After finalizing the wedding plans, Alex drove
me home. A blue Pagani Huayra was parked
outside. Ashton stepped out, looking exhausted,
with dark circles under his eyes and stubble
shadowing his jaw. He’d driven all night. He frowned at Alex. “Is this… him? The guy you’re
marrying?” I nodded, and his expression
darkened. “Olivia, we need to talk.” Alex gave
10:09
<
44
us some space. Ashton watched him go, his
voice low. “Why him?” I thought for a moment.
“Maybe… he was just there at the right time.”
Why him? Because Alex needed this marriage
for his mom, and I needed it to let go of Ethan
and extinguish any hope for Ashton. Ashton’s
composure broke. He grabbed my shoulders,
his brown eyes filled with pain. “You loved
Ethan for so long. I don’t believe you’ve moved
on this quickly!” “If it’s because he hurt you,
you could have chosen me! You know how I
feel!” I met his gaze calmly. “Ashton, we’re not
right for each other. It was never meant to be.”
“Not right? And he is?!” His voice rose. I
hesitated, picturing the quiet moments with
Alex: him in an apron, a shy smile on his face,
Pudding circling his feet as he made breakfast.
It was a simple, comforting image of
domesticity. “Yes,” I said firmly. “He is.“
