When There Is Nothing Left But Love

My prompt registered immediately. Ashton stood up and proffered a hand, suave and refined. However, his gaze lingered on Summer and Michael when he noticed them.

Michael seemed to be a late bloomer, at least in comparison to Summer. Both of them were five years old, but Michael appeared a year younger.

Ashton’s expression darkened, but I waved it off. “What would you like to eat?” I directed my question to the children.

Summer seemed to be in a foul mood. While her eyes were still on Ashton, she replied, “Anything you make is fine, Mommy.”

Michael caught sight of my injured ankle and suggested, “Let Daddy cook for us tonight.”

This was nothing out of the norm, but Michael’s words were piercing to Ashton’s ears.

I offered no clarification. Instead, I looked at Colin and teased lightly, “Looks like it’s your turn to show off your cooking skills tonight.”

Colin could be rather tactless at times, and his ability to read the room was failing him at the moment. Though he was taken aback by Ashton’s presence, he invited graciously, “Mr. Fuller, please stay for dinner with us. We cook with homegrown produce. You should try some.”

Ashton masked his emotions and nodded, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

I glanced at the children and instructed them as usual, “Both of you pick some vegetables from the back garden. Summer, don’t bully Michael, understand?”

but nodded obediently. “You’re so unfair, Mommy.

than you. If you continue

bully him!” Summer picked up both baskets and told Michael indignantly, “Mommy says that I can’t bully you, so I’ll help

was, corrected Summer, “Daddy says that I’m a strong man, and strong men should protect girls. You’re not bullying

toward the back garden,

head in resignation, but my lips curled upwards involuntarily. I had always worried that Summer would feel lonely, but seeing how Summer and Michael were closer

reality. I turned to find Ashton burning holes in me with his

his gaze, I blurted, “Please make yourself at

wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back. His voice seemed to rumble in his chest as he asked, “Have

skipped a beat at the simple question. I met his gaze and replied with

as he chuckled ruefully.

nodded slightly. “Make yourself at home while I help out in the kitchen,” I repeated as the conversation

past four years, but my mind has been cruel to me. The more I try to

would break me. Perhaps it might have seemed like I

were gentle yet pained, reflecting the conflicting emotions within. A loud silence fell upon us. Seconds ticked by before he finally spoke. “Fine!” The weight of a single syllable pressed down

afterward. I exhaled heavily as I watched his retreating back.

when he saw me. “I can handle this myself. Go and keep