"Spencer, please" Her voice is raw.

"You want me to wait?! You're asking me to wait?!" I turn around angrily to face her, to look her in the eye.

Her eyes drift away from my face to the floor.

"Fuck you Ashley, fuck you" I say it with such force I don't even recognize my voice. I feel the tears streaming down my face, and I want her to see them, but who knows if she'll look at me.

"Spence.." She sobs and her knee's buckle causing her to fall to the floor.

I look around nervously at the few people still hanging around the lobby of the hotel. "Get up, you're making a scene" I say through gritted teeth.

She stands up and wipes away her tears. "I love you"

"I'm not doing this again Ash" I whisper.

And with that, I walk away.

I left my heart in Miami, with the heartless soul that stole it from me.

"Ashley, do you want spaghetti or macaroni and cheese for dinner?" I ask.

She is laying on the couch with her eyes closed. "Spaghetti would be nice, thank you"

"Okay, and you're welcome" I smile and start putting water in the pot.

"You know, no one ever cooked for me except you" She says from behind me.

I didn't realize she had gotten up.

"Really? What about you're mom?" I ask.

Her shoulders shrug up and down. "What about her? She was a workaholic and always made tv dinners whenever she was home"

I am silent because I don't know what to say. We never talked about her mom much when we were younger, it just never came up.

She leans back against the counter and is playing with her hair, just like she used to do when we lived together.

"Spencer?" Her voice carries through the apartment as she enters.

I set the glass of wine I'm drinking on the counter. "In here"

She turns around the corner and I immediately smile. "Hi baby"

Her arms wrap around my waist and her lips make contact with mine. "Hi" She smiles up at me.

"How was your day?" She asks, pouring herself a glass of wine.

"It was fine, nothing to exciting, how was yours?" I pour the sauce into a pan and light the stove.

She sighs. "It was okay, the boss wants me to up my work hours, but I told him I had to think about it first."

"Oh, by how much?"

"Hm, fifteen more hours per week." Her voice is lined with annoyance.

"That's a lot" I say softly.

"I know" She sips on her wine. "But lets talk about something else" She skips into the living room and I know she is about to put on some music.

And I know exactly what she is about to play.

"If I could turn back time, by Cher" Its her favorite song of all times and she lip syncs to it almost every night.

She comes waltzing into the kitchen with a hair brush in one hand acting as her microphone and she is in her underwear and bra with a leather jacket on.

I smile to myself and continue making dinner and watching my girl put on a show for me, and damn, does she know how to put on a show.