Page 49 of The Rest is History

The only thing that exists is this baby in my arms. He gurgles, and I laugh, and it’s only then that I realize I have tears in my eyes.

My shoulders shake. Stop this. This is embarrassing. So embarrassing.

A warmth engulfs me as Asher steps closer. Instinct has me leaning into the warmth suddenly surrounding me. A hand on my back, rubbing gently. My body freezes, Asher’s touch foreign and familiar at the same time, and the familiarity wins out. Even though this is only the second time I’m seeing him, it’s like the decade that separated us never existed. How easy it is to fall into his care.

“You’re okay.” Asher’s voice is near my ear.

I hold the baby closer to my chest, breathing as deeply as I can to keep the sobs away. It helps. Though my eyes are filled with tears, I manage to keep myself together. He’s right. I’m okay.

“Hey,” I coo at Ezra. His tight fists flail in the air and I take one of them in my hand and bring it to my lips. Kissing his tiny knuckles, I whisper, “You’re so gorgeous.” His face scrunches up, and he gives a big yawn. “You’re tired? You’re so tired.” He stretches his body, and I love the downward turn of his mouth, like he’s worked all day and is now displeased for the interruption to his rest.

“If you put him on your shoulder, he’ll be out like a light in no time,” Pippin says.

I turn Ezra, carefully maneuvering him until his head is resting just below my shoulder. His smell. I inhale deeply. My eyes fill with tears again. Now, I know the smell of a baby. Abby’s socks don’t smell like this. Maybe Sawyer was just being nice when he told me so.

Sawyer returns and I know what it must look like, Asher standing so close to me. The three of us must look like the three of them did a few minutes ago, but instead of suspicion or disapproval, when Sawyer’s eyes meet mine across the room, the intensity of his gaze heats my blood. His eyes move to Asher’s, and I know something has changed.

Chapter 21

Sawyer

The light from the hall casts dimly into the living room. Not much can compare to the warmth and coziness offered by our living room. Asher and I have spent many, many lazy nights in this space.

Now, we’re swallowed up by the overstuffed sofa. He’s lying across the length of the couch and I’m lying across his body, my head resting on his chest. A pile of mismatched cushions lie on the floor.

Two cups of coffee, Asher’s one half finished, sit on the coffee table. Although it’s May, tonight is slightly chilly. I tuck my legs under the knit blanket at the bottom of the couch. The moon shines right into the living room through the open curtains.

An episode of Game of Thrones is playing on the TV, and Asher is engrossed. I’m slightly bored. I already watched this episode on my day off, but I have to pretend, because we don’t watch episodes ahead of each other in this house, even if we’re about five years late to the series. I let my mind wander. Thoughts of Reece are not far from my mind. Not that I’m doing much to keep them away. The subtle changes in him over the last two months have become unavoidable. I don’t think this attraction is one-sided.

The ethical dilemma has become unmanageable. I shift against Asher, trying to find a more comfortable spot. His eyes are still glued to the TV, but his hand comes up absently to rub my back.

The show is nearing the end, thank God. Asher moves his hand until his fingers sink into my hair. He massages my scalp absently, grabbing my hair slightly and pulling, causing the pressure in my head to ease. I groan in pleasure.

“You’ve been tossing all through the episode,” he says. The credits on the screen roll. “You want to talk about it?”

I turn onto my back. Asher sits up and I place my head on his lap, looking up at him. “There’s no decorum between us, right?” I ask.

“Right. And no dramatic commentary on this episode?”

Oh. Fuck. I forgot to complain about how much I hate Cercei Lannister.

He grabs my throat suddenly. “You watched this episode already, didn’t you?”

I pretend to choke and die. “No. No. I swear, I didn’t.”

He laughs and squeezes harder. “You did. You’re such an asshole. I can’t even stand you right now.”

Then, he reaches back to turn the lamp on. I grab his hand. “No. Leave it off. I need the dark to cover my shame.”

Asher grins. “I can still see you.”

I reach up to grab his face. He comes down and kisses me, and when I let his mouth go, he remains close to me. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s about Reece.”

“I figured.” He kisses me again, tracing his thumb across my lips.

I press a kiss to his thumb. “Reece has been acting . . . differently recently.”

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