A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 47: CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

ASHLEY

Today was going to be dedicated entirely to my business. No drifting thoughts, no unnecessary distractions.

And by distractions, I meant one person in particular—my ex-husband.

I repeated that mantra in my head like a prayer as I surveyed my new office space, the scent of fresh paint and sawdust filling the air. The soft hum of construction buzzed around me as workers hammered, drilled, and shuffled through the half-finished shop. It wasn’t much yet—just a few bare walls and temporary furniture—but it was mine. My first step toward a new beginning in New York.

Securing the space hadn’t been easy. I’d drained my savings and tapped into my emergency fund, barely scraping by with help from Violet. I prayed every day that it would be worth it, that this business would be the change I desperately needed.

This was supposed to be my first step toward change. A fresh start in New York. A new chapter where I could finally build something for myself.

Yeah... as if navigating your feelings for someone you swore you were done with wasn’t already a big enough change.

I shook my head sharply, forcing the thought away. No. Not today. No thinking about Kyle today

“Ash. Ashley!”

The sudden call of my name jolted me from my thoughts, making me jump. My hand jerked, and the coffee overflowed, spilling over the rim of the mug and onto the stack of papers on my temporary desk.

“Shit!” I hissed, quickly setting the coffee pot down and scrambling to move the papers out of the spreading pool of liquid. My hands fumbled, flipping through the pages in a desperate attempt to save them from ruin.

“Here, let me help.” Violet was already at my side, grabbing the remaining sheets and lifting them to safety before the coffee could soak through.

“Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing a handful of napkins to mop up the mess.

Violet gave me a small smile, but her eyes—soft with concern—lingered on me longer than necessary. She wasn’t just worried about my soggy order sheets.

She was worried about me.

Violet had been spending a lot of time here lately, claiming that the noise from the construction somehow helped her focus on drafting her next novel. I didn’t buy it for a second. She hated writing in noisy environments. I knew her well enough to see through the excuse.

The truth? She was hovering. Ever since I told her about Kyle and me—about the strange, complicated dance we’d fallen back into—she’d been extra attentive. Checking in more often. Offering to help even when I didn’t ask. Pretending she wasn’t worried about me slipping back into something that might break me all over again.

“Here,” she said, tearing a few sheets from a roll of paper towels and handing them to me. “Are you okay? Do you need ice?”

I shook my head, wiping my hand where the lukewarm coffee had splashed. “I’m fine. Just... lost in thought.”

Violet’s eyes softened with concern, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. The buzz of drills from the bathroom renovation filled the silence, giving me a momentary reprieve from the weight of her gaze. Workers bustled in and out, installing new tiles and replacing ancient plumbing. The store wouldn’t be ready for another few weeks, but at least the chaos kept me busy.

Busy is good, I thought. Busy means no time to think about Kyle.

But Violet wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

“Thinking about him again?” she asked gently during a lull in the noise.

I let out a shaky breath, offering a weak smile. “I don’t know. It’s been... weird lately.”

Weird. That was an understatement. Kyle had a way of sneaking into my thoughts when I least expected it—when I was pouring coffee, folding laundry, staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. It was maddening.

Violet had done her best to keep me distracted. She dragged me out dancing at bars where neon lights blurred the edges of our memories, took me on a weekend road trip to see the vibrant fall foliage, and forced me to binge-watch my favorite (and most hated) rom-coms while shoving pints of overpriced ice cream into my hands.

But no matter how much I tried to escape him, Kyle always found a way to creep back into my mind.

“He met up with me a few weeks ago,” Violet said softly, breaking through my thoughts.

My head snapped up, my stomach twisting into an uneasy knot. “He what?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. He said he wanted to fix things. He wanted you to forgive him.”

The words hung in the air like a thick fog, suffocating and inescapable.

Kyle wanted me to forgive him?

Violet’s gaze was steady, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can you?”

Could I?

Once upon a time, the answer would have been easy. No. Absolutely not.

Kyle had shattered me in ways I wasn’t sure I could ever recover from. He cheated on me on our anniversary. The memory still felt like a blade to the chest, sharp and unforgiving. And because of him, I lost my baby. Our baby.

Even now, the thought brought a lump to my throat and a sting to my eyes. The me from Germany—the me who packed her bags and left without looking back—would have sworn never to forgive him.

But time had a funny way of clouding things. Of softening edges that once felt so sharp.

Should I forgive him? Would it help me move on? Or would it only reopen wounds I’d fought so hard to close?

“I don’t know,” I whispered after a long pause, my voice barely audible over the hum of drills. “Maybe... with time.”

It wasn’t a real answer, but it was the only one I had.

Violet studied me, her brows knitting together in concern, but she nodded slowly. She understood. She always did.

“And getting back together with him?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

II scoffed, rolling my eyes even as my heart clenched tightly in my chest. “Never. That would never happen.”

We talked for a little while longer, our laughter filling the quiet space, but the moment was fleeting. Violet’s phone buzzed on the counter, and she quickly answered. From the soft urgency in her tone, I could tell it was Ryan.

“Nina needs me,” she explained with an apologetic smile, already gathering her things. And just like that, I was alone again.

The soft hum of construction had faded as the workers wrapped up for the day, leaving behind a stillness that felt almost too loud. I moved through the shop, running my fingers over the unfinished shelves, mentally noting what still needed to be done. My mind buzzed with endless to-dos, but I shoved them aside as I headed for the door to lock up.

The bell above the door chimed softly, and I looked up, surprised to see someone walk in just as I reached for the key.

Ethan.