Ashton Scott would have to be the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.
And I have no intention of ever calling him.
4
Ashton
“We missed you the other night,” Alessandra says over the phone two days after I missed the dinner she’d asked me to attend.
“I’m surprised I haven’t heard from you already.” I’d texted her to say I wouldn’t be there and hadn’t received a message or call in return. Not my sister’s usual mode of operation.
“Some of us have better things to do than chase Ashton Scott around.” Her tone is cutting—unusually so for her.
“And what the fuck does that mean?” I throw the towel I’m holding over my shoulder and take a long drink from my water bottle. After a demanding day in the office, I’ve just spent the last hour running on the treadmill in my home gym.
She sighs. “Fuck, just ignore me. I’m in a bitchy mood and wine isn’t working as well as it usually does. I ran into Cassia today, or should I say that she ran into me, and she’s still carrying on about you.” She stops talking and I hear her drinking. “You really need to put her out of her misery.”
Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the towel, I groan. “What would you suggest I do, Aly? I was extremely clear with what I wanted a year ago when I broke up with her, and I’ve been nothing but clear every time she’s approached me since. I can
’t help it if she’s choosing not to listen to what I’m saying.”
“I can’t believe I am going to say this, but you're too nice to her.”
“So, what, you think I should be an asshole to her just because I didn’t love her the way she loved me?”
“Well, you’re an asshole to everyone else. Maybe it will force her to listen.” There’s no love lost between Alessandra and my ex. From the day I introduced them to the day I left Cassia, they were at odds with each other. Cassia’s socialite status and refusal to work rubbed my sister the wrong way. Alessandra doesn’t share Cassia’s belief that an inheritance is a reason to sleep in most days and spend the rest of your time socialising.
“Aly,” I chastise.
She takes another loud sip of her wine. “No, don’t give me that. Cassia has you fooled. She’s a bitch who plays to your good side and as a result, she gets away with things that others don’t where you’re concerned. You’re blind to it, Ashton.”
I leave my gym and take the stairs up to my bedroom, two at a time. “I’m not blind. I just have no interest in confronting it. The thing with Cassia is if you give her an inch, she’ll take a mile. If I start a conversation with her, fuck knows what she’ll make of it and where it’ll all end up.”
Alessandra sighs again. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I want you to tell me why you didn’t make it for dinner on Monday night.” I hear a loud noise on her end, and then—“Shit, can you give me a minute? Sadie’s just bloody smashed a vase and Malcolm is nowhere to be seen.”
The sounds of her yelling at her daughter for breaking her prized possession and then of her yelling through the house for her husband fill my ears. Alessandra has two sides to her personality: the in-control businesswoman I deal with during the day and this frazzled, wine-guzzling wife-slash-mother at night.
While I wait for her to sort out her domestic chaos, I take the opportunity to stretch. My shoulders are tight, even after having a massage a few days ago. I’ll need to have Jessica schedule another appointment to get these knots sorted.
“Jesus, don’t ever get married or have children,” Alessandra mutters into the phone. “Although, you’d have it easy because you’re the damn man. Ugh. I should have become a lesbian.”
“I’m concerned about you. Your level of domestic disorder seems to have escalated. What’s going on?”
“Malcolm is going on, that’s what!”
“Aly, you’ve been married for nine years. Surely you two have your shit together by now.”
Another long sip of wine. And then she lets loose on me. “You have no idea about marriage. I’m beginning to think that it wouldn’t matter if we’d been married for a hundred fucking years. He’d still be clueless about how to make his wife happy. Do you know what he had the hide to say to me today?”
I shudder to think. “What?”
Another long sip of wine. Surely that glass is nearly empty. “He suggested I take some defensive driving lessons. Can you fucking believe that?”
I can, but no way in hell am I admitting that to her. Not in the state she’s in. Malcolm adores her and he’s a good husband. Alessandra just loses sight of that every now and then.
Before I have a chance to form a reply, she continues, “Don’t answer that because I know what you would say. Just take note—never say shit like this to your woman.”
“Duly noted.” I can’t see myself ever settling down with someone for the same length of time Alessandra’s been with Malcolm. Not because I don’t want to, but rather because I can’t seem to find the right woman.