Love Thy Neighbor (33 page)

I don’t ask her what she wants to give me so
she takes this as permission to continue. She says, “When Robert…
When
he
died, I didn’t realize just how much he had his life
insurance payment set to. After his death was ruled self-defense, I
got that inheritance and put it in a bank account. You were still
underage, Asher, so I had them put it under your name. It’s been
sitting there for almost twenty years and I don’t want the burden
anymore. I can’t touch the money anymore. You’re an adult now, and
I can’t access it, so you need to make a decision about what you
want to do with it, baby.”

I scowl down at the table.

I can’t believe this shit.

I sneer, “You’re seriously fucking throwing
this on me now? Seriously, Ma? I don’t fucking believe this
shit.”

She swallows visibly before saying a
strained, “Think of what this money could do for you. This money
was always going to be yours whether you wanted it or not. If you
don’t want it, give it away. Think of what a domestic violence
charity could do with this money, baby. There are people out there
who need help… just like we needed and never got.”

I can hate on her for the rest of my life
and blame her for what happened, but I know how my father was. If
he said he’d kill me, I wouldn’t put it past him.

She puts the account details in front of me
with shaking hands and I freeze. I stare and stare and stare at the
figure before chuckling. My chuckles turn into full-blown laughter
and I see mom crack a smile. I look up at her and ask, “This shit
for real, Ma?”

A seven figure number sits in front of me
and all I can do is laugh. I had nothing growing up. You’d think
I’d be grateful for this now, but I’m not. I hate this money more
than I hate my father. It’s as if I’m being compensated for the
years of torture I endured.

No money can fix me.

I tell my mom, “I’m seven shades of fucked
up and
this
is what I get? I’m a simple guy, Mom. I don’t
even own a TV. I live within my means. I don’t need this.”

Her eyes gleam and she asks, “What about
your pretty redhead? Could she use some of this?”

My head snaps up and she smiles sadly. “Met
your lady today. She ripped me to shreds. Tore into me. Said I had
no right to see you and that I was to never come back there.” Mom
stares at me and says finally, “Ever.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my
face.

Nat tearing my mom a new asshole…I’d pay to
see that shit. I can only imagine what she said.

She chuckles and says quietly, “She really
loves you, Ash. I’m so happy that you found someone who’d go
head-to-head with anyone to keep you safe and protected. Because
she would. She’s a little ball of fire, that one. I like her.”

My little ball of fire.

She really is.

Maybe mom’s right. Maybe this money could
help Nat somehow. I might hold onto it a while longer before I make
any final decisions.

I stand, taking the ring case and placing it
in my pocket. I fold up the account information and pocket that,
too. Unsure where to go from here, I say, “I gotta get back home. I
didn’t leave under the best circumstances.”

Mom takes two steps closer to me and takes
my hand in hers. She says confidently, “She’ll forgive you, baby.
She loves you. Said that she was your family now. So go home to
your…”

Her eyes widen in question. I answer, “Nat.
My Nat.”

Smiling, she whispers, “You get home to your
Nat and make it better.”

She looks up at me uncertainly before
wrapping her arms around my waist and squeezing me tight. I’m not
sure I want to hug her but put an arm around her shoulders anyways.
She says into my chest, “Flowers help.”

Smirking, I let go of her. This woman is not
the person I remember hating. This woman is the mom I chose to
forget. She’s back to the way she always should’ve been and I’m
happy for her. My face turns somber, “Nice seeing you, Mom.”

Letting go of me, her face turns bleak. “You
can come here anytime. Anytime you like. I’d be happy to see you
more often. I don’t suppose I’ll be invited to the wedding?”

Answering her honestly, I say, “No. You
wouldn’t be.”

I watch her heart shatter. Her eyes fill
with tears as she responds, her voice trembling, “That’s fair
enough.”

I don’t say goodbye, just turn and walk down
the hall toward the front door. I hear my aunt and uncle talk on
the porch. As soon as I step outside, I ask Aunt Faith, “Where can
I buy some kickass flowers?”

***

Holy shit.

I am nervous as fuck right now. Standing in
front of Nat’s door holding a bunch of flowers that she’s probably
going to throw away, five minutes have passed and I still haven’t
got the balls to knock.

Be a man. Be the type of man she needs. Be
fearless.

Before I can stop myself, I knock. Hard.

A little too hard.

The door swings open and there’s my girl. My
pretty girl. She looks tired but when she sees me, her eyes
brighten. She lifts her shaking hands to her mouth and whispers,
“You’re here. You’re okay.”

Relief settles my churning gut.

Nodding, I hold out the flowers to her. She
spies the extravagant bunch and her face turns angry.

Oh fuck.

She snatches the flowers out of my hand and
hits me with them. Using all the force she can muster, she brings
them down on my head over and over again, she says through gritted
teeth, “You dipshit. I fucking hate you. Fuck you and your
flowers!”

And I let her. I fucking deserve it.

You are a dipshit.

When she’s done she throws the naked stalks
to the ground by my feet. I open my eyes to see her whole body
shake with rage. Her lip quivers, her eyes cold, she sneers, “Glad
you’re okay, fuckwad. Now get away from me,” then she slams the
door in my face.

Picking bits of flower out of my hair, my
shoulders slump and I shake my head.

That did not go as well as I’d hoped.

Time for Plan B.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Shenanigans

I lay in bed fuming. And it’s all because of
the ass next door.

I’m so angry that I feel like my head could
explode at any second and anger demons will fill my room making
little angry demon babies that will sort of be like Gremlins, and
I’ll have to follow the same rules.

Do not expose the angry demon babies to
light.

Do not get the angry demon babies wet.

And most importantly, do not feed the angry
demon babies after midnight, no matter how much they beg.

If my angry demon babies look anything like
Gizmo, I’m fucked. There’s no way I’d ever be able to say no to
that sweet little face.

What the hell are you talking about?

Ugh. I have no idea.

I’m so tired, but I’m having trouble
sleeping knowing that asshat is next door, so I’ve become
delirious.

I have so many words of abuse I want to yell
at him. Is that something I can do? Just go over there and abuse
him at random intervals during the night then come back to bed?

It’s better than crying, that’s for
sure.

Can you believe him? Coming over here with
flowers after the whole
sorry I dumped you and tried to choke
you to prove a point then went missing for four days but I’m back
now
thing.

What an ass!

I regret ruining the flowers. They actually
looked really nice. It was an unusual bunch though. I should’ve
taken them and given them to someone who could’ve used a boost of
happiness in their day.

My heart races in anxiety and tears blur my
eyes.

He’s okay. You’ve seen him. He’s fine.

Yeah, but there was a huge chance that he
wasn’t okay. That he could’ve become a statistic.

I’m so fucking pissed at him! The truth is I
was so scared, and once I saw him and relief settled through me, I
realized just how fucking idiotic he’d been. No calls, no messages,
nothing. I know I told him I hate him, but I don’t. I’m angry at
myself for still loving him. I was always told you can’t help who
you love, and now is one of those times I really wish you could.
Maybe if I tell myself I hate him enough, it’ll actually
happen.

Good plan.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I concede,
muttering, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I suck.”

My eyes become heavy and I rest my head on
the pillow.

My final thought before I doze off is,
I
hope he’s okay
.

***

My eyes flutter open and I smile.

This is a good dream.

I stretch my body in bed and my hand comes
into contact with something above the covers. Eyes widening in
shock, I feel around on my bed and come into contact with more cool
things. Sitting up, I gasp in stunned disbelief and cover my mouth
with both hands.

No way.

No fucking way.

My bed is covered in flowers. When I say
covered, I mean
covered
. Not a single inch of my quilt
shows. White tulips and a shitload of lilac-colored irises blanket
my bed. The same flowers in the bunch I used to mess up Ash
with.

Not moving at all, my eyes do a sweep of my
bed and a single bark of laughter breaks out of me.

Okay. So this is actually a nice way to wake
up.

Shaking my head in doubt, I flip my covers
over, step onto the floor only to come into contact with more
flowers. I look down and the entire floor is covered with
flowers.

Is this for real?

Chuckling to myself, I’ll admit it. My
interest is piqued. And I’d bet good money that Ash knew my
curiosity would get the better of me.

Just how many flowers did the ass buy?

I step onto my carpet of flowers and follow
it down that hall, laughing all the way. When I get to my lounge
room and kitchen, I gasp and step back in shock. I lift a shaking
hand to my heaving chest and try not to cry.

Flowers are everywhere! My house has been
turned into a flora wonderland.

White, red, orange, pink and yellow tulips
cloak the kitchen. Pink, purple and white irises make a home in my
lounge room. The floor is covered with every type of flower
imaginable. Roses of peach, pink and red. Gerberas of white, orange
and yellow. Carnations of blushing pink, yellow and white. Daisies,
sunflowers, orchids, hyacinth, baby’s breath, princess lilies,
violets and frangipanis.

And that’s only the ones I can name.

They’re everywhere, and I’m overwhelmed by
the sight and smell.

Tears blur my vision as I step into the
kitchen. A single white tulip sits in a long stemmed vase. There’s
a note attached. I pluck it off and read.

White tulips symbolize forgiveness. Forgive
me, pretty girl.

My emotions are chaotic right now. I don’t
know what to do. I place the note down and open the pantry to get
my box of rice puffs. I take a bowl, a spoon and the milk and set
it all down on the counter.

I open the box of cereal and begin to
pour…and I burst into laughter.

White tulips fill my bowl.

Clever, ass. Very clever.

Who knew Ash was good at shenanigans?

I’m not blind. I see the effort he went to.
He must’ve been here all night, quiet as a mouse to do this. I
smile at the thought of him running around in socks, arranging
flowers. He must be exhausted.

Fuck him.

The memory of the heartbreak he caused me
comes flooding back.

Yeah. Fuck him.

I tip out my bowl of tulips onto the counter
to join their flower friends and move to the sofa. A single stem of
lilac iris sits in an identical vase to the one the white tulip was
in. There’s a note attached to this one too. I pull it off and
read.

Lilac Irises symbolize first love. Still
love me, baby?

I do. I really do. But I’m fucking pissed as
hell too.

The shithead. He deserves the silent
treatment for at least a month. Maybe two. Depending on how
generous I feel. I drop the note on the table and rest my head back
on the sofa when I hear a knock at the front door.

My stomach twists.

What if it’s him?

Creeping over to the door, I stand to the
side of it hiding out like the coward I am and ask, “Who is
it?”

A deep male voice says, “Delivery,
ma’am.”

Skeptical, my eyes narrow and I enquire,
“From where?”

The man immediately returns, “I don’t know,
ma’am. I’m just a courier. You want it, or you want me to have it
returned to sender?”

My parents should’ve called me Cat because
I’m seriously itching to know who this parcel is from. Curiosity is
a shitty thing sometimes.

I crack the door open an inch and peek at
the older gentleman. I look down to the brown paper wrapped package
in his hand and nod towards the electronic signing device. He hands
it through the small crack and I sign. We exchange items and I shut
the door.

The item is the size of a notebook and no
fatter than one. I’m so nervous about what it could be, I leave it
and decide to get ready for work.

After showering, I apply some light make up.
I dress in white high-waisted linen pants, a long sleeved white
shirt which I unbutton to reveal a good amount of my decent bosom,
and a thick black belt which comes just under my boobs. Not knowing
what to do with my hair, I tie it in a high ponytail.

When someone knocks at the front door a
second time, I’m so immersed in getting ready for work that I don’t
even check who it is before I fling it open.

And there he is.

Looking hotter than hell in a pair of black
slacks, a white fitted shirt which he’s rolled up the elbows,
making his arms look sinfully delicious, his regular belt complete
with gleaming silver belt buckle and polished black dress shoes.
I’m stunned into silence.