“Dad, nothing can make me happy now.”

He smiles again, and again I want to punch him in the nose.

“Dale,” he says, “you have to live with this no matter what. What your birth father did to you and Donny. With the results of the fire. What you did. All of that is yours to live with.”

“I fucking know that!” I tug at my hair. “See? No fucking choice.”

“But there is,” Dad says calmly. “It’s like the poem says. You can choose which road to take.”

“My father and that damned poem!”

“He marked it for a reason—a reason we can only surmise. But you found it. Let it speak to you. Think about which choice to make now.”

“Neither changes what I’ve been through.”

“You’re absolutely right, Dale,” Dad says. “You have to live with all of it. That’s not part of the choice. Your choice is—do you want to live with it with Ashley? Or without her?”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Ashley

The next morning, I force myself out of bed. I didn’t sleep. I seriously don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.

I’m going home to LA.

Home to my mother. We can commiserate together. We’re both basically in the same situation—the end of a short relationship with men we loved. Except her man didn’t leave her by choice.

No. I can’t cry about this anymore. I just can’t.

I traipse into the small bathroom.

Ugh. I’m unrecognizable. My eyes are still bloodshot and swollen, my nose nearly raw from crying and blowing it into the sandpaper tissues this hotel provides.

I can’t stay here. I have to go as soon as I can make arrangements. I need a car. Or a plane ticket and a trip to the airport. A plane ticket will be easier. I take a quick shower and then fire up my laptop. The sooner I can escape Colorado, the better. I’ll call a cab to take me to the airport. It’ll cost a ton, but I have a credit card.

I’ve stopped caring, anyway.

I’ll go home. Finish school. Get my degree. Get a job.

I’ll go through life the way I always thought I would.

Except now it’s no longer enough.

I inhale deeply. Doesn’t matter. It is what it is. The words I said to Jade yesterday.

It is what it is.

The travel site opens on my computer, I plug in my destination, and hit search.

I jerk when someone knocks on the door.

Housekeeping, most likely. “I’m still here. Please come back later,” I yell.

The knock comes again. Then again, much louder this time. My God, the maid here must be a linebacker.

I get up and pull the door open. “I said I’m st—”

My heart thumps wildly.

Dale.

He stands on the other side of the door, looking worse than I do, if that’s even possible. His gorgeous green eyes are bloodshot, and his hair… Well, the only time I’ve seen it worse was after the fire.

“Ashley…”

Oh, God. That voice. That Syrah-coated voice that makes me tremble.

Why? Why has he come here to torment me?

“Why are you here?” I ask in a clipped voice.

His gaze drops to my left hand. “You’re still wearing them.”

My wedding band and engagement ring. I couldn’t bear to take them off. Now I wish I had…until I notice he’s still wearing his band as well.

He strides inside the small room then, owning it as usual. He owns every room he walks into. That’s just who he is. Dale—so strong and masculine and brilliant and full of vigor—and he’s the only one who can’t see it.

He holds a small paperback and a bottle of wine. Château Lascombes. His favorite. He opens the book. “Read this.”

“What for?”

“Please. Just read it.”

I take it from him with a huff.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

* * *

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

* * *

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

* * *

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

“Robert Frost,” I say.

“Yes.”

“I’ve read it before.”

“Does it speak to you?” he asks.

I close the book and hand it back to him. “Robert Frost wrote beautiful stuff. It speaks to everyone. What is this about? Because if you’re here to break my heart again—”

“No, Ashley.” He reaches toward me, his hand trembling, as if he wants to touch me but fears my reaction. As well he should. “I’m here to tell you the truth. I’m here to beg your forgiveness. I’m here to share my favorite Bordeaux with you. Only you. I’m here to… I’m here to take a road I didn’t think I could ever take.”

He opens the bottle of wine, grabs two glasses from the table in the room, pours, and hands one to me. I take a sip. It’s delicious, but that’s all I can contemplate, because Dale begins to speak.

He speaks earnestly.

And I listen.

I listen to the man I love tell me his innermost secrets. I watch him cry. His red-wine voice morphs into silver sadness.

He lets go. He opens up. He tells me things he thinks will turn me away from him forever.

Instead, I turn toward him, my heart breaking for the lost little boy inside.

And I hold him.

Epilogue