Some people are a complication you don't see coming.
Ashley has had a thing for me since she was thirteen years old — her sister Felicity and I dated in college, which is how she knows me, and apparently I made an impression I wasn't aware of at the time. She married Ted, who is one of the best men I know: devoted, loyal, the kind of husband who sacrificed his own career so Ashley's could take off. I was a groomsman at their wedding. Ted is my fishing buddy. This is all relevant context.
Ted suggested I use Ashley as my realtor when I was house-hunting. He thought he was doing us both a favor. He was not wrong, exactly, but he also had no idea what he was setting in motion. The chemistry between Ashley and me is the kind that doesn't ask permission, and we both knew it the moment it showed up.
Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. Ted is my friend and Ashley knows that matters more to me than whatever this is. What we have instead is an understanding — a very carefully maintained fiction that gives Ashley somewhere to put something she can't act on and gives me a problem I didn't ask for and can't quite bring myself to walk away from.
Ted knows, by the way. He's always known. He trusts his wife completely, and so far that trust has been warranted.
So far.
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