Hey There, Delilah

Moving On

Song: a running away/starting over playlist by y4ku

Time slipped through Ambrose's fingers like water. Before he knew what'd hit him, Halloween arrived. Bringing carved pumpkins and spiced coffee. Cameron went as a ghost—he couldn't be bothered to put any effort into his costume. As long as he got candy then he was more than happy.

Ambrose watched Cameron toddle after Jill and Vincent, taking his heart with them. This year Ambrose stayed behind for one last get together with his employees. Loyal customers and owners of other shops joined them. They celebrated the end with laughter, booming music, and a little too much alcohol.

Nursing a cold beer, Ambrose watched the pleasantries unfold from the corner of the room. All the equipment had been sold for what Ambrose guessed correctly: $100,000. Split evenly that left each of them with 25k a piece to start over elsewhere.

Hours crawled by. He blinked. Then he was locking up his uncle's shop for the last time with the most defeated feeling filling his sinking heart.

The next day was spent packing up clothes and food. Labeling boxes. Putting up with Cameron's little bursts of attitude whenever he got fed up with helping out. Little by little their small apartment became smaller and smaller. One by one the things that made it a home vanished, leaving Ambrose reeling.

With Vincent's apartment already furnished it didn't make sense to bring Ambrose's old junk. In the end he gave it all away to the woman that lived above them for free.

Now he stood in an empty apartment, sweat casting a dewy glow over his tanned skin. His stormy eyes trailed over the vacant spot in the living room where they set up their fake Christmas tree. It was the same place Cameron stood on his own for the first time without Ambrose's help. Three paces to the right was where Cameron took his first steps. Cameron said his first words where the couch used to be. Cameron spent weeks crying his eyes out when his teeth were coming in. Ambrose had leaned against these very walls, crying too, feeling helpless.

Seven years didn't seem like much. But now that it was all gone and packed up in his SUV, seven years felt like a lost eternity that he could never return to.

Jill placed a gentle hand on his back, leaning her cheek against his arm. "Vincent texted me. Serafina made it to the apartment. No scratches."

Ambrose laughed but it sounded hollow. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"So then let's go," Jill said, taking Ambrose's wrist in hand. "There's nothing left for us here."

Ambrose wanted to shake his head. Tell Jill that she was wrong. His whole life was here. A life that he built with her help and Vincent's and even his zia's when she had the time.

This place wasn't nothing.

But one look into her warm hazel eyes silenced him forever.

Jill's fair skin was flushed from the manual labor. Her high bun was falling apart. Strands of chestnut hued baby hair framed her sweaty face. She wore one of Ambrose's old shirts tucked into a new pair of denim shorts that she'd been over the moon to buy.

Noah never let her wear shorts in public. She wasn't allowed to wear white either. So Jill wore new white shoes in a sort of silent rebellion. They were dirty now. It made her immensely happy to know that Noah would've been red in the face to see her so "messy."

Not that she'd ever allow him that privilege again. In the few weeks that passed the fight for their divorce continued. Jill let her lawyer handle everything—detaching herself from the whole situation.