Ashton Scott

Her brow arches. “That’s the best apology you’ve got? We seriously need to work on that if you’ve any hope of fixing things with Lorelei. I can assure you that she’ll be looking for more of an apology than two simple words.”

“You’re assuming I have things to apologise for.”

“I may not know what you two argued over or why you haven’t seen her for three days but I’d hedge my bets that you do have things to apologise for. That’s not saying she doesn’t also, but Ashton, I know your ways, and I know you can be an arrogant ass, so I’m telling you that you need to think long and hard about whatever went down and figure out what you need to say sorry for. And then form a better apology than the one you just gave me.”

I’m in a mood. Yes. I’m frustrated by Lorelei’s silence and growing more restless and tense by the day. Fighting my desire to go to her is proving harder by the minute. But Jessica is wrong; I don’t have anything to apologise for. Lorelei and I are simply figuring out how to navigate our relationship. If she would stop running away whenever we have a disagreement, we could better work through our issues.

Getting into a discussion with Jessica about my relationship is the last thing on my agenda today, so I shift the conversation back to my original question. “When is the meeting with Stan and Lorelei?”

Sh

e eyes me with the look she reserves for moments when she’s especially annoyed at me. I wait for another tongue-lashing but it doesn’t come. Instead, she says, “Fine, ignore me. But you’ll see I’m right. Your meeting is next Monday, and oh to be a fly on that wall. Unless of course you’ve come to your senses by then and apologised to Lorelei.” As she turns to leave my office, she adds, “I’ll be at my desk. If you need me, check your asshole status first, because I don’t intend to answer you unless you’re nice to me.”

I ignore her snark but call out, “What did you mean by Lorelei informing you tomorrow will be Asshole Friday?” I detest using that term, but my need to know what Lorelei said is greater than my aversion to Jessica’s phrasing.

She faces me again. “I asked her whether it’s likely you two will have sorted your differences by tomorrow. She said no.” With that, she leaves me alone with my warring thoughts.

I swivel my chair and look out the window of my office. Usually, the view of the city helps me focus. Today, it offers me nothing.

Lorelei made it clear she wants time to think. I’ve given her three days. Two days longer than I would have given anyone else. I don’t make it a habit of leaving problems up in the air, and I sure as hell don’t make it a habit to be dictated to as to when I can call or see someone to discuss an issue. Lorelei is different. I’m in love with her, and for the first time in my life, I’m unsure of the best way forward. She’s unpredictable, which I usually appreciate, but in this instance, I’d prefer to know how she’ll react if I go against her wishes and refuse to give her space.

My phone rings, cutting into my thoughts.

I put it to my ear. “Aly, what’s up?”

“I’m checking in to see if you’ve fixed things with Lorelei yet?”

“I would have if she’d allow me near her.” Frustrated, my words come out harsher than intended. The fact my sister and my assistant feel it necessary to involve themselves in this situation is too much.

“You still haven’t gone to see her? Or call her?”

“She told me to give her space. I’m giving her space.”

“Holy hell, this is a new Ashton Scott. I think I’m impressed you listened to her.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Aly. And don’t be impressed. I’m about to stop listening to her.”

“Oh shit. I think I should come over and make sure you don’t screw this up. There’s a fine line when a woman tells you to give her space, and I’m fairly sure you don’t have any clue what it is. Promise me you won’t do anything until I get there.”

“I’m hanging up now. Unless there was a reason you called me?”

“This is the reason I called you. I want to ensure you don’t piss Lorelei off any more than you already have.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling my relationships on my own. I’ll call you tonight so we can discuss next week’s soccer practice and whether you still need me.”

I end the call and immediately dial Lorelei’s number.

She answers almost straight away. “Ashton.” My name is a soft murmur, not giving me any hint as to her mood.

I get straight to the point. “Where are you?”

Her hesitation is a beat longer than I like. “Why?”

“Lorelei”—it’s almost a growl, and definitely a demand—“I asked you a question. Where are you? I’m coming to see you, and we are going to finish the conversation we were in the middle of on Sunday.”

She sighs. “I’m at my office, but I’m not ready to talk. I need some more time to get my thoughts together.”

I grab my car keys. “No. I’m not willing to wait another minute to see you. I’ve already waited too long.”