Page 52 of The Rest is History

It comes out of nowhere, so it’s reasonable that I feel a little like I’ve been hit by a bus. “Uh—”

That’s all I’ve got for him.

I assess his face trying to find the reason for this question. He gives nothing away and I want to straddle his lap and tell him that if I had a second chance with his husband I would take it in a heartbeat and then I would die of guilt because I want him too. And in the end, the answer is no. No, I won’t accept a second chance with Asher because Asher is his and I could never hurt him like that.

Sawyer leans forward. I can smell his cologne. Maybe it’s Asher’s cologne and he just borrowed it today. Maybe they had sex this morning and the smell is not just cologne. Maybe it’s cologne and sex. “Would you?” he asks.

“Not when he belongs to someone else,” I say tightly because all the things I want to say are at the tip of my tongue but I’ll never, ever utter them. But this – this answer is an honest one. Sawyer is kind and lovely and wonderful, and I don’t want to lie to him, even about this.

“But the fact remains. You’d take the chance if you could.”

“Yes,” I breathe. “But not under the current circumstances.” And because his approval of me is as important as Asher’s once was, I beg and plead for him to understand. “I swear to you, Sawyer. I don’t have any ulterior motives. It’s true I’ll always love Asher. He was my best friend. But I’m not going to come between you two.”

“You won’t come between us? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I almost shout out the answer. “Have I given the impression that I’m not trustworthy?” I ask, unable to keep the panic from my voice. My secret vile thoughts have nothing to do with reality, I keep telling myself. As long as they remain in that place where no one can ever know, I can fight for a friendship with this man who has accepted me into his life without hesitation.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what, Sawyer? Please tell me.” I’m becoming desperate.

His eyes are trained on my lips. My stomach dips. My mouth dries up. My breath whooshes out of my body. What the fuck is going on here?

“Why don’t you come over for dinner this weekend?”

“What?” That doesn’t make any sense. I cast my eyes around, making sure we’re still far enough away from everyone else.

“Yeah. You said you’re not here to come between me and Asher. So, why not? Besides, it’s your birthday on Saturday, isn’t it? You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”

I have a feeling I should decline, but I can’t. I want to be in their home. I want to be with them. I want to watch them and imagine the things they do when they’re together.

We hardly talk the rest of the week, working mostly in silence. Aside from the cordial good morning greeting, we don’t say much to each other.

I don’t know what’s going on. Despite not having any actual conversations, we’re . . . connected in some way. At times, it’s like he can’t keep his eyes off me and at other times, you can’t get him to look at me. Then, when he asks for the diameter tape, his fingers graze mine, lingering longer than is necessary.

Saturday can’t come fast enough.

I insisted I’ll take a cab, but Sawyer just hung up after telling me Asher will be picking me up.

Now, I’m in my living room biting my nails and acting like I’m being fetched for my wedding.

When Asher arrives, it only makes sense to invite him into the apartment. He hasn’t seen where I live.

“Hi,” I say like an idiot when I open the door.

“Hi. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” I don’t feel like celebrating my birthday. It hasn’t been much of a life so far. “Do you want to come in for a minute? I can show you my place.” My nerves are working overtime.

Asher smiles, but his gaze is watchful. I thought I would give anything in this world to go back and change the past. To do something, anything, that guaranteed that it was me he ended up with. But it makes so much sense that he should be with Sawyer that I can no longer wish for such things.

“Sure,” he says.

I step aside to let him in. “It isn’t much,” I say, spreading my hands out around the small combination kitchen, dining and living area. “This is about it. With one bedroom and one bathroom and a small balcony. Do you want to see?”

His eyes don’t leave my face. “Yes.”

I lead the way to the balcony. “This is it.”

---