Page 49 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince
“Aww, you’re all right in my book, Dean,” Stella said sweetly. Although her next words belied the former tone and words she’d just spoken. “You take good care of my sister tonight, or you’ll regret it. Do we understand each other?”
“Absolutely.” I bowed slightly hoping she understood I was serious. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”
Her stare seemed to reach into and assess my soul. I stood there patiently, waiting for some sign that she was done. When I apparently passed muster, she gave me an almost imperceptible nod of acceptance.
Ashlyn waved to her sister and pushed me forward as though to get away in a hurry. “I’m sorry about Stella. Since my dad died, she likes to think she can step into that role as my protector. She forgets she’s only a little older than me.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” With each new piece of information that Ashlyn shared, I learned her life hadn’t been easy.
“Thank you. It’s been twenty years, but I still miss him terribly. My dad remarried only a few weeks before he died. My stepmother has two daughters, so I wasn’t completely alone.”
“Are you as close with your stepmother and other sister as well?”
Ashlyn paused for a second, her face screwed up in thought as though not quite sure how to answer my question. It made me curious about her home life. While my parents weren’t perfect, they tried their best to give me a good childhood, and I couldn't imagine my life without them in it. “Not exactly. I don’t often see eye to eye with them.”
“It must have been nice to grow up with sisters though. I’ve always wanted a sibling.”
“Yeah, I loved having Stella. In many ways, she was my saving grace.”
When she didn’t say more, I decided not to push it. This was our first date after all.
I opened the door to my McLaren Spider. I owned several cars, but this one was my favorite. It was unique with its carbon fiber structure and bright turquoise color. It was sleek, powerful, and built to impress.
She slid inside. “This car is incredible,” she said, petting the black leather interior. While I loved her enthusiasm for my car, I couldn't help but feel jealous that her delicate hands were caressing the leather and not me.
I shut her door and moved to my side of the car. After pulling out onto the main road, she remained silent. Maybe driving my McLaren was too much. It definitely made a statement and screamed wealth. That wasn’t exactly the lifestyle she was used to.
I hoped this date wasn’t about to crash and burn.
I figured I’d start with something easy to get her talking. “How did you learn to sew?”
“Burda. My mom hired her when she opened the Enchanted Bridal Boutique. Burda stuck around and practically raised me. When Elaine—that’s my stepmother—would bring my sisters and me to work, Burda would take me to the back room and teach me to sew. While we sewed, she told me stories about my mom and dad.”
I wanted to ask what had happened to her mom but didn’t. Once I’d asked her to dinner, I’d done an online search about Ashlyn. The first piece that came up was an article about the death of her father. He’d been in a car accident when she was seven years old, and the other was an older piece about her mom opening up her bridal shop ten years before that.
I was vaguely familiar with the shop, but it was so much smaller than ours and not considered our competition. I hadn’t paid it any mind.
She glanced at me as though seeing my hesitation. “It’s okay to ask what happened to them. My mom died from breast cancer the year after I was born, and my dad was in a car accident.”
“I didn’t want to be insensitive.”
“Most people are afraid to bring up loved ones that are gone. It makes me sad sometimes, but talking about them helps to keep their memories alive for me too.”
“My mom says the same thing about the pregnancies she lost before they had me. People are afraid to talk about them with her. She doesn’t want to forget. She wants to honor them.”
“She’s an incredibly strong person. I can only imagine how devastating that must have been for her.” Ashlyn leaned over and laid her hand on top of mine. “I guess that means you have a few extra angels watching over you all.”
“That's what she says too. And especially me. She used to say they must stick to me like glue with all the scrapes I’ve gotten out of over the years.”
“So you were one of those kids that drove your mother crazy.” She laughed.
“Maybe a little more than most.” I winked at her. “What about you? Did you drive your stepmother crazy with the shenanigans of three little girls?”
“Oh, no. I was a total rule follower.”
“I don’t believe it. Under that good girl exterior beats the heart of a rebel.”
She giggled. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”
