Look After You (22 page)

“Your daughter is incredible, sir.” He winks at me, quickly returning his gaze back to my father’s grave. “She’s being well looked after, your granddaughter too.”

I smile, before turning back to my father’s headstone.
“I miss you so much, Daddy. I think about you every day. I just wish you were here to see Lily because she is just amazing. But thanks to you, I get to take her home soon, so thank you, Daddy.”

“Ava.” Ashton nods towards the front of the cemetery, where a classic black hearse with Fran’s casket is driving slowly through the entrance gates. My chin wobbles knowing that this is the final goodbye. I nod weakly, turning my attention back to my daddy’s grave.

“I have to go and say goodbye to Fran now. Please look after her for me. She’s been through enough, she needs her daddy.” I press a kiss against my fingertips and place them softly over his name.

“I love you.”

I stand up and take one final look. I turn to Ashton and entwine my fingers with his. We walk over to the open grave where people are beginning to gather around and watch as the hearse comes to a stop on the paved cemetery road. Six pallbearers approach the hearse and my heart skids to a stop when I notice one of them is my brother. My blood begins to boil with anger. How fucking dare he? After everything he put her through, after everything he did to her, he has the fucking nerve to carry her casket as if he’s the mourning brother.

“He has no fucking right,” I murmur angrily to myself, my entire body shaking with fury.

Ashton turns to me, his other hand coming to a rest on top of our entwined hands.
“Just ignore him. He isn’t worth your wrath, baby.”

I clench my eyes shut, my tears burning. I calm slightly as I feel Ashton’s arms hold me to his chest, whispering gently into my ear, “Breathe, just breathe.” I watch as they slide Fran’s closed casket from the hearse, using their strength to carry her casket over to the open grave. They walk on a slow march until they approach the open grave draped with green cloth. They carefully place the casket on top of a metal
frame situated around the open grave and step away. The pastor says a few final words and then to aggravate my anger further, the bastard decides to say a few words, as well. Isn’t it bad enough that I had to listen to his bullshit in the church, but here at the burial too?

“I just want to say a few words before we sa
y a final goodbye to my sister. I’m still trying to come to terms with her death. It came to a shock to us all. It just happened suddenly but instead of us remembering how she died, and the tragedy behind it, I want us all to remember her for the happy, incredibly kind human being she was. When you say goodbye, think of the last happy memory you have of her and then go on with your lives. That is what she would have wanted. She wouldn’t want you mourning for her, shedding tears for her. If she were here right now, she would be trying to make you laugh with some lame ass joke, anything to help take your mind off your sadness. She didn’t like seeing people upset. She used to say life was too short to be sad, and she was right. She proved just how short life can be. As much as we will miss her, we will always remember her happiness. Rest in peace, Francesca.”

Then her casket is slowly lowered to the ground.

I hate him. I hate how his words have Fran down to a tee, but the bastard should not be up there, in front of an audience feigning the big brother role. He is the reason why she is in that casket in the first place. I hate how he is tainting her funeral like this. She can’t even rest in peace without him pissing all over her grave. My falling tears are for the lies he’s feeding to everybody. I feel like screaming, telling everybody the reason why she’s dead, but I don’t. Instead, I turn my head into Ashton’s chest, not wanting to see the lie continue as Avery takes a clump of soil and scatters it over her lowered coffin.

Soon enough I step up to the open grave
. Sadly I scoop a handful of the earth in my hand and throw it over her casket. Ashton follows after me, speaking softly as he says, “Rest in peace, Fran.” And without taking another glance at my brother or the evil glances from my mother, I take hold of Ashton’s hand and walk away. As we walk towards the exit, I hear a female voice in the background hollering my name. Rolling my eyes, hoping it isn’t Rebecca trying to get to know her sister-in-law, I am surprised to find a sad girl in her early twenties, tall with platinum blonde hair, extremely attractive looking, approaching me.

She smiles warmly at me as she comes to a stop in front of me.
“Hi, Ava, you don’t know who I am, but I was Fran’s best friend. I’m Darcie,” she says.

I smile as I loosen my tight grip in Ashton’s hand that somehow tensed up after my name was called.
“Hey, Darcie. This is my friend, Ashton,” I say, introducing him to her. She politely smiles before looking back at me.

“I have som
ething for you. It’s a letter.” My eyes widen in shock, my grip tightening unconsciously on Ashton’s hand again.
“It’s from Fran. I found it with a bunch of her stuff she left at my place. She…stayed with me quite a lot. I didn’t know it was there until after she died. I guess she knew I would find it and would be able to give it to you. She didn’t trust a whole lot of people, especially towards the end.”

I am sure her eyes flicker in the direction of my brother with a look of terror, but I can’t be too sure. Does she know? I don’t have the chance to question it as the knowledge of having a letter has bombarded all of my thoughts.

“The letter, do you have it with you?” I ask.

She shakes her head.
“No, I didn’t want the chance of losing it. It’s back at my place. I can go and grab it for you before everybody heads back to the Jacobson’s, then give it you then.”

I furiously shake my head emphasi
zing my feelings on ever stepping foot in that house again. The very thought of being back in the house is almost too much to bear.
“I’m not…I can’t…I can’t go back there. We’re going straight back to the hotel.”

She nods with a small smile. “Of course, I understand. Where are you staying? I can drop it off for you in the morning if you like.”

“Really? Are you sure? I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she says with a kind smile.

Once we exchange details, my face drops when I see my mother approach. She is stomping over, with an ugly ass snarl across her face. “You have a fucking nerve turning up here, girl.” It’s obvious she is drunk just by how clumsily she spits out her words. I have no idea how she is keeping herself stood upright. Ten years later and she is still a raging alcoholic, go figure.

“I came to say goodbye to my sister. I was just leaving.” I pull on Ashton’s hand, turning to leave, but her evil words stop me in my tracks.

“You lost the right to call her your sister the moment you walked away. We thought somebody had abducted you but instead you were just a selfish bitch who ran away! I gave you everything, and that was how you repaid me!”

I flinch as she screams at the top of her lungs. The scene she is creating is attracting quite the audience as people start to crowd around us, most with the look of
intrigued amusement. I snatch my hand out from Ashton’s and take a step forward, anger flaring.
“I’m not doing this here. It is Francesca’s funeral. Have some respect,” I hiss calmly and quietly as possible, not wanting to attract even more attention.

I don’t know if she heard me or she is clearly choosing not to, but she continues on with her rant.
“You had everything money could buy. A car, phone, a maid to do your cooking and cleaning, you had a life most girls would dream of, and you walked away from it! And what for, a poor life with a middle class boy on your arm,” she snarls towards Ashton.

Okay, so we are doing this here. My nostrils flare with continuous anger. I take a step closer to her, so close I can even smell the alcohol on her breath.
“You gave me everything except for your love. I didn’t care about materialistic crap or expensive cars. Your version of love was throwing a credit card at each of your children, then fucking off to the Caribbean to find your next toy boy. You were so busy on your next adventure that you had no idea what was going on back home.” I take a moment to glare at my brother as he approaches my mother.
“I’m actually really surprised you had even noticed I was gone at all to be honest. So well done, you actually became the caring mother Teresa after I left. At least that benefited two of your children.” Then I give out a loud sinister laugh, feigning amusement. “Oh wait. No, you didn’t. If you had then you wouldn’t have just had to bury one of them today, bravo, Mother. Fucking bravo.”

I blink in shock, when her hand meets my face with a sharp slap. The power behind it has me stumbling backwards a little disorientated. Immediately Ashton is at my side, gripping her drunken hand in a tight fist, stopping her from slapping me again.
“If you so much as lay another drunken finger on her, I will not hesitate to hurt you. I don’t care if you’re her mother or a woman for that fact. You don’t fucking touch her. Do you understand me?” he says in a southern drawl, his eyes darkening with anger. He gently lets go of her arm and takes hold of my hand.
“Ava, lets go,” Ashton whispers in my ear, pulling me gently towards him.

“Come on Mom, she’s not worth it,” I hear my brother’s ugly voice as he struggles to steer her intoxicated body away.

We begin to walk away from the crowd, when my mother’s screeching screams echo through the cemetery. “Yes, walk away! That’s what you’re good at! It should be you in that casket! You! You’re good as dead to me anyway! You’re dead to me.”

I walk away with my head held up high, pretending that her words don’t cut like a knife or that each word doesn
’t feel like a bullet to the chest.

Chapter 17

After I’ve had a long and refreshing shower, I finally emerge from the bathroom with a white fluffy bathrobe wrapped around me, with my hair still damp hanging loosely down one shoulder. A little surprised to find that I am alone, I walk over to the table on the other side of the hotel room, noticing a scrap of paper.

Gone to get something for dinner

Be back soon

Ashton x

At the mention of dinner, the growl in my stomach swiftly reminds me that I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. I look around awkwardly not knowing what to do with myself, but given the private moment I decide to call Caleb. I grab hold of my cellphone from the bedside table to dial Caleb’s number when guilt kicks me severely in the chest when I notice I have a missed phone call from Sebastian. I close my eyes as the guilt weighs heavily, the kiss I shared with Ashton yesterday coming to the forefront of my mind. And how I have conveniently forgotten to tell him that my sister has died. It isn’t as if he could do anything about it even if I did tell him. He is a million miles away. So what’s the point in worrying him? He has enough to deal with, or that’s what I’m telling myself.

Pushing the guilt aside, I find Caleb’s name in my contact list and press call. It takes a while to connect but the sound of his voice on the other side when he
does answer is like home to me. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you doing?” I can hear the sadness in his voice.

“Shit,” I say with a sigh as I walk over to the bed on the right and perch myself on the edge.

“That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say I am glad it’s over. It’s been a long day.” I fall backwards on the bed,
looking up at the white ceiling.

“I bet you turned some heads while you were there.”

I can’t help the small sadistic chuckle that escapes. “Oh yeah. I was the pinnacle of entertainment to the entire city of Miami. Not only have I had to bury my sister today, I have had to endure the whispers from strangers, witness my brother’s deceiving and pretentious bullshit, and then to top it off I get bitch slapped by my mother.” I wince as I delicately palm my sore left cheek where she slapped me. “Who, by the way, wishes I was dead.”

“She slapped you? And what do you mean she wishes you were dead? Jesus, Ava,” he responds, shocked.

“I mean that she wishes it was me who died, instead of Fran, but for a drunk she has a remarkable aim,” I say as if it’s a good thing I got slapped by the woman who gave me life. “Oh and that’s not everything. My brother has a wife, and they have a baby on the way.”

“No!” he practically screeches down my ear.

“Yes!”

“Fuck me,” he breathes out, shocked to silence. Once the sile
nce has subsided, he continues. “Do you think she had a good send off? Without all of the bitch slaps and bullshit.”

“Yeah, I think she did,” I say o
n a nod. “She looked beautiful.”

“I’m glad, after everything she must have gone through, it’s nice to know she doesn’t have to suffer anymore.”

I inwardly sigh with frustration when I feel the tears begin to fill up again and desperately not wanting to cry for the millionth time today, I slam my eyes shut, trapping the moisture behind my eyelids. “Anyway, enough of the funeral. How’s my baby?”

“She’s doing amazing. She’s missing her mom though.”

This causes me to cry out, my attempts at forcing the tears at bay failing drastically. “I miss her too, so much,” I say as I let the tears fall. “God, I wish I was there. I hate Miami.”

“Don’t cry, you’ll be back here tomorrow.”

“I know, I know,” I say, wiping away at my tears. “It’s just that it’s been one of the worst days of my life, and I just want to be able to hold Lily in my arms and forget about everything else.”

“I know,” he says, his voice full of sympathy. I hear the door open and c
lose, and I sit up from my lying position, to see Ashton walking through, still in his funeral attire without the jacket and tie, but with his collar loose and his shirt tucked out from his slacks, carrying a large pizza box in his right hand and a clear plastic bag, with what looks like beverages, in his left hand. I quickly wipe at my remaining tears.

“Can I call you back? Ashton’s back with dinner.” Once I have ended the call, I stand and follow Ashton to the table at the far end of the room.

“Caleb?” he questions as he kicks his shoes off.

I nod, looking down at the beverages and pizza he just laid out on the table.
“Why didn’t you just order room service?” I ask, baffled to why he would need to go searching for food when we can do it with a touch of a button via a telephone.

“I wanted to give you some space while you showered. I know today has been hard for you.” He walks over to the cabinet in the corner of the room where the mini fridge sits and takes hold of a wine glass, then comes back over. He unscrews a bottle of
rosé
wine and pours a generous amount into the wine glass. To my surprise he hands it to me. I shake my head immediately.

“I can’t drink that, I’m still breast-”

“Breastfeeding,” he cuts me off. “I know, but after the day you’ve had, I know you could do with a drink. One drink won’t hurt.”

I look at the glass of wine he has held out in front of me and then back at him with a look of uncertainty.
“Are you sure?”

“I am positive. One drink won’t affect the milk. I
promise. Now drink up. Doctor’s orders.” I smile, accepting the glass of wine, and bring the glass to my lips, taking my first sip of alcohol in eight months.

“Good?” he questions, as I pull out a chair.

“So good,” I praise dreamily, while taking a seat, curling my feet under my bottom in a half kneeling position, taking another satisfying sip. Ashton sits in the seat facing me, taking a bottle of beer from a six pack, twisting open the bottle top and flicking the crown cap against the wooden table, causing the sound of it to rattle against the table. Once he has taken a well-deserved chug of his beer, he settles the bottle onto a coaster, and then places a paper plate in front of me.

“How you holding up?” he asks, as he opens up the pizza box, taking a slice of pepperoni pizza out and placing it on my paper plate, before placing another piece on his own plate.

I swap my wine glass for my slice of pizza, taking a small bite against the corner edge, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” I gulp. “I’m just glad it’s over, and we can go home tomorrow. Miami just holds too many bad memories for me.” I shake my head from the horrific images, forcing them to the very back of my mind. I take another bite, concentrating on the beautiful features of the man sat in front of me, only to burst out into laughter as he literally wolfs his slice of pizza down in one.

“What?” he says, with a mouthful of pizza.

“You’re a pig, you know that, right?” I say, managing to swallow my pizza, once my laughing has died down.

“What can I say, I’m a guy, and if it keeps that smile on your pretty face, I will continue eating like a pig. Sexy right?” he says, flashing his eyebrows up and down, shoveling another gigantic piece into his mouth, causing me to laugh for a second time.

Once we finish our food, I shuffle my exhausted body over to the
twin beds and collapse into the middle of one with my head leaning against the headrest, my legs crossed at the ankles as I cradle the rest of my rosé wine. I watch as Ashton comes over to the bed after cleaning up after dinner, a fresh bottle of beer in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through it intently. His brow creases with concentration as he begins typing out a message.

“
Everything okay?” I ask, taking a small sip of my half empty glass of wine.

He tips his head up to me, a sm
all smile shifting on his lips. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“
Oh, you just looked a little confused.”

He plops himself on the edge of the bed chuckling and turns
towards me, with one knee bent. “Oh, it’s my mom.” He rolls his eyes as he holds the phone up. “She asks the most bizarre questions. She thinks that because I’m a doctor I am the go to person for knowledge.”

He hands me the phone and I read the text out loud.
 “‘Question. If you immerse yourself at a bottom of a swimming pool with scuba gear on, do you think you could survive a tornado?’” I burst into laughter in utter confusion.

Ashton laughs with me.
“I honestly don’t know what goes through her head some days.” I read his response to his mom, which makes me laugh further.

Ashton:
Mom, I’m a neonatologist, not a rocket scientist.

But no I don’
t think they could survive.

Throughout my laughing, I accidentally swipe my thumb against the front of the screen, and I come across a message that clearly isn’t meant for me to read. My heart suddenly stops.

She’s incredible.

I’
m falling for her. Hard.

I don’t know what I’
m supposed to do.

She’
s...

I quickly swipe back to the bottom of the messages to his mom without reading the rest, handing him back the phone as if it’s hot coal. My mind goes into overdrive, wondering if he’s talking about me. Is he falling for me? I take a large sip of wine from my glass as the information begins to sink in. Ashton’s falling in love with me? Unless, is it another girl? But he hasn’t mentioned seeing anybody. Oh, God what if he is seeing somebody? I don’t think I could cope seeing him with somebody else, but falling in love with somebody else, the very thought makes me sick to the stomach. I drain the rest of my drink, in one gulp as I begin to picture him with some gorgeous blonde, amazing figure, and a body, which hasn’t been inflicted with the impact of childbirth…

A persistent clicking sound awakens me from my thoughts, and I see Ashton hovering over me, clicking his fingers in front of my face, trying to hold my attention.
“Hey, where’d you go?”

I shake my head of my thought
s, giving him a perplexed look. “Um, sorry, it’s just been a weird day,” I say sullenly, gazing down at my empty glass, wishing I could have it filled back up again. He takes the glass from me and places it on the bedside table, along with his bottle of beer before sitting back in the middle of the bed, lifting my bare feet up, and placing them in his lap, his firm hands holding my left foot into position.

“That it has. You
’re not ticklish are you?” he says, pointing his head into the direction of my feet. I just shake my head with a smile, sinking further into the mattress as his thumbs begin to draw small circles along the ball of my foot with medium pressure. After a while of concentrating exclusively on the ball of my left foot, I can’t help the small whimper that escapes me as his glorious thumbs begin to knead against the arch of my foot, while his fingertips delicately massage in a slow motion on the top of my foot, keeping in rhythm with his thumbs. My entire body tingles with delight.

“
That feels good,” I mumble with appreciation as I feel my body continue to sink into the mattress. I almost feel as if I am floating on air.

I hear a hearty chuckle as he
continues his work on my foot. “Well lucky for you, back in college we did a seminar in reflexology, so I’m pretty good with my fingers.”

“
Hmm,” I moan in delight, wriggling with satisfaction. A comfortable silence covers us as he continues to massage my foot with precise movement. With each tingle that evaporates through my body, my muscles continue to loosen up, to the extent I begin to feel delirious with comfort. I begin to feel drowsy, but instead of allowing the sleep to overtake me completely, I allow my previous thoughts to consume me, questioning who Ashton might be in love with. I don’t know if it’s the one glass of wine that I’ve just gulped down or how ridiculously relaxed I feel, but I just blurt out the question that was supposed to stay in the confinements of my own head. “Are you seeing somebody?” I inwardly groan as his fingers suddenly stop their movement. He is quiet for a moment, and I automatically take his quiet response as a silent yes. I keep my eyes clenched shut because I don’t think my stomach can handle looking at him if he says yes. To my surprise, I read the silent yes incorrect.

“
Um, no. Why do you ask?” I hear confusion in his voice, and I just want to kick myself for asking the question. Now he expects me to answer. As I mentally berate myself for being such an idiot, he places my foot onto his lap, exchanging it for my right foot. Expecting him to continue with his heavenly massage, it is understandable that I feel a little agitated when he just keeps my foot held still within his hands.

Secretly sighing to myself, I realize I need to answer.
“No reason, just curious,” I mumble, coming up with the first thing that popped into my head, avoiding opening my eyes at all costs.

“
Ava?” he questions, obviously not buying my bullshit excuse.

I sit up on my
elbows, opening one eye to him. “What?” I ask a little pissier than is needed. He looks as if he wants to say something, but shakes his head as if the very thought is too ludicrous to say out loud. “No, I’m not seeing anybody else.” Immediately flushing crimson, he quickly realizes his own mistake. “I mean, no I’m not seeing anybody,” he corrects. His mistake makes me smile though.