9. Sophia
9
SOPHIA
Seeing Asher in my mom’s house, sitting on the couch with one hand draped over the backrest, is surreal. As always, my mother has gone all out with the Christmas decorations. There are string lights and fresh wreaths on every window. A giant tree sits in the corner, adorned with all the ornaments we’ve purchased over the years. Asher almost looks out of place.
Unlike other days, he isn’t dressed in jeans and a pullover, but tonight he’s wearing a charcoal gray suit and a crisp white shirt. I wonder if, like his Patek Philippe wristwatch, which has been on his wrist since the dinner at Miss Tee’s, his suit is also borrowed as a part of some wardrobe test.
A gnawing worried sensation develops in the pit of my stomach every time I see Asher from a distance. The regal look on his face, the grace with which he carries himself. Even now, the way he tips his head and nods a thanks to Mom as she offers him a glass of eggnog. He’s controlled and classy, unlike most middle-class men, who are in a constant state of stress and panic, especially around the holidays.
Asher’s gaze meets mine, and the smile on his lips tips for a beat, making me nervous, but he regains composure so fast that I might have imagined the change in his expression.
“Do you know Sophia is going to play at the New Year’s Gala?” The pride in Mom’s voice distracts my wildly pacing heart. She doesn’t know Asher told me the news before it was publicly announced, and I’ve been unable to overlook the ominous cloud surrounding this happy news since that night.
“I can’t wait to hear her play.” Asher’s lips twitch into a mesmerizing smile, and as always, my insides flip at the sight of it.
I can’t shake this feeling in my gut that something is approaching that will shatter me into pieces, and I might not be able to piece everything back together.
“All okay? You’ve been lost all night,” Asher says as I walk him to his car. His arm wraps around my waist, and even in his touch, I feel a whisper of hesitancy.
It’s as if whatever is lurking on the sides is making us step back in this relationship rather than move forward. I hear Asher let go of a deep breath, and he opens the door of his car. My throat chokes as he leaves without saying anything to calm my insecurities. But instead of sliding into the driver’s seat, he grabs a small box wrapped in red-and-green paper.
“I got you something for Christmas.” He turns the box in his hand, as if unsure how to give it to me, simply or through some grand gesture. I, on the other hand, can’t help my overflowing emotions and throw my arms around him. After a moment’s surprise, Asher wraps his arms around me.
“Thank you so much for not leaving without a goodbye.” Before I can say more words that are probably nothing but remnants of my anxiety, I pull back. “Now, let me open it.”
He drops a box into my hands, but not before kissing my lips. “You’re gonna love it.”
“There’s my cocky, arrogant man.” I snort-giggle. How can this man turn my mood so fast is a mystery to me. “What the heck is this?” I tear through the exorbitant number of clear tape stripes.
“I don’t have much experience in wrapping gifts.”
“You don’t say.” I bite back my smile at the thought of Asher fighting with tape to hide whatever he bought for me. But when I finally tear the paper aside, my gasp echoes in the cold night. “Asher! It’s beautiful.” The wooden piano figurine, painted in black, with real keys and shiny metal strings, has my name written over the lid.
“A… colleague of mine does woodwork as a hobby. I asked him to make me this.”
The handmade piano, wrapped in poor packaging, is a dream gift, especially when I’m struggling with the uncertainty of Asher’s financial situation.
“This is the best Christmas gift.” I can’t hold back the rising of my toes and placing a kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?” I loop my arms around his neck, my anxiety slowly slipping away.
“Yeah.” He grins. “I’m anxiously looking forward to dinner.”
The lights on our neighbor’s porch turn on, and I let go of Asher, but not before biting his earlobe and whispering, “I’m worth the wait, aren’t I?”
“God! You just made it so hard, woman.” At his teased words, my gaze slides to the zipper of his jeans and the noticeable bulge, but Asher tips my chin with one finger. “Don’t forget, I’ll be anxiously waiting.”
After throwing another grin toward me, he slides into his car and drives away.
The next day, my mom’s neighbor Patricia visits us with her newborn daughter in her arms. “I got some cookies.” She tips her head toward the bag dangling in her hand.
Patricia is almost my age, and two years back, she married her long-time boyfriend. We aren’t besties, but we’ve always been friendly. “Come in, Pat. And how’s our princess?”
“During the day, she’s an angel. It’s at night when she’s cranky. Hold her for me, please.” She puts the cute baby, wrapped in a pink blanket, into my arms.
“She’s beautiful.” I run my finger carefully over her cheeks, worried she’ll throw a crying fit. But this sweetie just looks back at me with almost the same curiosity as I have for her.
“You look good with one in your arms.”
My head jerks to Patricia, now seated comfortably on the couch and looking at me and her daughter. “I still got a lot of time.” Even though I say the words, I’m hit by a pang of longing, and Asher’s face swims before my eyes.
Soph! It’s too soon.
“How’s life?” I return the baby back to Pat before my brain starts to get more crazy ideas.
“Life’s quiet but good. Larry got a new job.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It is. He’s executive assistant to Ashcroft Miller, the heir to the Miller estate. It’s still new, so he’s nervous, but I’m sure he’s doing great. What’s that?” Pat’s eyes narrow as she stares at something behind me. I look over my shoulder and spot the miniature piano on the side table.
“Crap! I forgot to pack it.” I pick it up and hand it to Pat, who is definitely intrigued by my cute present. “I got it as a Christmas gift.”
“From whom?” She sounds more alarmed than surprised, and her question leaves me confused. She inspects the piano from all sides, as if she just found a stolen piece of her jewelry, and my hands itch to have it back.
“A friend.” I sigh in relief when Pat reluctantly returns my precious belonging.
“I don’t know what kind of coincidence this is… but I swear, Soph, Larry made exactly this for his boss as a Christmas present. Um… okay, not exactly, because that didn’t have your name engraved on top.” When her daughter starts to fuss, Pat tends to her, but after a beat she looks up. “You don’t happen to know Ashcroft Miller by any chance, right?”
My heart pounds as I shake my head.
Asher. Ashcroft Miller. Don’t they sound similar? My brain laughs derisively at me.
No. Two people can have similar names. Asher isn’t the richest man in St. Peppers. No way.
My stomach is in knots all during the ride from my mom’s place to my apartment. Anxiety balloons inside me, ready to invade every cell in my body. My legs tremble as I get off the bus and walk to my house. The lights of the living room are already on. Asher must have used the key hidden under the doormat. I walk through the wrought-iron gate, mentally repeating questions to ask Asher about his job. But I lose track of my thoughts when the door to my house is ripped open before I can ring the bell.
Asher greets me in a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. There’s a kitchen towel over his one shoulder and a streak of… flour, or maybe sugar, on his cheek.
“I saw you through the window.” The excitement on his face makes me forget everything else.
“What’s happening?” I peek inside.
“I made dinner for us.” My heart clenches at his proud tone.
Oh, Ash. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted from my chest. This is my Asher.
He holds my hand and leads me to the dining table. There’s a simple white candle lit and fresh flowers in the vase. He drags over a chair for me and pours some champagne.
“I feel like a queen.”
“Hold on to that thought until you see the food, babe.” Asher places a swift kiss on my lips and dashes to the kitchen.
I’m still smiling when he returns with two plates and slides one toward me. I look between him and the food for another second before I fall into a fit a laughter.
“You don’t have to eat it.” The uncharacteristic red coating the tips of Asher’s ears makes me laugh harder. “It’s supposed to be a pancake,” he explains.
“I can see that. But why is it so black?”
Instead of replying, Asher gets down on one knee. “I can’t impress you with my cooking. That’s a given now.”
“What inspired you to put your cooking abilities to the test tonight?”
“Since I’ve met you, you’ve been the inspiration for all my thoughts, Soph. You and no one else.” My heart skips a beat when he grazes my cheek. “Let’s get some takeout.” Asher’s voice is hoarse as he makes the butterflies crazy inside my stomach.
“I want to eat what you made.” I can’t pull my gaze away from him and notice the way his eyes widen in surprise.
“It’s not worth eating, firecracker.”
“My boyfriend doesn’t do anything half-assed, so I know he’s spent a hell of a lot of time arranging all this for me.” I wave my hand around us. “I’m not going to let his hard work go to waste.”
“Your sweetness will someday kill me.” Asher groans as I cut a piece of the charred pancake and put it into my mouth. He cringes, making me smile some more.
“It’s… good, actually. I mean, the batter is good.”
“Yeah, the measuring part was easy. It was the cooking part that turned out to be the bane of my existence.” He shakes his head before glaring at the burnt food, as if it was the pancake’s fault that it didn’t jump off the flame at the right moment.
“Come with me.” My steps come to a halt at the kitchen doorway. “Okay, I’ll show you tomorrow how you clean the kitchen as you go, because believe me, entering a messy kitchen is almost as bad as sleeping hungry.”
I quickly make space on the counter while intermittently looking at Asher, who’s preparing the batter with a precision of a heart surgeon performing a procedure. When I turn the flame on, he starts to back away, but I pull him closer. “You are not running away, mister. I’ll show you one, and then you’ll make the rest.”
And when Asher places the last pancake onto the table, any thoughts I had of him being anything other than my wonderful boyfriend are gone.