Gran gave me a sad wave, slipping out the side entrance, and I went to work on the avocado toast. After serving that couple, I made a sign that said: One woman show, ring bell.
Two hours later, when the bell rang and I stepped out of the kitchen to see Ashton’s cousin Richie and a young girl with him, I was a bit shocked at their presence.
“Hey.” I didn’t know who knew what, so I didn’t say any more than that.
Richie scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Ashton is closing the kitchen for the next few weeks. I’m gonna bartend and April will cocktail.”
I just stood there, brow furrowed in confusion.
Close the kitchen? Close the…
Oh.
“So, you can go back to New York now,” the girl, April, said, crossing her arms and glaring at me.
My throat tightened with emotion and I had to bite back tears. Was Ashton trying to humiliate me on purpose?
I nodded. “I’ll just go turn off the fryer then and close it down.”
April stepped in front of me. “I can do that. Why don’t you pack your things?” Then she handed me an envelope.
Okay…
Looking down, I recognize the manic chicken scratch that was Ashton’s handwriting. It had two words on the front of the envelope. Good bye.
I thought it might be a long letter, which I’d want to read in private, but curiosity caused me to peek inside and my stomach dropped when I saw the plane ticket.
One way to New York City.
I burst into sobs then, causing both his cousin and the stupid fucking girl to step back a foot, like my sadness shocked them. It was as if they expected me to feel nothing about this complete and utter disgusting send off. I ran from the room, up the stairs and into my apartment, and never looked back.
Ashton
Hospital food wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t nearly good as the devil’s cookin’, but it was decent. The devil was back in New York, thanks to my cousin delivering her plane ticket yesterday, and I was glad. No more pity fucking, no more “save Ashton,” no more psychotic ploys to get close to her ex-husband. I was slamming the door on that shit, no matter what Gran or anyone said. She lied to me, used me. I didn’t care that we’d both lost someone. I wouldn’t go around to Jenna’s organ donor recipient, if she’d had one, and try to worm my way into their life. That was crazy.
I’d looked up the new point of sale app she’d downloaded on my phone, glancing over the orders from yesterday when she ran the place in the morning and saw that she’d sold six orders of avocado toast. Probably just to spite me.
The doc walked in without a knock and I looked up at him with a scowl. “How are we feeling today?”
“Fine. I wanna go home.”
He frowned at me. “You had a major heart attack yester—”
“When can I go home?”
I hated this place, I hated that my father was dying in the room next door. I hated that the universe thought that I deserved this after everything I’d been through.
The doctor sighed, tapping his iPad. “Ashton, your body is rejecting the donor heart. If these new rejection meds don’t work, if you smoke again, if you drink—”
“Then I’ll die,” I told him flatly. Maybe that’s what I’d been trying to do all along. Just to return to Jenna, or go into the big black abyss or whatever awaited us when we died. I wasn’t even sure that Jenna and I would wind up in the same place. If heaven and hell were real, then she’d be upstairs and I’d be down.
When I didn’t say anything else, the doctor tapped the iPad once more. “Okay, I’ll have the nurse work on your discharge paperwork, but I want you to meet with your cardiologist every week for a work-up.”
I saluted him and he left, then I sent a family text to Gran, cousin Richie, and my aunt Maggie that I was getting discharged.
Cousin Richie said he’d pick me up, he had my truck anyway.
Perfect. I’d have my bar back, my apartment back, and I’d sell it to Darcy so I could move on from this whole mess. How stupid that I’d let a pretty woman roll into my life like a bulldozer and change all my plans.
Never again.
By the time my cousin arrived, I was feeling pretty damn good about life. But when he walked in with a frown on his face, I didn’t even want to ask.
“What’s wrong?” I growled. “Did she steal from me or something?”
Wouldn’t put it past the little con artist.
He looked offended. “No.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to give me bad news?” I was still waiting on my damn discharge papers. My cousin walked around to the side of the bed I was leaning against and that’s when I saw the paper in his hands. The swirly feminine writing cut right into my chest and I was reminded of the chalkboard signs Millie did for the bar … a bar that wasn’t even hers.
I held up my hands. “Nope, don’t want it.”
An apology letter from the psycho? No way. “Trash.” I pointed to the bin in the corner.
My cousin shook his head. “It’s not for you. It’s for … him.”
Him?
I was mystified until my cousin blew out a shaky breath. “Colin. We rushed her out like you told us to and I think she forget she left it on the bar top.”
My mouth went dry. She wrote a letter to her dead ex? Now I just felt sorry for her.
He laid it on the bed. “I’m gonna grab a coffee, been a long day.” Then he slipped out the door, leaving me with the offending letter.
I was not reading that. NO way. I didn’t want to know what twisted stuff she wrote to her ex. But the paper was thin … see through, and when I saw my
