They'd be astounded by my aggressively structured spice cabinet and find my spider plants sexy as fuck. They'd respect my self-sufficiency and never, ever presume to trample it. I'd know how to be myself then, with my grass-green plates and my windowsill garden and my hard-won independence. I wouldn't be the grown woman who ran away anymore. I'd be the woman with the life she'd built for herself, one precisely labeled cupboard at a time.
There was something critical about starting all the way over and allowing myself to feel everything I did while arguing—and cuddling—with Ash didn't fit in that process. He couldn't and he wouldn't, if this morning's tantrum was to be trusted. He wanted me as his assistant and, as it turned out, we'd also share his apartment until I found alternative arrangements.
I'd start over with my plants and crockery and closets then.
Mrs. Santillian ("call me Diana") shifted on the tufted leather sofa to face me. "So," she started, a whole load of meaning in that tiny word, "Zelda. Tell me everything."
From the tailor's pedestal, Ash glared. "Leave her alone, Mom."
"You have the very important task of standing still, Ash," she replied, wagging a maternal finger in his direction. "Please don't stop to interfere with our girl talk."
"This is pointless," he continued. "I have plenty of suits. Why do I need a new one?"
"Because I only get married once," Magnolia answered.
He glanced down at the dark blue fabric. "I have navy suits."
"I'm sure you do," she replied. "But you won't match the other guys and I don't want my photos to be odd because you can't deal for half an hour."
"This is ridiculous," he muttered.
"So is your attitude," she sang.
"Zelda," Mrs. Santillian drawled, tucking my hair over my ear, "tell me all about you, sweetheart. Your hair is lovely. So thick!" She studied the stripe of blue and I shrank, both emotionally and physically as I anticipated her disapproval. I'd learned to shrug off judgment ages ago but it was more difficult when it came from people who mattered and I knew this woman mattered. "Who is doing your color? There's a gal at my stylist's shop who is a whiz with all the funky colors you kids are doing these days. I'm sure you'd love her, if you're ever looking for someone new."
"Oh, thank you," I said. "I had this done in Denver so—"
"Denver? Ash, didn't you just return from Denver?" Mrs. Santillian asked, whipping her head toward him.
He met my gaze in the mirror, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Last night."
Mrs. Santillian stared at me while I continued watching that muscle. "Is that where you met? In Denver?" she asked.
To the tailor's frustration, Ash jerked his shoulder up. "Essentially, yes."
"Then," Mrs. Santillian continued, "this is new? Recent, I mean."
"Amusing is what it is," Magnolia murmured, tapping her fingertips against her lips.
The corner of Ash's mouth tugged up into a hint of a smile. My belly flopped and my toes tingled and I wanted to step onto the pedestal and claim my space under his chin and in his arms because I fit there. The only appropriate way to respond was, "I'm going to be helping Ash in the office. That's all."
"Oh, sure," Magnolia replied, bobbing her head and rolling her eyes. "'In the office.' That's an experiment with an obvious outcome but good luck anyway. I'm rooting for you both."
Mrs. Santillian patted my hand. "No explanations required, Zelda. I'm just thrilled to meet you."
"I'm just thrilled she's not Millie. I didn't want that wedge of iceberg lettuce at my wedding," Magnolia added.
"Magnolia, I swear to god, if you start with that again," Ash warned.
"Oh, stop it, Ash," Mrs. Santillian chided. "We're not bickering this morning. Your sister's new eyelashes are too fragile for dramatic squabbling."
"Don't explain that to me," Ash said. "Whatever it is, don't tell me."
Ignoring him, Mrs. Santillian turned back toward me. "You're coming to our family dinner tomorrow," she announced.
Ash gasped. "Mom."
"Oh yes, you're definitely coming to dinner," Magnolia said, gesturing toward me with her phone. "I'm calling Linden right now. I'll bet you my life savings he's forgotten he's supposed to be there."
Again, I met Ash's gaze in the mirror. His brows pitched up as if he was asking whether I wanted him to jump in front of this speeding train for me.
I stared at him for a moment but then I glanced away because—because I didn't know what I wanted anymore.
I gazed down the street, watching the car carrying Ash's