Chapter Twelve
Asher
Going to see her was taking a big risk. She made it pretty clear to me the night before that she didn't have any desire to continue seeing me while she was still in town. There was a part of me that understood her hesitation, a part of me that respected it. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable and I didn't want to push her. But I did want to hold her and be near her. She seemed to only be pieces of herself and I wanted to put her back together. I wanted to fix her. Although, it was difficult knowing that I was the reason she was broken in the first place.
At the park, in the gazebo, we'd shared our demons. I'd admitted how sorry I was for the way I reacted to the pregnancy and she'd admitted keeping from me that there were two babies. Forgiving her of that was simple. It wasn't even necessary. She didn't need my forgiveness because she did nothing wrong. I pushed her away and gave her no reason to seek me out to tell me anything.
She also forgave me and that was more than I deserved. And even though she said the words and I felt she meant them, something was still off. Going to her, I was risking her finally telling me to leave her alone. But I had no other choice. Until she looked me in the eye and told me to go, I was going to try to be near her.
I rang the doorbell of her father's house and tried not to smile knowing how much it irritated her. I heard her voice from beyond the door, yelling loudly.
"Asher Carmichael, if I open this door and see you standing there I'm going to kill you." Her voice got louder as she came closer to the door. She swung the door open and I just shrugged my shoulders at her and pushed the flowers I had brought towards her. She eyed the flowers, but didn't reach for them. "Why must you ring my doorbell?" She asked, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes at me.
"Because I know it irritates you," I said simply, hoping she would remember how many times in the past I had rang that same doorbell. It was my signature move. She always knew it was me when it rang and I was hoping the nostalgia would soften her towards my unannounced visit. She eyed me for a moment and I could tell she was trying to hide a small smile. I motioned towards the flowers again. "These are for you." Again, she looked at them, but didn't take them from me.
"Asher, you don't need to buy me flowers."
"I know I don't need to, but I wanted to. I felt bad about the way our evening ended last night."
"I'm fine. I was just tired."
"I know you have a lot going on, but do you think I could at least come in for a little while?" She took a step backwards and opened the door wide, allowing me to come in. I handed her the flowers as I walked past her. "They're purple hyacinths, meant to represent remorse and apology."
"You don't have to apologize anymore, Asher. We've been through this already."
"Yes, but I don't think you've really forgiven me." I put my hand up in front of her when she opened her mouth to argue. "You're forgetting that I know you, Charlie. I know you better than anyone probably. I know you're still having a hard time letting everything go – understandably. I just want to be here and try to help you. That's all."
She looked a little nervous and that made me feel better. I didn't want her to be comfortable around me. I wanted her on edge. I wanted her unsure. Some part of me wanted her to be just as confused as I was. I wanted her to be conflicted with herself because in the end that meant I still had some chance to win her back.
"What can I help you with?"
"Don't you have to work?"
I walked past her into the living room that was looking bare. "I have some vacation time saved up. Also, I'm a partner. What's Phil gonna do? Fire me?"
"You shouldn't be spending your vacation time packing up your ex-girlfriend's father's house." She closed the door and moved around me to start working on some boxes, her back to me.
"You've never been just a girlfriend, Charlie." She stilled at my words and I saw shoulders sag a little as she exhaled, taking in my words.
"You can help me pack up the living room," she said quietly. Good. I grabbed a box and silently started putting Charles' things away, carefully packing them so nothing broke. We worked quietly but every once in a while I looked over at her, trying not to get caught sneaking glances. Since that first image of her at my office all those days ago, I was still surprised by my attraction to her. It never wavered. She was thin. She was sad. She was frail. But she was beautiful. Today she was simply wearing a pair of jeans and tee shirt, but she looked comfortable and that was alluring. She looked normal. She looked like she could be someone's wife, someone's everything, packing up their own house.
It was also hard to ignore her hair.
I would never, ever, deny my attraction to her hair. From day one it was my kryptonite. I was so glad to see it was still long, still fell around her, still caught in the wind when she turned her head. Today it was in a braid. It was practical. She packed boxes, moving around, bending and lifting, she didn't need hair in her way. But I wanted to pull the tie from her hair and run my hands through its silky lengths. The braid was not my favorite.
Charlie
After an hour of working in mostly silence and moving into the den, Asher ventured to ask me about my life outside of Willow Falls.
"So, tell me. What's waiting for you in New York?"
"Life," I answered quickly.
"Want to be a little more specific?" He probed.
"I have to be back soon for an art show," I supplied.
"You still do your art?"
"It's all I do." He nodded at me and I moved on to another box. This is exactly what I didn't want. I didn't want to spend time with him and I didn't want to act normal around him. I was holding on to the one piece of information that made me remember why I shouldn't want him. He was with someone else, Charlie. While you lost your babies, he was with someone else. I had to keep reminding myself. I had to find a way to make him leave. It was difficult to be near him, to feel him in the same room, and not gravitate towards him.
The night before, at his parents' house, I was sure I made the right decision. I left and I left with the intention of never seeing them again. Asher would tell his parents what happened, I got an apology from him, and I saw Reeve's beautiful family; it was time to move on, to let it all go.
But I should have known Asher wouldn't be that easy to get rid of. As soon as I heard to doorbell, I knew it was him. I had to fight the part of me, the sadistic part, that was glad he came.
"Is it still drawing? Or have you branched out and tried new things?"
"Mostly still just drawing. At least, that's where I spend most of my time."
"And you can make a good living in the big city? That's really impressive, Charlie. I'm proud of you."
I didn't dare tell him that even though I made decent money selling my drawings, my lifestyle was supported by David, or had been anyway. It was clear that when I got back to New York I was on my own.
"Yeah, I guess I'll have to look at buying my own place now that I have the money."
"You don't like the place you've got now?" He asked, innocently, just trying to make conversation. I stilled at his question, trying to find a sufficient answer.
"It's just not an option any longer," I stated coolly.
"Well," he said as he huffed out a breath and stood up from hunching over a box on the floor. I could see his shoulder muscles flexing underneath his tee shirt. "Let me know if you need a hand looking for a place, looking over contracts or whatever. Reeve would probably love to help you look too." His hands rested on his hips and he looked concerned. "We're here for you, Charlie."
And there they were, every day that week. Asher made his daily appearance, each time showing up with a flower that held a particular meaning. After a few days passed the kitchen island was a forest of flowers, all fragrant, all meant to convey something different, a message from Asher to me.
Forget Me Nots because he said he wanted me to always remember him.
Geraniums which were a symbol of true friendship.
Tall reeds of blue salvia tied together with twine, because "I'm always thinking of you," he said. The next day a bundle of red salvia because "You'll always be mine."
"Asher, you have to stop bringing these flowers." At first it was nice – comforting. The flowers representing friendship, flowers that let me know he thought about me. I could handle that. I couldn't, however, handle the flowers that held deeper meanings, flowers that were meant to make me feel things again. I stood at the island in the kitchen, breathing in the fragrance of all the different flowers, urging him to stop.