“I wish you could have seen the look on his face when he talked about why he bought it. He loves it, and because of me, he’s giving it up.”

“So move into it with him.”


“What?” I frown, and she rolls her eyes.

“If you don’t want him to sell it, then just move in with him.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re blonde now.”

“Shut up.” I smile as the wheels in my head start to turn.

“What did you drive?”

“My Suburban, why?” she asks, studying me.

“I need your help.”

“Does this help involve carrying heavy shit?”

“Maybe.” I shrug, picking up my coffee, taking another sip and hoping this plan of mine works.

“You are so lucky I wore sneakers,” she mutters, and I grin.

*

“What the fuck is going on?” is roared, and I look at Michelle with wide eyes and feel my heart lodge itself in my throat.

“Oh shit,” I breathe, and my stupid best friend has the audacity to point at me and laugh as the bottles of my shampoo and conditioner in my hand drop and clatter to the bathroom floor.

“Ashlyn?” he calls, and I duck down. Why? I don’t know; it’s not like he can’t see me. But I feel safer hidden behind Michelle, who is now laughing like a hyena.

“Michelle, can I talk to my wife? Alone?” he asks, exaggerating the word wife, and I cringe.

“Yep.” She turns to look at me, mouthing, Alpha Male Syndrome, then smiles. “I’ll call you tomorrow, love you,” she chirps, disappearing out of the bathroom and leaving me to face my very pissed off husband.

“Do you want to tell me why the fuck all my shit is packed?” he asks, swinging his hand in the direction of the bedroom.

“I…” I freeze. He must not have noticed I packed a lot of my stuff as well.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” he growls before I have a chance to answer. “I’m not moving out, and if you think I am, you have lost your damn mind.”

“Dillon,” I interject softly, and his eyes narrow.

“I wasn’t even gone for three hours, and in that time, you convinced yourself that we’re separating?” He leans in. “Think again, baby, ’cause it’s not happening. Not now, not ever. We’re married, and are staying fucking married.” He clips off the last point close to my face.

“Married?”

Oh, fuck me, not again.

My eyes slice past Dillon to my dad standing in the doorway of my room. “Dad.”

“What’s going on?” my mom questions, coming up behind my dad and putting her hand to his waist so she can see around him.

“Apparently, your daughter is a married woman now,” he growls, looking down at her.

“Dad,” I repeat, feeling suddenly heartbroken. He only does the whole ‘I’m my mom’s kid’ thing when he’s really pissed off at me.

“Married?” Mom whispers, looking at me with wide, hurt-filled eyes.

“Let’s go sit down and talk about this,” Dillon suggests, sounding much calmer than he did moments ago, and my dad’s eyes swing to him and fill with anger.

“Talk? You want to talk to me now? Why the fuck didn’t you talk to me before you married my only goddamn daughter?” he barks, and my arms wrap around my waist. I knew this would be bad. I knew it. But still, I secretly hoped it would turn out okay once I told them.

“Honey, calm down,” Mom whispers from his side, and I watch him pull in a ragged breath.

“I don’t even know what the fuck to say right now.” He pulls off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair then looks at me. “I can’t believe you kept this from your mom and me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, thinking those words don’t even come close to conveying how horrible I truly feel right now.

“You.” He points at Dillon. “I’ve trusted you.”

“He wanted to tell you,” I defend without thinking, stepping between them, only to have Dillon put his hand to my waist and pull me to his side.

“Yeah, but he didn’t,” he mutters, then looks down at my mom. “Come on, let’s get home.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, leading her away. I want to say something to stop them from going, but I know right now it’s best if I let them go and give them a chance to cool down. I also know I need to come up with a valid reason for keeping them in the dark.

“Shhhh.” Dillon’s arms engulf me as a sob climbs up the back of my throat and my body jerks forward. “It will be okay. They just need some time for the news to sink in,” he whispers, and I cry harder into his chest. Scooping me up into his arms, he carries me out of the room to the living room and settles us on the couch, with me in his lap. “Please calm down. The tears are killing me.”

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