14. Charleigh
FOURTEEN
CHARLEIGH
Asher is an arrogant asshole.
I haven’t spoken to him since last week. I’m still reeling from the stunt he pulled. I spent most of my week going through invoices, filling my wedding calendar for the rest of the year, and ignoring phone calls from my parents. Work has always been my escape. It’s a reminder of the beauty that still exists in a world so easily clouded by tragedy.
By the time I make it home from my store, I’ve finally come to terms with the decision I need to make. I try not to beat myself up too much, but when I’ve washed my hair and begin the task of shaving my legs, I’m reminded of every reason why I knew hiring Asher was a bad idea.
My trust in him dissolved years ago, yet I was stupid enough to put my trust in him again. I run the razor up my leg, thinking back to him standing in that old restaurant space that was terribly out of my budget. The smirk that appeared on his ridiculously gorgeous face, and the way he slithered in like a snake hunting its prey. It was as if he began circling around, asking vague questions before landing on the one topic I knew he genuinely wanted to talk about .
My father.
The scars and wounds that were caused by my father are internal, settling in right alongside the ones Asher left when he disappeared. Flashes of the night my father nearly broke him come back to me. He was the one to tip the first domino of all the events to come after that night.
My breathing becomes shallower, and my hands begin to shake. I try to calm myself down, counting to ten, scared I’m going to accidently cut myself while shaving, but even when I calm my breathing long enough to finish my shower, I still haven’t stopped thinking about Asher.
The thought of him persuading me to hire him, then deciding to make a complete one-eighty and show me a place he knew I couldn’t afford still irritates me. Part of me wants to believe Asher was convinced four hundred thousand over my budget wasn’t a deal breaker for me, but as soon as he brought up the subject of my father, he made his intentions clear. Perhaps it had to do with our almost kiss in front of the mantle. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to remember what it felt like to be touched by him. If I’m honest, I wanted him to fuck me right there, with the replica of the flower I’d shown him on Christmas Eve sitting in front of us. I wanted him to take me and demand I remember what it was like to be with him all those years ago. But now, I wish I’d never agreed to working with him in the first place. The pain is too great. Asher and I are a complicated web. A tangled, sticky mess we can’t seem to stay away from.
After I slip into my robe, my phone rings. “Hey, Julianna.”
“Hey, are you busy?” she asks.
“I just got out of the shower. I texted Asher and told him I can’t work with him anymore.” I breathe out, wringing out the rest of the water in my hair. “He broke my trust when I was eighteen, and he’s done it again, Jules. There’s too much history between us. Ten years obviously wasn’t enough time for us to forget our past. We’re finished.”
“Shit, really?” She sighs. “I’m sorry, babes. What did he do?”
“Acted like a complete asshole.” I scoff, the sting of what happened between us still prevalent. “Wait, I take that back. He was and is a complete asshole.” The words spill from my mouth, but I’m not completely sold on them because, despite the person he’s become, I know the man I fell in love with is still somewhere inside him.
But that doesn’t change the bitterness I feel for the way he left, and how I apparently haven’t been able to let it go since we’ve come back into each other’s lives.
“Oh, no,” Julianna croons. “I’m so sorry I’ve been out this week for the interior designer workshop. What happened?”
I resist the tears stinging the corners of my eyes, keeping them at bay. “He brought up my dad and assumed I could just ask him for money.”
A sharp hiss leaves Julianna’s mouth. She knows the ins and outs of my parents’ tumultuous marriage and how I was always caught in the crossfire. She knows about my father’s infidelity and how his failure to keep his dick in his pants bled into every aspect of our lives, forcing my father to declare bankruptcy.
“Men can be such dickheads.” Julianna clicks her tongue. “I swear, I don’t know why we bother.”
I nod, feeling my chin wobble as I inhale an unsteady breath. “In all fairness, everything that happened with my father and him basically making our entire family broke was after Asher left. He didn’t know.”
“He still left you, Charleigh. He didn’t even have the decency to tell you to your face. He left you a note taped to your window along with all the shattered pieces of your broken heart. Men tend to do that, no matter what age. Apparently . ”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, sensing there’s more to her statement.
Julianna pauses. “I don’t want to hear you gloat or kick your feet in excitement when I tell you.”
I frown, continuing to make my way toward my kitchen, thankful we’ve shifted the topic away from Asher. “I wouldn’t do that, Jules.”
“I know. It’s just… okay.” She sighs, preparing herself. “I ended it with Taron.”
I allow my eyes to close with relief. Now Julianna’s comment makes sense. I hold my excitement at bay, as well as holding my promise.
“What happened?”
She growls in frustration, but she doesn’t sound as upset or heartbroken as I thought she would be. “I showed up to the club he works at and found him in the VIP section with a waitress’s mouth around his dick. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw me, Charleigh. The fucker’s jaw was practically on the floor, even though he was the one who asked me to come. I thought the asshole was going to rip his dick off with how fast he pulled himself out of the skanky waitress’s mouth.”
“Wait…” I gape. “He asked you to meet him at the club but then proceeded to get a blow job from a waitress? While on the clock?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.” I blow out a heavy breath. “You deserve better, Jules.”
Sadness fills me knowing my best friend deserves a man who worships her. Or at least one who isn’t a complete fucking prick like Taron.
“I know, and you do, too,” she adds. “Do you feel like you made the right decision with Asher?”
My eyes find the framed flower sitting on top of my mantle. I was stupid for finding another one like it and framing it, as if it could somehow give me back a piece of my life that was ripped away. Emotion grows thick in my throat. We were almost there, with his mouth close to mine, his hands on me. But then I think about our conversation the other day, and the look in his eyes when he asked about my dad. “Yes.”
I take a deep breath and look over at the counter. Anywhere else but at that flower.
“Good, because in that case, I have some news,” Julianna squeaks out, soundly oddly perky. A stark shift in tone from the conversation we’ve been having.
“What do you mean?”
“Well… With my birthday next month, I’ve been planning a massive party.”
“Oh, yeah?” I smile a little. Julianna goes all out for her birthday every year. Caterers, DJs, a ridiculous amount of alcohol and decorations, even a full wait staff. If anyone knows how to do an adult birthday party well, it’s Julianna Capuleti, so I’m not entirely surprised when she brings it up.
“I told Holt already, but I’m going even bigger this year,” she explains excitedly. “I’m inviting everyone we know.”
I cock my head to the side. “Don’t you always?”
“Yes. But I’m telling you, Charleigh. I’m going all out for this one and inviting more than usual. My apartment is going to be decked out. I can’t wait for you to see what I have planned.”
“I can’t wait, either.” I mean it, too.
“Maybe we can find us some hot billionaires to keep us distracted.”
I roll my eyes, not knowing if Julianna realizes Asher is a hot billionaire. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Look, I may have ended things with Taron, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up altogether. And neither should you.” It seems my best friend still hasn’t let up on the idea of setting me up with someone.
“Okay,” I whisper, the corners of my mouth finally lifting.
Julianna squeals into the phone, and I smile. It feels good to hear both of us finding a bit of happiness. But I know it’ll disappear as soon as I hang up. And it does.
After ending my call with Julianna, I open the silverware drawer and pick up the old, folded letter slipped underneath the stack of teaspoons. I haven’t always kept it in this drawer, but the day I ran into Asher at Cyrus’s office, I came home and fished through my closet to find it. It was buried in the back, pressed between the pages of an old book. I carried it out to the kitchen while reheating some leftover Chinese takeout from the night before, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. I held the crinkled paper in my shaking hands, remembering the words scribbled inside by a man who claimed to never have the right words. I held the paper between my fingers as if opening and seeing the words would hurt me all over again.
I breathe in, wishing the night that broke Asher and me had never happened. Wishing the fire never happened. Wishing my father was a different person and wishing Asher’s mother could have stopped herself from becoming the person she turned into.
What would our lives have been like if Asher had gone to NYU? Would we still be together?
I look down at my hands, the letter still held between them. This note never would have existed, and I wouldn’t be standing here wondering about all the what ifs. I slip the letter back under the stack of spoons and slam the drawer shut.
Frustrated with myself, I flick the switch on my kettle and drop a tea bag into my favorite mug. While I wait for the water to heat, my stomach grumbles, and I search through my pantry but find nothing. It’s filled with all types of food and snacks, but it’s as if my brain can’t keep my thoughts straight long enough to decide what to eat.
I walk over to my couch, hoping to at least find something on the TV to calm my mind. I lay my head down on a pillow and immediately, my eyes grow heavier. I settle on a movie I’ve already seen, and by the time the opening credits start, I let my exhaustion take over and drag me into darkness.