Cherished (Steel Brothers Saga #17) - Helen Hardt Page 0,61
She pulls a mask over her face and rushes through the double doors out of the waiting area.
Ashley hands me the coffee. “What’s going on?”
“Triple bypass surgery,” I say in a monotone.
Her eyes widen. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I sit back down and place the coffee on the table in front of me.
Ashley sits next to me. “How long will he be in surgery?”
“I don’t know.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask.” I should have asked. If my true father were in there, I’d have researched this on my phone and asked all the right questions.
Ashley fiddles with her own phone. “Looks like between three and six hours.”
I sigh. “There goes this whole day. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
“Are you kidding?” Then she frowns. “I mean, you’re my boss, so if you want me to get back and work, I will.”
“Do what you want,” I say.
“I want to be with you.” She grabs my hand once more. “You shouldn’t be alone here.”
“My mom offered to take the day off and come,” I say. “I told her no.”
“What about your dad?”
“I told him no as well.”
That response seems to surprise her. “Then I’m definitely staying. I get that this guy’s a stranger to you, but you shouldn’t be alone.”
Her words have a tone I can’t quite place.
Then her vibrancy returns. “You can dock me a day’s pay. Except that I’m not paid. So I’ll be happy to work late the rest of the week. Or work this weekend. Whatever you need.”
I let out a scoff without meaning to, knowing I should keep the following thought to myself but saying it anyway. “I never thought we needed an intern. You’re superfluous.”
It’s not untrue. We don’t need an intern. We never did. Still, now isn’t the time to bring that up. Ashley is here, and I love her. If Uncle Ry never offered her the internship, she and I wouldn’t have met.
Which may have been best for both of us.
Definitely best for her.
She drops my hand and picks up the copy of Cosmopolitan.
Yeah, I fucked this up. Again.
Chapter Forty-One
Ashley
I admit it. I’m a Cosmo girl. The magazine is like crack to me. I can’t resist the juicy stories written by readers about their most embarrassing sexual encounters. More than once, I’ve considered submitting one of my own. My sexual past is filled with embarrassing stories. Like the time during the summer before my sophomore year of college. I hooked up with a UPS guy one Saturday afternoon while my mom was working. I was in my room reading when she got home.
She knocked on my door and stuck her head in. “I’m home,” she said. “I brought takeout.”
I closed my book. “Sweet. I’ll be right down.”
She gazed downward for a split second and then said, “Sounds good. Be sure to pick up that candy wrapper on the floor.”
Candy wrapper? I hadn’t been eating any candy. I jumped off my bed and—
“Oh, shit,” I said aloud.
The dude’s condom sat on the middle of my floor.
At that point in my life, I was already pretty experienced. I always practiced safe sex, and never once did a guy fail to take care of his used condom. I thought it was something they all did. After-sex etiquette, or whatever. Apparently not this guy.
Yeah, I never saw him again.
I grabbed a tissue and disposed of the candy wrapper in the trash can.
My mother never mentioned it again. She was probably relieved to know I used condoms.
I always thought that story might be good Cosmo fodder.
Today, though, I stare at the words without reading them. They may as well be written in Swahili. The letters blur together and make no sense to me. I shuffle through the pages of the magazine, trying to find something that might take my mind off Dale’s cross words, when I come across an article that piques my interest.
“When He Won’t Open Up.”
I tilt the magazine away from Dale so he can’t see what I’m reading. Not that he’s even looking my way. I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. His birth father is in the middle of open-heart surgery. That’s a big deal for anyone. Not sure how I’d feel if it were my own birth father, the serial rapist, but…
God, both Dale’s and my lives are fucked up in their own way.
I read the title again.
“When He Won’t Open Up.”
I doubt the article is talking about an adopted guy whose birth father is in the middle of