“I think that’s it,” Asher says from behind me, setting down the box he carried up the steps onto the kitchen island.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” I ask, closing the short distance between us and joining him in the kitchen.
“And nervous,” Asher quietly admits, his gaze remaining on the plates he’s begun unwrapping one by one and neatly placing in the kitchen cabinet above the stove. His new job at the research lab starts tomorrow and despite my insistence that everyone on his team is going to love him, the first-day jitters are getting to him.
Moving in together is a big step for both of us.
But this chapter feels like a much larger one for Asher.
Even without winning the prize money, our online popularity garnered a lot of attention from potential investors who expressed interest in funding his Own Voices in STEM program.
After weighing his options and a lot of intense back-and-forth on Asher’s part, his program ultimately found its home with the University of Chicago’s Knapp Center for Biomedical Discovery, where he will serve as the newest project manager. I could not be prouder. His drive and work ethic are some of the most impressive things about him, but it’s his devotion to the training and empowerment of future LGBTQIA+ biomedical engineers that leaves me standing in awe of the man before me.
“You’re going to change the world, Asher Bennett,” I whisperagainst his temple after pulling him away from the box he was unpacking.
“How can you be so sure?” he asks, dipping his hands into my back pockets, pulling me even closer.
“Because I love you, obviously. I know these things,” I say matter-of-factly, letting my lips brush against his hair. Those three little words still make me giddy. Even more so when they’re accompanied by a blushing Asher Bennett. “Besides, you’ve already changed mine, so you’re already winning.”
He laughs, but it’s the truth.
Meeting him in the airport opened my eyes to a life I hadn’t even realized I was missing out on.
What started off as a mutually beneficial ruse turned into one of the most significant life lessons for me. After the competition, I was quickly able to get back in the cockpit. The social media frenzy that followed us was more than enough proof that I had in fact taken the necessary steps toward a healthier work-life balance. Diving headfirst into work was no way to live. At least not in a healthy way, and it’s definitely not how I want to live anymore.
Mark was right, as always. Thereismore to life than work. He and Amelia kept me company, and sane, until Asher got here, and I couldn’t help but notice they seemed lighter, happier, than the last time I saw them. They’ll tell me when they’re ready, whatever it is.
I’ve also started giving flying lessons as a way to share my passion for aviation with others. Asher doesn’t know it yet, but we’ve got a day trip up to Madison this weekend. Elise said the kids have been incessantly asking when they were going to see us again, so we figured now would be as good a time as any torent a twin engine and fly up to see everyone before Asher’s schedule gets too complicated. It’s the benefit of being this close, something I will never take for granted again.
Asher pushes a box of carefully wrapped glassware in my direction, which I make quick work of unpacking and putting away. Standing side by side in our kitchen, amid a growing pile of discarded packing tape and Bubble Wrap, it’s easy to envision what this life could look like.
A life spent loving him and being loved by him.
But an unexpected knock at the door pulls me away from my thoughts.
We shrug at each other, and Asher plants a kiss on my jaw before sauntering off to the front door to see who it is. He returns with a grin on his face and a welcome sight—
Jo.
“Hi, friends,” she says quietly, a nervous edge to her voice. She’s holding a potted money tree in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. We haven’t seen each other since I stormed off the show’s set, but I’ve never blamed Jo for anything. Not for a second.
We go in for a hug awkwardly, her hands still full, but she wraps her arms around my waist regardless, seemingly relaxing like she’s been unsure of how her reunion with us would go.
“Your sister gave me your address,” she says, handing the gifts to Asher and hopping up on the kitchen counter, making herself right at home.
Asher laughs. “Of course she did.”
I’m going to need to have a conversation with Elise about boundaries. But in this case, I am deeply appreciative of how much she takes care of me.
Even if she goes about it in the most interesting of ways.
“While I’d love to chitchat…we want you back,” Jo blurts out. Right to business in typical Jo Bishop fashion.
Asher and I exchange confused looks.
“I’m not following.” I move from where I was leaning against the kitchen island to stand next to Asher.
Jo reaches over the counter to snag the bottle of champagne she’d brought and begins opening it. “The show,” she says. “We want the two of you back. For real this time.”