And she smiled a smile that almost made me forget. “You called me Spence. Like you know me.”

“It was an accident.”

“But we weren’t. We weren’t an accident. Me and you,” she said, her eyes still on the road, “I know that I fucked up.”

“You did. You fucked everything up.”

“I know, but what can I say, Ashley? All I wanna…I want to play all sorts of instruments for you while you lie on my floor. I want to watch you fall in love with me and I want to be worthy of your presence because I know I can be if you give me another chance.”

“Do you have hardwood floors, because or else the instrument thing wouldn’t work.”

“I have tile floors. I have murals everywhere. Aiden hated it. He said it looked like a museum. But I love it. I think they’re great.”

“It sounds amazing. I’m sure it’s amazing.”

“I’d really like for you to see them.”

“Well…”

“I know, I know. I fucked it up. I get it,” she said, wiping away tears, “I get it.”

We didn’t say anything else because unless I relented there was nothing else to say. Finally she pulled into some old, Victorian Bed and Breakfast and turned off the engine.

“I would’ve taken a Holiday Inn or something. This is going to be really expensive.”

“It’s on me.”

“No…”

“Yeah, just let me do this, ok? It’s my fault so let it be my fault.”

I would’ve argued with her but I thought it might make her feel better to buy my forgiveness monetarily. Sometimes anything will suffice.

“Ok…”

“I’ll help you with your luggage.”

I nodded before we exited the car. When she popped the trunk and I watched in silent appreciation as she unloaded my suitcases. She really was beautiful and it took me everything not to tell her. I’m sure she’s been told.

She checked me in for a night. I suddenly remembered while Spencer signed her name to the receipt that the next day we’d be sitting side-by-side on a plane on our way back to some form of normalcy. What a mess this weekend had turned out to be.

“So here we are then,” she said, interrupting my thoughts, “it’s nice.”