That's Not a NO

Chapter 11: Can I try to Keep you Close?

"We made you cards!" "Look at my drawing!" "We're eating cake for breakfast!"

She felt a tightness in her throat. Unsure of how to react to the moment. 

Mrs. Tilda emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Don't look at me. This was all them."

Elise looked around, dumbfounded.

Ash stepped forward, calm but watchful. "Before you run screaming, just know—this wasn't about making you uncomfortable."

"Could've fooled me," she muttered.

He handed her a tiny party horn. "We just figured... you give everyone else something to look forward to. So maybe today, you get some of it back."

Little Luca, who was now back to his usual gremlin state, tugged on her shirt. "You always make us smile. It's your turn."

Elise swallowed hard.

Something in her cracked.

She didn't cry. Not right away. Instead, she took the horn, blew into it half-heartedly, and said, "Fine. But I'm not singing."

The rest of the morning was mayhem in the best way.

There was glitter everywhere. Someone (Kelly) started a dance competition. Josh, predictably stiff at first, eventually joined when three kids dragged him by the sleeves. Crystal somehow knew all the lyrics to every early-2000s pop song. Ash was surprisingly good at face painting—he gave one kid a Spiderman mask and another a lopsided unicorn. At one point, someone smeared icing on his shirt and he didn't even flinch.

One kid yelled, "Mr. Ash looks like a rainbow exploded on him!"

"Good," Ash said solemnly, arms out like a hero. "That was my goal."

Elise couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. Not her careful, controlled smirk—but a full, uninhibited laugh.

And then she joined him.

She grabbed a brush and sat cross-legged beside Ash, letting the kids paint butterflies on her hands, stars on her arms. They made a crown of pipe cleaners and put it on her head, and she didn't take it off.

This time, she wasn't doing it to hide or to perform. She was just there. With them. Letting joy exist without condition.

Later, as things wound down and sugar comas began to settle in, Kelly glanced around and asked, "Okay, what now? We already did cake, face paint, dancing, and chaos. What's left?"

Ash looked around and spotted the old upright piano in the corner.

"I could play something," he said casually.

Everyone blinked.

"You play?" Josh asked, dubious.

Ash shrugged. "A little."

He walked over, cracked his knuckles, and sat down. The kids gathered like moths to flame.

He started playing something soft—something from a Disney movie, Elise realized. Then he transitioned into a jazzy version of Happy Birthday that had half the room clapping.

The surprise on their faces was worth it.

"Okay, what don't you do?" Crystal said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ballet," Ash answered without missing a beat.

Elise shook her head, a smile still tugging at her lips. She didn't say anything. She just listened.

When things wound down and the kids grew drowsy from sugar and excitement, Elise stepped outside for air.

Ash followed a minute later, holding two juice boxes.

"You okay?"

She leaned against the porch rail. "Do I look okay?"

"You look like someone who's been tackled by thirty-one children and hit with confetti in the face."

"That's oddly accurate."

He handed her a juice box.

She took it. "Wow. Juice in a box. Classy."

"Only the best for birthday girls who fake-hate celebrations."

Ash tries to downplay it. Little did he know, his little gestures, like the small sticky notes, the peanut free cookies, rattles the very foundation of the armor she's built. And now, seeing him with the kids, with Crystal, Kelly and Josh, it stilled her. Because she'd never imagined, not even in her wildest dreams that she would share these kids with anyone.

Now her secret was exposed. She's not exactly happy about it. But she wasn't angry either. It just felt inevitable. She couldn't exactly bring out her quills after the things he's done for her today.

She looked out at the street. "You did this."

"Team effort."

"But it was your idea."

Ash didn't answer.

She turned to him. "Why?"

"Because you matter to them. And to us. Even when you act like you don't want to."

Elise exhaled slowly.

She was still trying to piece together the shape of this feeling. Being seen without being cornered. Loved without being asked to perform.

"I don't like celebrating because it makes things real," she said finally. "You can't pretend you don't want things when people show up like this."

Ash was quiet.

Then: "Maybe wanting things isn't the weakness you think it is."

A beat passed.

"Maybe," Elise said. "Or maybe you're just a lot braver than me."

Ash shook his head. "Nah. I'm just stubborn."

She laughed, tired but genuine. "I should've known." They shared a moment of silence. Somehow Elise wanted to make this moment last. A moment that she was willing herself to just be. No pretense, no hiding.

"I see the light." she whispered.

"Huh?"

"That song from the movie, I liked that one. I didn't know you played the piano."

"You're special. I never ever played for anyone," he confessed. "Careful, Navarro. You keep saying things like that, people might think you actually like me.

"In your dreams."

Ash smiled, then changed the subject. "You know this means we're doing this every year, right?"

"Over my dead body."

"See? That's the spirit."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't move. Didn't reach for her bag. Didn't end the moment.

She wasn't ready to say yes—not to him, not to this, not to the mess of wanting things.

But she wasn't saying no, either.

For now, that felt dangerously close to the same thing.