11. Charleigh
ELEVEN
CHARLEIGH
I should have taken Asher up on his offer to head back to my apartment to change my shoes. Fuck, I even regret not taking him up on his offer to buy me a new pair, because now we’re finally standing in front of the first location, and all I can think about is how badly my feet hurt.
“So, this is it.” Asher waves his arm out to the empty office space in front of us. “What do you think of the outside?”
I don’t move any closer to Asher or the building, afraid that if I do, my toes will officially go numb. In fact, that might not be a terrible idea with how much pain I’m in. I turn my head to get a better view of the surrounding area. It’s in a nice part of Manhattan, only a few blocks from Asher’s office. I’m thankful he didn’t argue when I asked him if we could take a taxi on the way over.
“I love it. How much is this one listed at?”
“It’s right at the top of your budget. There’s a bit of wiggle room for negotiating.”
“Oh, that’s great, then.” I nod, pleased to finally find a place that could be a possibility. “I’ll still need to see what it looks like on the inside, though. ”
“Of course,” he says, his mouth pressed into a thin line. His eyes narrow when he looks down at my feet. I can tell he knows I’m uncomfortable, but he’s given up the fight. Instead, he walks up to the door, punching the code in to unlock it.
Once he has it open, I finally decide to move, bracing myself for the pain I know will inevitably come. Asher’s back is to me, so I take the opportunity to limp to the door, putting the least amount of pressure on my toes that I can. I nearly make it to the front door, then he turns around, catching me limping.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I tell him, pointing to the entrance. “I’m following you inside.”
“No, you’re not.” He sighs, pulling the door closed. “You can’t go inside when you’re clearly in this much pain.”
“Yes, I can.” I grit my teeth, blowing hot air through my nose. Today has been one disaster after another. It was already bad enough that I woke up late and struggled to find a cab. I figured if I bought Asher a coffee it could make up for the fact that I was nearly an hour late, but I was wrong.
Asher’s attitude threw me over the edge, and to get back at him, I tried to punish him by using the stairs. My plan backfired. Normally, I love wearing these shoes. They’re some of the most comfortable ones I own, but they aren’t exactly the best shoes to wear when deciding to walk down fifty-two flights of stairs. It wasn’t all a terrible idea. Feeling Asher’s arms on my body lit a fire inside me, sparking and electrifying pieces of myself that had been dead for so long. It was a familiar feeling, yet new in a way. He was stronger and more direct than he used to be. His muscles contracted beneath my fingers as I held on to him with every step he took. All I could do was focus on his large hands commanding my body, keeping me in place. I spent the entire trip down worried he’d discover how wet I’d become just from his touch, secretly wishing he would .
At first, I didn’t understand why he decided to carry me the rest of the way, but I’m thankful because I don’t think I would have been able to make it—especially now we’re standing in front of this office that’s for sale.
I wish I was carrying a spare pair of flats inside my purse right about now. Instead, I’m standing on the sidewalk, seriously contemplating the idea of walking barefoot.
“You’re lying to me again, Charleigh.” Asher is now standing directly in front of me.
I tip my chin up, meeting his gaze, and the longer I stare into his eyes, the more pain I’m in. “Fine.” I sigh, my shoulders falling. “My feet hurt so fucking bad, I want to rip these shoes off and toss them into the nearest dumpster.”
“I tried to tell you.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to throw another wrench in your schedule and make you more frustrated with me. I already made us late, and stopping by my place to change would have dragged this on even longer than necessary. It’s almost lunchtime.” I didn’t realize it until know, but my chest aches with my confession. It’s as if I am afraid to give Asher another reason to be annoyed with me. In reality, I shouldn’t care.
I expect Asher to launch into another speech about how I’m right and this is another problem that will delay his plans. Instead, he quietly steps around me, walking back toward his car.
His driver immediately opens the back door, holding it open.
“What are you doing?” I don’t follow him. My feet are on fire, nearing the brink of becoming numb.
Asher moves to stand on the opposite side from his driver, waiting for me to slip into his car. “We’re going to your apartment so you can change, then we’ll come back here to look inside. ”
Apprehensive, I glance over my shoulder. I truly wanted to look at this place. I already feel the spark inside me at the thought of its possibilities, but it’ll just have to wait.
With my shoulders down and my feet on fire, I walk toward Asher’s car.
“Thank you.” I sigh with relief and slide along the leather. Once inside, I immediately want to cry with relief. Asher slides in, too, so he’s sitting beside me. I tell Asher’s driver my address, then close my eyes and rest my head back. Although I can’t see him, I feel Asher’s gaze on me.
“You look better already, and you haven’t even changed yet.”
I crack my eyes open and roll my head against the headrest. “Sometimes I wonder why I even wear these stupid things. I’m my own boss, so, technically, I can wear anything I want.”
Asher hums, and the heat between my thighs expands. His hand rests on his thigh, but his pinky finger grazes my bare leg. “Why do you, then?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh, closing my eyes again, his touch magnifying with every second. “My mother used to make me wear them all time. At least to all the important parties and functions my father used to pull, when I needed to impress corporate cronies or politicians. I think the habit must have stuck.”
“I’m surprised. You never wore them much at school. Unless you were wearing a dress.”
I open my eyes again and turn toward Asher.
I smile, feeling my cheeks warm. “I didn’t know you paid that much attention to what I wore.”
Asher’s eyes stare into mine, absorbing our conversation. He clears his throat, then adjusts himself in his seat. “Yeah, well that was a long time ago.” He turns to look out his window and rests his arm on the inside of his door. The sleeve of his jacket slides back along his wrist, displaying his Cartier watch. I’m still struggling to comprehend how Asher now has the money to be able to afford a watch such as that one. Or a driver like the reflection of the one I see in the rear-view mirror. He keeps his focus on the road while I take in the car I’m sitting in.
All black leather. It smells brand new as if not a single mile has been driven in it.
When I was younger, I was surrounded by the same lifestyle Asher has now: designer clothes, fancy watches, luxury cars. My father required only the most expensive items out there, considering them essential to living an upper-class life, but I knew better. Asher’s flashy lifestyle doesn’t faze me.
“Are we almost there?” he asks me.
“Yeah. It’s about another block.”
Nerves knot together inside my stomach. The sudden realization that Asher will be standing in my apartment in a mere five minutes hits me like a barreling train to the chest.
The car pulls up to the curb, and Asher waits until his driver opens the door before he steps out. I follow him and lead him into my building. I walk slowly through up the small staircase before unlocking the front door, carrying my heels with me by the tips of my fingers. Once inside the main common area, I lead Asher up the one flight of stairs until we’re standing in front of my door.
“I think my toes have officially gone numb.” I laugh, although the feeling concerns me. Is it normal for your toes to turn purple? Do I need to see a doctor?
I glance over my shoulder as I twist the key in my lock.
When I glance at Asher, he’s stifling a laugh.
“Go ahead,” I tell him, my shoulders sagging with defeat. This day is an absolute dumpster fire. “Get it out. I know you want to.”
“No,” he says, grinning. “It’s fine. I actually feel bad for you.”
“No, you don’t.” I roll my eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
His face falls, and the humor that once lingered in there is gone. “Why would I enjoy watching you suffer, Charleigh?”
I nod silently, realizing the deeper meaning behind my accusation.
When I push through the front door, I hold it open for him, but he doesn’t immediately follow.
“Are you coming in?” I ask.
“Um, yeah.” He blinks, slowly taking one step inside. He only goes as far enough to shut the door behind him., though, as his gaze wanders around my apartment.
My heart pounds in my chest. I’ve thought about Asher over the years, but I never expected to see him standing in my home. Especially not when wearing a designer suit and silky black tie.
There isn’t much to it aside from the essentials: a sofa, a television, a bed, flowers. Flowers in every corner I could fit them.
“I’ll be right back.” I clear my throat and head to my bedroom, where I trade my dress for a blue T-shirt and my favorite pair of black jeans. I throw my long brown hair into a messy bun, then smooth on another coat of lip gloss.
When I walk back out to my living room, I find Asher standing by the mantle above my fireplace. He grabs the picture frame sitting between two bouquets of lilies.
“Is this the same flower?” he asks, studying the pressed mountain laurel beneath the glass. “How?”
The air is knocked from my lungs. I slowly step closer to him, my feet rolling with each step. “No, it isn’t. You know what happened to the original one.”
“The fire.” Those two words fall from his mouth like an echo of a whisper. His voice hangs in the air, heavy and weighted .
“After you left for California, I picked another one, dried it, then decided to frame it.” I move closer to him, taking the frame from his hands. I stare at the flower, counting the differences between this one and the one Asher gave to me the night we’d first slept together. The night everything started to fall apart.
With a shaking hand, I place the frame back on the mantle. When I turn back to look at him, he’s stepped closer to me, taking in my new outfit.
“Are you ready to head back?” he whispers. He’s now standing close enough to lift a hand and touch my face. He could lean forward and kiss me if he wanted.
My cheeks warm and my neck prickles at the thought of his touch, his taste. Admittedly, I want him to make a move. Mostly, I want him to touch me to be sure that what I felt for Asher all those years ago remains—or doesn’t. I can’t decipher my thoughts when he’s standing this close to me. It's as if my mind has been clouded by a thick, dense fog. The uncertainty is both terrifying yet thrilling.
My eyes fall to his mouth, and I instinctively sweep my tongue across my bottom lip. “Yeah.”
“How are your feet feeling?” He somehow steps even closer, the tips of his shoes now touching mine.
I look down at my pair of flats. “Much better.” But I’m forced to look back up at Asher when he hooks two of his fingers under my chin, pulling up to meet his gaze.
“Good.”
He’s leaning down, his lips close enough to kiss mine. His hot breath dances across my mouth, and his eyes scan my face. I inhale, breathing him in. His scent blends with the lilies sitting on my mantle.
“Asher…” I whisper, not sure what his intentions are. It’s been years since I’ve felt him this close, this way. It’s all strange, ye t familiar at the same time. I close my eyes and breathe him in, remembering the way his touch used to ignite my skin.
It still has the same power, too, and despite the anger still simmering with the way he left ten years ago, my feelings are too strong to ignore.
Your heart and your mind simply don’t forget being in love.
“Asher,” I start, emotion getting caught in my throat. It’s been too long since I’ve allowed myself to truly remember what the fire took from me, and more importantly, what the fire took from Asher. “I never had the chance to tell you how sorry?—”
His hand moves to the button of my jeans. He runs his thumb over the small metal circle, dipping the tips of his fingers on the inside of the waist of my jeans.
“I’m s—” I try again.
“Don’t.” His voice is strong, vibrating through his fingers. His eyes stay on me with a laser-like focus. He runs his thumb along my bottom lip as if he’s matching what he’s feeling to his memory.
I gasp. This singular touch is enough to throw me over the edge, my hums and shivers tingling their way down the length of my legs. I consider leaning forward and placing my lips against his. I’m nervous about what it would mean if I allowed him to kiss me. I shouldn’t want Asher at all. He hurt me in the worst possible way. It’s taken me ten years to recover from the wounds he inflicted.
Ever since that night I saw him at the bar, he’s been playing the hot-and-cold game with me. There are moments, like the one where he stopped by my shop, that have me reconsidering that Asher might not hate me as much as I believe he does. Then there are moments like this morning, where I know I got under his skin. His harsh, annoyed tone and flexed jaw were enough proof that I bothered him. Despite his constant mood swings, I have an insatiable need to have him closer. I’m ready to feel him, taste him again. My thighs instinctively tighten at the thought of what it would feel like to have his cock inside me again.
His eyes roam over me, searching for answers. There’s a battle raging inside him. He dips his face closer, his mouth barely brushing mine.
“Charleigh, I?—”
“What?” I whisper, the word squeezing from my chest.
“I don’t know,” he whispers back, his fingers slipping deeper, pulling me closer. “I can’t explain it.”
I want to laugh, but I don’t. I’ve heard this before. It’s as if I’m living in a dream state. Déjà vu.
History repeating itself.
“You still aren’t the best with words, huh?” My smile brushes his mouth, anticipation bubbling inside me. I roll onto the balls of my feet, standing on my toes. He pops the button of my jeans and slips his hand into the front of my lace thong. I hold my breath, gasping at his touch near my aching clit.
I close my eyes, ready for him to close the last remaining gap between our mouths… but disappointment washes over me when the sound of his breath forces me to open my eyes. He sighs, his eyebrows knitting as he pulls away from me. He drops his thumb from my mouth, pulls his hand out from my jeans, and steps back. He runs a quick hand down the length of his face, blowing out a heavy breath.
Cold air fills the empty space settled between us, and when I try to catch Asher’s eyes, he avoids looking in my direction. He quickly moves past me, headed for the front door.
“We should go,” he mutters over his shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with me.
My cheeks bloom with heat and embarrassment. I quickly rebutton my jeans and stand in front of my fireplace, confused. Two seconds ago, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me. Every nerve in my body reacted to him, as if Asher had brought them back to life after ten years. I wring my hands, forcing the tension in my body to unfurl.
I open my mouth, ready to stop him from walking out the door, ready to demand he finish the sentence he started. Instead, I grab my phone and purse, and I follow him down the hall.
Asher and I don’t speak another word to each other until we’re stepping out of his car again. We’re now in a different neighborhood than before, farther from the place Asher took me to before we headed to my apartment.
“I thought we were going back to the place we were at earlier?” I stand on the sidewalk, peering up at the sign above the front door.
Meme Celine’s French Patisserie
“This place is better.” Asher moves past me, heading straight for the front door.
I can’t help but scrunch my nose. Confusion settles in. The outside is nearly falling apart, paint is peeling off the brick exterior, and the windows are covered in dust. The door is painted a faded yellow, and the sign painted across it is practically illegible.
“I think I liked the last place better,” I tell him. “I’m not sure about this end of the district.”
Asher glances over his shoulder as he punches in the code to unlock the door. “There’s potential with this one. Trust me.”
“Fine.” I sigh, taking one more look at the outside before stepping in.
I follow Asher inside, stopping a few feet from the door. The space is quite a bit larger than my current shop, but every surface would need to be touched up. Other than an increase of square footage, I’m not sure this place would work. I’d probably end up putting more money into renovations than I would at the first location he showed me.
“What do you think?” He’s standing near the back, in front of a set of double doors.
“I don’t know.” I survey the room, examining every inch, trying to imagine my business here, but my mind draws a blank, deterred by the location.
Asher turns around, but his eyes still don’t meet mine. He hasn’t been able to truly look at me ever since we left my apartment. He looks past my shoulder at the empty wall, absentmindedly running his hand over the countertop.
“This space was once used as a bakery. There was a row of refrigerators over there.” He points to an empty space along the wall, then points toward the back. Metal swinging doors divide the storefront from what used to be the kitchen. “There’s ample space for you to work and arrange any orders or events you might have. You can easily replace the ovens with more storage or coolers.”
I press my lips together, absorbing Asher’s sudden change. This time it isn’t solely his mood. It’s in the way his body is tense, his stare cold. It’s as if he’s become a corporate robot, much like the version I saw the first time we ran into each other. Asher is in selling mode, completely shutting the rest of himself off from me, even the glimpses he gave me earlier today in the stairwell: carrying me over his shoulder, carrying on a conversation as easily as swimming through water, the near kiss in my apartment, his finger grazing my mouth… all of it has evaporated, and now we’re back to square one.
“I’m not completely against this place. I guess I could envision it. Maybe.” I frown, considering the possibilities. At this point, I’m willing to keep an open mind. “How much is it?”
“It’s only four hundred thousand over your budget.” Asher shrugs. He still won’t look in my direction, unwilling to cross the line he’s clearly drawn since leaving my apartment.
“What?” My mouth falls open as I stare at Asher, wide- eyed. I look around the space again, trying to understand how on earth this place could be priced as high as it is.
Sensing my tone, Asher finally looks at me, allowing his eyes to meet mine. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.” He’s straight-faced, not a single hint of coyness in his expression. “This place is perfect for your expansion.”
“In what way?” I ask, still shocked how he could even entertain showing me a place so far out of my budget.
“With a little updating, it’s a possibility.”
“You are such a hypocrite.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest.
“How am I a hypocrite? I promised I would show you places within reason. This one is within reason.” His eyes have transformed, sparking under the dull lights of the room.
“Four hundred thousand over my budget is within reason? You called out Cyrus for only sending me listings over my budget, and here you are doing the same thing.” I point at him, heat expanding across my chest. My throat suddenly feels dry, and I wish I had a glass of water. Although if I had a glass of water, it could be splashed across the front of Asher’s thousand-dollar black suit instead.
“First,” he starts, “I am not the same as Cyrus.” His voice is strained, the veins in his neck beginning to swell. His smooth cheeks flush red, and his forehead creases with his brewing anger. “Cyrus sends listings you have no chance of negotiating on with any seller. The prices are so far apart, there is no meeting in the middle.” Asher steps closer to me. He keeps his distance, but I can feel the heat radiating off his body. “Second, it’s four hundred thousand dollars, Charleigh. A drop in the bucket when it comes to New York. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal when it’s my money, Asher—when it’s my business.” I thumb my own chest .
“Four hundred thousand is a reasonable amount to begin negotiations,” Asher counters. “Cyrus is sending you listings at least that or more over your budget. Now, if you ask me, that’s more difficult to negotiate. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“That’s not the point.” I shake my head again, frustrated. “Four hundred thousand is still a high number. Even if the seller decides to budge a little in price, that changes my monthly payments quite a bit.”
“I don’t understand why it’s an issue.”
I laugh hysterically in disbelief, resting my hands on my hips. “Now that you have all the money in the world, nearly half a million dollars may not be an issue to you, but for me, how could it not be? I told you from the start that my budget was my biggest concern. I’m taking a leap of faith with this expansion and hiring you as my realtor. I need the right place, Asher, but I also can’t afford to overspend.”
He shrugs, breaking his gaze away from mine as he shoves his hands into his pockets and blankly stares at the wall behind me. “You’re telling me there is no room for you to consider places even slightly over your budget?”
“No,” I say firmly, clenching my teeth. “I have no room.” My vision turns red. The entire day comes crashing down on me, the last domino toppling over. I can tell Asher is purposely digging his way under my skin. I’m unsure if it’s because of the near kiss we shared back at my apartment or if he’s fishing for information. Probably both.
“What about your dad?”
My eyes narrow, and my throat burns from the inside out, shocked by his question. Blood immediately drains from my face. “What about him?”
“I don’t know.” Asher shrugs, his mouth turning down. “If you can’t afford it, maybe he can pay the difference.”
Tears well in my eyes. Anger bubbles in my chest and I force myself not to allow Asher to see how him mentioning my father has brought out a piece of myself I choose to keep buried.
“What makes you think that, huh?” My poison-laced words drip from my tongue. “He has all the money in the world, so he must be able to help me, right?” A tear spills from my eye, sliding its way down my cheek. It lands on my chest as I stare at Asher from across the room.
His eyes meet mine again. They’re vacant and empty. “Well, he did pay for your tuition at NYU, didn’t he? This shouldn’t be a problem for him.”
Another tear spills as I clench my hands into fists at my sides. He’s struck a nerve. Fury burns crimson red in my heated stare. My jaw tightens, and the muscles in my body swell.
“You know what, Asher? Fuck you. ” I let my feet carry me out of the building, and I rush past Asher’s car, ignoring his driver holding the door open for me. I don’t even bother waving down a cab. I don’t want to give Asher a chance to catch me outside, accusing me of using my father’s money whenever it suits me.
He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t deserve to know since he was the one who left.
I walk the next few blocks fighting back tears. My father never lived up to the promises he made before our lives changed. Neither did Asher. And I’m nothing but a fool for thinking otherwise.