Chapter 9
I snap Mason back into his stroller and then walk about ten feet behind Asher as he saunters through the park as if he owns every piece of earth he steps on.
People stop him—his glasses and hat do nothing to hide who he is.
He doesn’t rush anyone as he signs autographs and takes selfies and smiles and laughs.
He never draws attention to himself, but he never turns anyone away either.
And he never, ever, acknowledges us.
I left his place last night and lost my flipping mind. I woke my mother up and made her sit with me while I lost it with her too. In so many ways, I’ve wanted Mason to have a father in his life. A man who would love him and care for him and support him the way Gary Hathaway has done with me.
But fuck all if I ever wanted it to be a football player.
A football player like Asher.
A man who screams sex and oozes desire and has women staring at him like they’d use every hall pass or excuse just to have a chance with him.
That was exactly who my father was. Charming.
Funny when he wanted to be. I remember hearing my mother scream at him about her best friend, and he didn’t even apologize for it.
He simply said there’s only so much of one woman a man can take before he grows bored.
So for Mason’s sake—and my own—I can never allow anything to happen with Asher. Because Asher wants Mason, and that’s more important to me than anything else.
We cross the street and then shuffle into the elevator of his building. “My code is 5435,” he tells me, “and I’ll have the doorman put you on the list of people who don’t have to ring up.”
The rest of the ride is silent, and by the time we reach his penthouse, Mason is out, fast asleep in his stroller. “He didn’t have much of a nap this morning. He’s transitioning from needing two naps to one. I think all the excitement in the park wore him out.”
“Good, because I wanted to talk to you about something specific.”
My heart jolts in my chest. “What’s that?”
We enter his place, and he directs us toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’d love some ice water. It’s hot out there.”
He moves about his top-of-the-line kitchen with ease as he pours each of us a glass of ice water. “How long will he be out for?”
I turn over my shoulder and look at Mason, fast asleep, and then turn back to Asher. “Could be ten minutes. Could be an hour.”
“Will it wake him if we talk in here?”
“Only if you give me something to yell at you about.”
There’s discomfort in his voice and wariness in his eyes as he says, “I make no promises.”
I chew on my lip and set my glass down on the counter before I’ve even taken a sip. “You’re making me nervous, Asher. Just say it already.”
He lets out a breath, his gray eyes piercing into mine. “I’d like you both to move in here with me.”
I blink. Then I laugh. “Uh. No.”
“Will you allow me to explain my reasoning before you immediately shut it down?”
My eyebrows bounce. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” he demands, setting his own glass down. “Wynter, I want my son to live with me.”
Fuck. This is partially what I was worried about.
“Asher.” I fall silent after I say his name. He’s entitled to have his son in his life as much as I am. But it’s hard to transition from being the only parent in his life when that’s all I’ve been for ten months.
“Listen,” he jumps in. “I’m not trying to take over, and I’m not trying to do anything that’s not okay with you.
I just want to see him every day, or at least as much as I can, and I’m not sure how that’s possible unless you both live here.
Between our schedules and the press, it’d be a nightmare.
I’m a fifteen-minute walk to the hospital, and I have extra bedrooms for both of you. ”
“Your place isn’t childproofed.”
He gives me an unamused look, and I admit, that was a weak argument. “I will hire a child specialist to come in and baby-proof my place from head to toe. The stairs will have a gate, and the door to the rooftop and pool will have an extra bolt at the top. Hell, if you need me to move, I’ll move.”
My eyes narrow, my tone incredulous. “Just like that?”
He steps forward, the intensity in his gaze unable to be ignored. “Just like that. Is that what you want?”
“I never agreed to live with you, so I don’t need your offers or promises.”
This pisses him off. “But I’m offering them all the same, ice queen .”
I raise an eyebrow at the way ice queen slithers sardonically from his tongue.
“Don’t get shitty with me because I didn’t jump at your offer.
I’m not one of those women who had you sign their stomachs or cleavage while they flirted and made bedroom eyes at you.
Think of what you’re saying. Living with someone is no small thing.
Even with separate bedrooms and odd schedules, you’re talking about co-parenting in the same space. ”
He growls, running his hands through his hair.
“Fine. I get that I just threw that on you and expected you to jump all over it. But please, don’t discount it either.
If we’re trying to keep this quiet, then that will make scheduled visits difficult.
If he’s here, if you’re here, then it all works.
I’m not asking you to share my bed. Just my home. ”
“And yet last night, that’s exactly what you were trying to do.”
He runs his finger along his bottom lip, his eyes growing darker, hooded.
“Was I trying to get you into my bed last night?” His voice dips.
“Yes. One hundred percent, I was. The thought of finally making you come and getting to see it, getting to feel it, made me wild with need for you.” He takes a step in my direction, a predator stalking exactly what he wants and refusing to settle for anything less.
“I’ve already told you I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
But you’re more than that to me now. You’re the mother of my son and that changes everything.
” More steps, and I start to back up until my butt hits the wall.
“Asher—” My voice dies as he continues to advance. My body heats at the image he painted, making my nipples tighten and blood thrum through my ears. I stand here, flat and stuck while he prowls, his eyes all over me. I shake my head, but that does nothing to stop him.
“You’re smart. Fierce. I can’t imagine a scenario where I don’t want you. Where every inch of me doesn’t burn with how much I want you.”
I gulp down air, my voice sticking high in my throat. “Asher, this is what I was talking about. This can’t happen.”
“I know you believe that, sweetheart.” He stops right in front of me, the heat from his body radiating through mine, his smoldering, intense gaze devouring.
One hand plants into the wall beside my head, and he dips down until our faces are inches apart.
“But if you need me to say it, I’ll say it.
The way I want you, hell, the way I’ve wanted you for the last year and a half hasn’t changed.
It won’t change. That said, I will do whatever it takes to get both of you in my home, including keeping my hands to myself.
” He lets that hang before he adds, “If that’s what you want. ”
If that’s what I want? What a joke. “A hot look and a few choice words won’t have me falling into your bed.”
He smirks, his face inching in until his nose runs along mine. “I always liked a challenge.”
I press my hands into his chest, ignoring the strong, blazing skin and muscles beneath my palms, and give him a shove. “That’s not what I’m trying to be. I’m trying to protect myself. I’m trying to protect my son. You’re telling me you’ll keep your hands to yourself, and yet you’re all over me.”
With a growl and a grunt, he rights himself. “Move in with me, Wynter.”
My body tightens. “No.” Because I know exactly where that will lead.
He stares at me, long and hard. “No?”
I shake my head.
He thinks about this for a moment. “Fine. Move one floor beneath me.”
“What?” Chokes out.
He thrusts himself away from the wall, away from me, and finally, I can take a breath. A breath that doesn’t taste like him. That doesn’t smell like him.
“The woman who lives beneath me is getting ready to sell her place. If I buy it, will you and Mason move in there?”
I hesitate.
“Say yes to that.”
I don’t utter a sound.
“Say yes, Wynter,” he presses. “Tell me you’ll move one floor beneath me so I can see my son. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Which considering he could haul me into court and legally demand more, is saying a lot. It’s not his apartment. It’s far from his bed.
“I’d want to buy it.”
“It’s twelve million.”
I practically throw up on his floors.
“No. No way. I can’t afford that, and I can’t allow you to pay for that. It’s too much.” Christ, that’s worse than living here with him. Twelve million? I shudder to think what this place cost him.
He growls in agitation, his hands interlocking and clasping behind his head as his elbows butterfly out. “Then tell me what other options I have here. I’d buy it with no strings attached. I just want to be his dad.”
My heart stutters and then stops dead in my chest. I just want to be his dad.
How many times in my life have I wished that my own father would make such a claim over me? It’s everything I want for Mason. It’s certainly not something I can say no to. He just offered to drop twelve million to see his son every day.
Could I do it? Could I move in here with him?
I know how those stories go. I know what happens to those women. They give in. They fall in love. They get destroyed.
No strings, he claims. But I would still be living in a place he bought for us—that’s all strings. If I were living here with him and it didn’t work out, it’d be easier to leave.
“Please,” he says with such desperation that I quake. “This could be a win-win for all of us.”
Only it feels as though I’m already losing. Already handing over pieces of myself I don’t want to relinquish.