“Oh, of course.” God, what must her flat look like?
She opened the door wider and winced at what Ashley would be seeing. Dishes in the kitchen, a blanket rumpled on the sofa from where Lauren had been sleeping the day before. An ice cream carton on one of the side tables.
“Here.” Ashley passed the coffee over, saying nothing about the state of the apartment.
“Thank you.” Lauren took a sip to be polite. Her stomach groaned. She hadn’t eaten in a while and the hit of coffee didn’t sit well. She placed the cup down.
“So?”
Lauren pulled her hair over one shoulder, running her fingers through its ends, her eyes not holding Ashley’s.
“So what?”
“No, you don’t. I know you too well for that, young lady.”
Despite the heavy sense of grief and guilt that sat around Lauren’s throat, Ashley’s turn of phrase brought a smile to her face. “Not so young anymore.”
“I know you better than just about anyone. You’re like my own daughter, so don’t you stand there and tell me there’s nothing going on. We’re worried about you.”
“We?” She nodded jerkily. Her parents. They were friends with Ashley; they’d been bonded by Thom’s death as much as anyone.
Silence shifted between them, heavy and accusatory. Lauren reached for the coffee cup simply in an attempt to break the noiselessness.
“I’m fine,” she said eventually.
“Sure you are,” Ashley said with a shake of her head. “You’re fading away to nothing, you look like you haven’t washed your hair or slept in weeks, and more than that, I know you, Lauren. I know you. What’s happened?”
Lauren shook her head, unable to put it into words, especially to this woman. “I can’t –,”
“You know I love you. Tell me what’s happened.”
And just like that, the floodgates opened and tears fell down Lauren’s cheeks unchecked. She dipped her head forward in a poor attempt to hide them but it didn’t work. Ashley’s arms folded around Lauren, wrapping her in just the hug she needed, so warm and accepting. She sobb
ed as she’d never done to Ashley – she’d always felt it was her place to be strong for her mother in law, rather than to indulge her own emotions. But now she cried, freely, openly, heavily and Ashley rubbed Lauren’s back and made soothing noises, calming, comforting, loving. Lauren sobbed again, shaking her head. It was too hard.
She cried and then, without her consent, words began to tumble from her lips. “You know how much I loved Thom, Ash. He was my husband and I thought – I always meant – to love him until I died. I never wanted to meet someone else, and I wish, I wish –,”
“Shhh, shhh,” Ashley murmured, running her hand over the back of Lauren’s head before pulling away so they could see one another’s faces. “You’re telling me you’ve met another man?”
Lauren bit down on her lip, unable to say the words aloud.
“And you feel guilty, because you think that means you somehow love Thom less?”
Lauren squeezed her eyes shut.
“You think that man, my son, the boy I raised to be good and noble and who loved you more than just about anything, would have expected you to stay single as some kind of tribute to your relationship?”
Lauren kept her eyes closed.
“You honestly think he would want that for you?”
Her heart thundered.
“All Thom ever wanted was to make you happy.”
Lauren sobbed.
“If the positions had been reversed, would you have wanted him to be alone?”