Page 87 of From Asher, With Love

“We’re safe here,” he reassures me, speaking against my forehead.

My eyes are still closed when his mouth leaves my skin. I feel his absence immediately and open my eyes.

He leaves me standing in the entryway and moves to the kitchen, where he finds my electric kettle on the counter, fills it with water, and sets it back on its base before flipping the switch.

“Do you think they’ve arrested Cyrus by now?” I ask, worrying my lip.

“Hopefully.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He shoves it off his forehead, the muscles in his arms flexing below his rolled sleeves. “He was caught on camera using my keycard in the elevator, so it should be an open and shut case. He doesn’t have much of a defense.”

“But he’d have the money to pay for his bail if they set one, right?”

Asher hangs his head low as he grips onto the edge of the counter. “Probably.”

When he lifts his head, his brow is furrowed, but his eyes are soft. We don’t speak another word, letting the truth sink between us. Cyrus clearly has it out for Asher, and my gut twists, telling me this isn’t the worst of his retribution. While being questioned by the police, Asher filled them in on the day Cyrus had shown up at his office, threatening to ruin his reputation. He’d said the same four words to him that he’d left on the note. That’s how Asher suspected him almost right away.

I wanted to ask Asher why he didn’t tell me about his encounter with Cyrus the day it happened, but I was in no place to judge. I didn’t tell him about the day he overheard Julianna say something about me sleeping with Asher when I was on the phone with him. I was embarrassed for what Julianna said, and I didn’t think Cyrus would care. All these seemingly insignificant moments have turned into ones that clearly pushed Cyrus over the edge.

Asher pushes off the counter and turns around, searching for the supplies for tea.

Watching him move effortlessly in my apartment breaks the chill over my body. Seeing him here feels right. And despite the fear Cyrus has put in us tonight, I feel safe and at peace with Asher here, in my home. Suddenly, I’m blanketed in warmth.

I spent a decade holding anger and resentment toward him for leaving the way he did, but knowing now what he went through that night, I imagine myself in his shoes. A domino effect he couldn’t stop from happening. The fight with his mother that led to my father beating him that then led to him going home and finding his house engulfed in flames – his mother passed out inside it.

Asher’s trauma came all at once, crashing down on him in afew short hours, and he felt helpless. The only thing he could do was wave the white flag and leave. While I wonder the situation would have turned out if he had said goodbye that morning instead of leaving me a note, I know I would have convinced him to stay, and I know he wouldn’t have left.

Sometimes life forces you to make decisions. Even ugly ones.

I meet Asher in the kitchen and stand at the end of the island, watching as he removes two mugs from the cabinet. He sets them on the counter and pauses, staring down at them before swinging his gaze up to mine. He sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cyrus.”

“Don’t.” I blink back the emotion. “You don’t have to be sorry. Maybe I wasn’t clear in letting him down and telling him I was working with you instead. Do you think he knows we’re about to go under contract with a new space? Maybe that’s why he’s upset.”

“Maybe.” Asher shrugs. “You did nothing wrong, Charleigh.”

Asher’s reassurance does little to calm my nerves. I know he’s right, but clearly the truth doesn’t matter when it comes to Cyrus. Three weeks ago, Asher found the perfect location for my second flower shop, well under my budget. I was thankful he’d found a gem after losing out on the first he’d shown me, and he was thankful I’d placed my trust in him again. We’re set to close in a couple weeks.

I give him a small smile, convincing myself to believe Asher’s words. The kettle beeps as the water inside boils. Asher blinks and returns to his task of making tea. He opens the silverware drawer and reaches for the spoons, but his hand stops, hovering over them. My heart drops into my stomach, remembering what sits inside.

I press my hand to my chest and take a tentative step closer, standing on the other side of the drawer. I look down with watery eyes, a tear splashing on the handle of one of the spoons.

When I look up at Asher, he’s still staring into the drawer as he slides his note out from under the spoons.

“Asher, I…” I start, but the words get caught. I swallow, and I don’t know why I’m nervous.

I don’t take another breath until he finally swings his gaze up to me. “You kept this?”

My heart beats against flesh and bone, and I count the beats. “Yes,” I whisper. “It was the last and only proof I had left of us.”

“Why is it in your silverware drawer?” he asks, his brow furrowed, but I see the heartache in his eyes.

“I dug it out of my closet after I ran into you at Cyrus’s office. I don’t know why I pulled it out. I was going to read it but couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“So, you haven’t read it since putting it in here?” His eyes fall to the drawer before lifting again.

The golden flecks sparkle, and I’ve never felt more vulnerable than I do now. Asher is aware of the words inked into the paper. He was the one who wrote them. But there’s something sacred about it. Like once he’d given me the words, they were only meant to be mine. Now I feel cut open and exposed, my darkest thoughts and feelings dug up from the grave where they’ve been buried for years.

“No,” I confess. “I haven’t read it since the first time. I remember how it felt to read it then, and I wasn’t sure if I’d feel the same way. It’s been ten years, but I don’t think time matters when it comes to us.”

He clears his throat. “It doesn’t.” A light smile plays on his mouth. “You know… it’s funny.” He toys with the open end of the note as if he’s deciding whether to open it all the way or not.

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