Chapter 40
“Hands out of your mouth, please,” I quietly said, tugging the toddler’s fingers from his face. He giggled and reached out for one of the passing students in the hallway as everything in me swam with absolute horrifying anticipation.
I wondered how much Asher actually knew.
How much the police had told him that night, because if they told him nearly everything, this probably wouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it was going to be if they hadn’t.
Which allowed a swirl of hope to rise in my heart.
Except it would still be a surprise… It had been a fucking surprise to me. One I’d discovered after moving here.
“Xander, hands out. I need to wash the cheesy sticky mess from your fingers,” I stated again, holding tightly to the squirming two-year-old. The bell had already rung for the final period of the day, which was both relieving and terrifying.
Rumors were already going around about Asher being a guest lecturer in my classroom, and I was hoping he’d end up so swamped with questions from others, I could slip out at the end of the day without him stopping me.
Without him confronting me until we could have a private moment for me to explain the news to him that I’d tried to tell him earlier.
I paused in front of my classroom door, hearing a light chuckle from the students, and then Asher resumed speaking. As quietly as I could, holding a two-year-old boy who didn’t know the definition of quiet, I cracked open the door and shrugged his diaper bag higher up my shoulder.
“Music!” Xander shouted the moment that I swung the door open. He knew my classroom, knew that there were fun instruments and things to bang that made noise, and I should’ve expected him to shout.
“Look who it is!” one of my students exclaimed with a grin as my gaze slowly drifted to Asher.
Not a single muscle of his twitched, with his gaze locked onto the little boy who shoved against my body, begging to get down.
Asher’s eyes widened, nearly bugging out of his head as I swallowed and bent down.
Trying to not make it a big deal that there was a little, dark-headed, two-year-old who, if doing the exact math, would’ve been conceived on the very horrible day I so desperately tried to forget.
A little boy who had the exact same eyes and dimples as his dad. A little boy who went running as quickly as his little legs could carry him to the student who had yelled in the first place. Xander jumped from student to student, and Asher’s eyes remained locked on the little boy.
Brian grinned widely and scooped Xander up. The toddler scrunched his fingers in excitement. “BB!” he squealed, and Brian laughed.
“Hey, bud,” he said, and I quickly hustled over to my desk. Mrs. Wallace smiled as I plopped the diaper bag down beside the base of the whiteboard and my purse on top of it.
“What happened at his daycare?” she whispered.
“Power’s out,” I replied and looked back at Asher.
He wasn’t moving, other than his eyes that were stuck on the adventurous toddler. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and I could see the wheels working overtime in his mind. Doing the math, calculating if it was possible.
And it was.
Danny had ripped out my IUD that night, and I guess that made me fertile. But for whatever reason, Asher’s sperm had made it to the egg and not Danny’s.
Suddenly, Asher whipped his head to me, and he stood up. Swinging his leg over the chair, he stalked directly toward me. I shook my head, silently begging for him to not do this now. Not in front of everyone. He could ask me later, not when Xander was here too.
Asher stopped in front of me and tipped his head. “Who’s that?”
I stared at him, every breath I took in shaking as I bit back more tears. “Xander,” I quietly stated.
He watched me for a moment and then glanced back at the toddler. The room hushed as he looked at the kid and then slowly moved even closer. He pushed past Mrs. Wallace and stared down at me.
“Is he…yours?” Asher asked, his voice low, then he inhaled deeply, trying to remain in control.
I nodded once. “Yes.”
“How old is he?”
“Two. A little older than two,” I replied, barely louder than a whisper.
“Cosette,” he stated.
Resounding gasps from my students swirled around the room. Even Xander sensed the tension rising. The haze of questions swimming, the iciness that was cracking throughout the room.
“I thought…” he mumbled and glanced over his shoulder again.
I shakily stood up from my chair and closed the distance between us; this wasn’t something anyone else needed to hear.
“Danny ripped it out that night, Asher,” I whispered into his ear, and he swung his gaze back to mine. Unfiltered rage tore through him, an anger that frightened me, and I stumbled a step back instinctively.
His chest expanded, and he leaned toward my ear. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, anger sliding across with his words, but I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me, at what Danny did that night, or something else entirely.
And then he stood up straight and glanced back at the boy. He studied the toddler for a moment as Xander stuffed a thumb into his mouth, and the rage in Asher’s face morphed into an almost devastating grief.
“But he doesn’t look like Danny,” Asher suddenly stated, loud enough I knew everyone else heard, and pointed at Xander.
“He has dark hair and brown eyes. He’s not blond, Cosette.
I know you’re not blonde, and you have hazel eyes, while Danny has green.
So, tell me how he has brown eyes and dark, nearly black hair instead. ”
I blinked rapidly and shrank against the whiteboard.
“Cosette, I’m not a fucking idiot,” he hissed sharply.
Another round of gasps slid amongst my students, and soft whispers rose to my ears.
“I know that,” I muttered.
“Then tell me, because right now, what’s going through my head…” He snarled, rage flashing with confusion, and shock twisted his face into something of a haunted ghost.
I sucked in my bottom lip and looked at my son. “This is what I tried to tell you… I didn’t even know when I left, and then after the lawyer…” Hot tears slid down my cheeks, and the rage in his eyes floated away. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m not saying that. I know it wasn’t,” he replied quietly.
A snicker drifted around the room. “Miss Cosi, we know you’ve been through high school, so we know you know how babies are made.
It was definitely your fault,” Carter shouted with a laugh.
He was one of the few students who didn’t actually want to be here, but was forced to for the credit he needed to graduate.
The tears spilled harder, faster as Asher kept his pained gaze locked onto mine.
“That was rude, Carter,” Amy hissed, whipping around from the front seat.
“We’re all thinking it. I mean, he’s a cute kid, and you’re an adult, but you can’t just go around saying it wasn’t your fault when you chose to spread your legs.” He laughed again, and Asher suddenly whipped around.
“You better shut that fucking mouth of yours before—”
“Don’t,” I interjected and placed a shaking hand against his forearm, snapping him out of this strange rage-filled state. “It’s not worth it,” I added as Asher slowly faced me again.
The whispers from my students were no longer as quiet as before. I could make out snippets of what they were saying, murmurs and questions about Asher’s relationship to me. Especially after that outburst.
“You aren’t supposed to say that word in school, by the way,” Amy quietly muttered, and Asher clenched his jaw but ignored her.
“Xander,” Asher began, and I let my hands fall to my sides.
“What about him?”
“Are you going to make me ask it?”
The room silenced again.
“Not here, please.” I whispered as quietly as I could.
“Then where? Because it’s been three years, Princess. Will it be another three before you admit that he’s mine?” Asher shot back, anguish swirled around in his bright, amber-speckled irises.
Mrs. Wallace literally choked. “What?” she gasped, unable to stop herself, but Asher wasn’t listening. He couldn’t care less who was around us, who was recording videos on their phones, and who heard what.
“He’s mine, isn’t he? Tell me,” Asher demanded.
“Yes,” I squeaked out, and he closed his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. Then he ripped them back open.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he snapped, and I made myself as small against the whiteboard as possible.
“Honestly?” I whispered.
“No shit, honestly. You think I’m asking this for you to lie to me?”
“Then I have no idea!” I cried out, throwing my hands in the air.
“Up until an hour ago when you showed up, I had no idea! The lawyer said I shouldn’t because it would put Xander in danger due to your fame.
Besides, I thought after three years you would’ve moved on to someone better.
That you would’ve started your own life, happy as a clam with someone who didn’t look like me! ”
“You think that’s what I want? Is someone else?”
“I don’t know! I ran away, so why would you not?”
“Because I know why you did! Because you had to! And no matter how hard I tried, the mere thought of fucking someone else or even remotely seeing another girl at one of those lame ass parties made me absolutely sick.” He threw his hands in the air and shook his head.
“You had all this time to find someone who isn’t as ruined and messed up as I am. Who could actually love you the way you want,” I finished, the tears resuming. They cascaded down my cheeks as he clenched his jaw.
Asher stared at me, the very oxygen in this room unmoving while he studied me. “What are you saying? That you didn’t tell me because you thought it would, what? Ruin my life?” His voice cracked, that pain back in his eyes.
“No. The lawyer said Xander could be used as a weapon against you. And I just—” I coughed, choking on the tears. “I just wanted to protect Xander. And myself. And you. But mostly, I wanted to give you a chance at a life without someone as screwed up as me.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. “You could’ve given me a fucking choice at least.”
The room was blurry. His back was all that I saw as I pleaded with him one more time. “I didn’t know until after I’d left.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry, I get it.”
“Asher,” I began, desperate to tell him that wasn’t it at all.
“Let me know when I can see my kid,” he grumbled and stormed out of the classroom before I had a chance to say anything more. I gripped the edge of my desk, my entire body shaking as I stared after him.
My heart ripped in two. I knew he was angry, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of me, directed at me, or because of something that happened to me.
Or all of that. And I wasn’t sure if he was overreacting because of that shock and anger or not.
I knew he was surprised by the bomb that he had a kid, but this seemed more than just that.
It seemed like he was circling the drain of grief, as if he were mourning loss, but not of someone, of time.
“I can hear it again,” I whispered, crying out for him.
But he was already gone as the strings played in my mind, the horns joining with a melancholy tune, full of anguish and pain.
The heartache shifted to rage as I glared after him.
He should’ve stayed gone. The not knowing, the silence, the overwhelming monotony was better than this. Better than this strange feeling of déjà vu that crept over me.
Like once before, as I’d shut him out and ran away, down an elevator.
But there was something else lingering behind his unusual and out-of-character explosion.
Like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. Especially with that apology before diving into the anger-fueled argument that left me very confused.
And I hoped, beyond hope, that he was only befuddled and overwhelmed. That at some point, he would see that he was once again exactly what I needed to start that music again.
“Miss Cosi?” a voice cracked, snapping through my pain-filled heart, and I quickly wiped away the tears as Xander burst out crying.