worn lately. The jeans were designer quality as well. The clothes would definitely give a boost to my wardrobe.
Was he ashamed of the way I dressed, how I lived?
My common sense warred with my immense embarrassment when I stared at the jeans I had on. They were worn, and there was no hiding it. My T-shirt was probably the best I owned, but around the neck, the color was fading.
“Why’d you do it?” I muttered. He must’ve known how angry this would make me. Hadn’t we discussed boundaries?
I’d seen his face earlier as he picked out gifts for a child he didn’t know and his excitement as he gushed over what to buy. The way he’d cared for Mario today, expecting nothing in return. Our lunch date.
Some of the cramping in my gut eased. Ashton liked giving. He had no ulterior motive but doing something nice for me. Deep down, I knew that, but I’d need to tear the shroud of pride over my heart before I could accept these gifts.
No doubt, he never thought I’d accept them, so he’d kept them from me. I couldn’t blame him, given my reaction to the television and even paying for his AA books.
Enough. Ash is a good guy.
I swallowed my pride. Before I could change my mind, I yanked my T-shirt over my head.
I would be a little late, but so be it. I took the iron to one of the fancy shirts he got me. Shit, I remembered what it felt like to wear shirts like these constantly. The jeans hugged my ass and thighs in a soft caress. A little tight-fitting, but Ashton would like that.
I would’ve liked to wash them first, but there was no time. I needed Ash to see that I was making an effort to change too. He didn’t have to be perfect in the way he thought perfection meant. None of us was perfect.
My pride was one thing I’d have to deal with. Before I’d fixed up the apartment, it had been a mess. I’d even turned down Phil when he’d invited me to stay in his guest room until the place was habitable.
I’d slept on a mattress on the floor for about a month before I slowly acquired secondhand furniture. I’d sold all of mine back in New York to facilitate Mario’s and my move here.
The mirror didn’t lie. I looked damn good. Ashton would be pleased. I even took the time to run a brush through my hair. I only needed new boots, but these old ones would have to do for now. I could work up to buying a new pair.
I had to pick up Ashton at his home, and there was every possibility that I’d meet his mother. That wasn’t the reason for the nervousness in my gut, though. It wasn’t the reason I wanted to puke at all. The feeling was ridiculous, but I was anxious about Ashton seeing me in these new clothes.
What if it really hit him that I couldn’t even afford to buy better clothes for myself? But he already knew that and didn’t seem to care.
Fuck, what if the clothes hadn’t been meant for me? Too late for that now. I’d already been admitted onto the Keyeses’ property and was parked at the front of the house nestled on a sprawling estate.
My hands gripped the steering wheel as I took in Ashton’s wealth. Shit, why did he want to hang around my cramped apartment so much? Even the pool house I could see was bigger than my space.
A middle-aged woman, dressed conservatively in a brown-and-orange dress and flat boots, appeared at the top of the steps. I couldn’t turn back now. I hated that I was acting this way when I had to pick Ashton up, but he meant the world to me. I wanted his mother to be able to tolerate me at least.
If their relationship improved, I believed half of Ashton’s stress would disappear. The woman had no idea of how inadequate she made him feel.
I climbed the steps. The plainly dressed woman was more than likely not his mother. With a place like this, they would have servants. Ashton often spoke about one maid who had raised him.
“You must be Master Ashton’s boyfriend, Callum.”
She might not have been his mother, but displeasure was written all over her face nonetheless. She made no qualm about eyeing me up and down.
“Yes, I’m Callum.” I extended my hand instead of waiting on her to offer. “Nice