Page 32 of Desiring an Angel

I sighed as it once more flashed my way as we settled into our chairs at the dining room table. Set for two since Nora had told me she would be working late every night that week—the only reason I’d invited Ashton to the house. A lone candle flickered between us, as well as a slender vase and the rose Ashton had given me.

The meaning behind the lavender color, the fact he’d only brought me one, spoke volumes and made my romantic heart giddy. Our initial thoughts toward each another aligned after a single phone conversation, and I couldn’t wait to learn more about Ashton and his partner.

“How are Rhett and his mother doing?” I asked rather than spewing out nonsense about my nerves and crazy attraction I felt for him.

He stared a moment as though surprised by my question.

Discussing an imminent death wasn’t exactly pleasant dinner conversation, but I cared about the other half of the partnership I hoped to become a part of. Even if I hadn’t spoken to or met Rhett, he was Ashton’s other half and just as important as the man staring at me.

“I have an abundance of empathy,” I explained with a rushed voice when he didn’t respond, shifting on my chair over thoughts that I’d disappointed him in some way. “And it’s not always a good thing.”

“It’s a lovely character trait,” he murmured, a soft smile curving his lips back up. No dimple popped, but his assurance settled my antsy backside. “And there’s been no change, nor will there be until his father acknowledges she’s already gone.”

“How is Rhett holding up? I can imagine he probably wishes you were there with him. If I faced that sort of grief, I would want the person I love by my side.”

Ashton served himself some of the roast from the platter before handing it to me. “Rhett is…” He pursed his lips and stared at the candle’s flame while I put a little food on my plate. “Well, I want you to understand him so he doesn’t scare you away when you meet him. He grew up in a very emotionally repressed household. Neither parent gave him very much of their time, and he learned from an early age that acting out didn’t award him the positive attention he craved.”

My heart squeezed in my chest. I knew all about that.

“He was taught to keep his emotions in check, that allowing his feelings free reign was a sign of weakness.”

“Oh, no,” I whispered, my heart breaking for the little boy he’d been.

“He doesn’t share much and always states that he’s fine even when he’s not. We’ve been together long enough that I can oftentimes read him, and even though right now I know he would appreciate having me with him during what must be a difficult time, he doesn’t want me there because hospitals trigger me.”

“I can imagine,” I said, my soul aching for both of them.

“He’s very careful in everything he does. A true type A personality.”

Like Nora—who clashed with my opposite nature.

Unease slithered into my mind like a garter snake, unwanted and scary. Rhett would find me annoying, I had no doubt.

“Tell me more about him?” I forced myself to take a bite of my dinner, but it coated my tongue like dust. Focusing on Ashton’s stories about how he’d been drawn to the quiet, gangly boy with the mop of dark hair who never got upset or appeared happy in middle school proved almost impossible.

Perhaps meeting with Ashton first hadn’t been such a good idea. It would be easy peasy to fall for a man like him, but he was only half of a whole.

I’d attempted to jump plenty of hurdles in my life, but Rhett Stirling intimidated the hell out of me—and I’d never even shared a single word with him.

The front door opened and closed, cutting Ashton off mid-sentence and pulling his gaze toward the hallway.

My stomach twisted and heart seized.

Oh no…no, no!

“It’s my sister,” I barely managed a whisper, my stomach tying up in knots.

Her footsteps brought her closer, and seconds later, she halted abruptly in the dining room’s entryway. She took in the table and the smiling man pushing back his chair to stand before flicking her gaze at me.

“You’re obviously Nora,” Ashton said to my mirror image, moving forward and offering his hand like the true gentleman. “I’m Ashton Blackwood. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She eyed his outstretched hand but ignored it to once more glare at me. “Skylar, can I speak with you in the kitchen?” she snipped. “Alone?”

I slammed my eyelids shut and breathed deeply, wishing I could sink into the floor and disappear.

Her footsteps—heavier than before—took her toward the back of the house.

“Should I go,” Ashton asked quietly, and I jerked my eyelids back open. He still stood, his gaze full of concern.

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