18. Lilies
18
Lilies
Dais y
Last night was emotionally packed, but I’m glad Asher and his family are moving in the right direction. I shouldn’t be so invested, but that’s how I am. I care. And how could I not? What I see in Asher’s eyes when he talks about his family breaks my heart. I’ll never have a chance to see my mom again, but he can see his, and I’m happy that he’s trying.
After waking up bright and early, I decided I’d swing by the office before meeting up with Asher. No need to bore him with the job’s day-to-day details just yet. Even if he loves the job as much as I do, I’m sure he’d prefer to sleep in.
After catching up on my emails and chatting with the few colleagues who are already here, I hail a taxi and text him that I’m on my way. I’m just stepping out of the coffee shop near his hotel when my phone rings.
“Hey,” I answer.
“You’re already here?” he asks, confusion lacing his voice.
“Yeah, I woke up early. Take your time, though. I don’t mind waiting. It’s a beautiful day.”
“I was planning to bring you coffee, to thank you for yesterday,” he says.
“No need. I have the coffee under control. Just get down here so we can assert Chicago’s superiority once and for all,” I tease.
He laughs, and the sound warms my heart. “We’ll see about that, Red.”
Thirty minutes later, he steps out of the hotel, and we’re ready to go.
“Today, we’re taking the L train,” I say. “I can’t believe we haven’t ridden it yet. It’s so much better than taking a taxi. Are you familiar with it?”
“The elevated tr ain, yes,” he says. “That’s a fascinating element of Chicago, actually. New York’s transit system is underground, for good reason—the subway is disgusting. But you somehow make the elevated railway work with the architecture.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “Well, we do have a small underground train system, but the L is very much part of Chicago.”
I relay all the facts I know about its construction until we arrive at the Chicago History Museum. Switching topics, I highlight the old Federal-style building and its history before we step inside. The museum explores both Chicago’s past and American history as a whole. I try to embellish the displays with my own facts, but it’s getting hard to concentrate with Asher’s burning eyes continuously drawn to me. He’s been watching me like that ever since we entered the museum and started our self-guided tour. It’s like he’s hoping I’ll finally crack and kiss him senseless, right here in the middle of the museum. As if I’d need an incentive.
I gesture toward the exhibit in front of us, struggling to focus on the black-and-white photograph. "This shows the aftermath of the Great Chicago Fire. It wiped out about three square miles of the city in just two days."
He stays silent, his eyes flicking from the display to me.
With a small intake of breath, I force myself to concentrate on the facts. “The blaze destroyed 17,500 buildings and seventy-three miles of roadway. Ninety thousand people—one in three Chicago residents—were left homeless by the fire.”
I meet his eyes, then immediately tear my gaze away, finding myself in my own personal inferno. Because the flames dancing in his eyes are clearly trying to compete with the 1871 fire.
“Hard to imagine,” he murmurs, his voice low and thoughtful as he motions to the frame. “A city being reduced to this.”
I nod, swallowing as I continue. “It was one of the greatest disasters in American history, but . . .” I trail off, forgetting what I was going to say next when Asher’s arm brushes against mine. It’s a light touch, but it sends a jolt through me all the same.
"But?" His voice cuts through the fog in my mind, pulling me back.
I clear my throat, trying to refocus on the exhibit. “But, it also gave the city a chance to rebuild. Chicago became the architectural powerhouse it is today because of the fire.”
“You’re right about that,” he says with a nod.
My lips curl into a smile. “Fin ally recognizing how awesome Chicago is, huh?”
His deep chuckle makes me shiver. “Maybe. This city isn’t that bad.”
I scoff, bumping him with my shoulder. “Not that bad? Admit it, you love it now.”
Angling himself toward me, he watches me with that intense gaze again, and I’m forced to avert my eyes. Unfortunately, they land right on his lips, and all I can think about is how they would feel on mine. Focus, Daisy!
Feeling my cheeks flush, I move to the next exhibit, discreetly fanning myself with the museum map.
Asher clears his throat. “How many buildings survived the Great Fire?”
"There’s a bit of a debate on that,” I reply, grateful for the distraction. “But there were at least four survivors, including the Water Tower. It’s kind of the phoenix of Chicago’s architecture. Or at least, that’s what I like to call it.”
I keep rambling facts about the Water Tower and the other buildings that survived the blaze. With each statement, I feel more and more at ease, back in my safe place.
After we finish exploring the museum—or rather, after I manage to survive the torturous tour—we decide to grab some lunch, and I take him to a smal l Italian beef shop I love.
“So, it’s a sandwich?” His eyebrows scrunch as he studies the menu.
I shake my head at his ignorance. “No, it’s so much more than that. I can’t believe you still have so much to learn after a whole week here.”
He laughs, sending butterflies to my belly. “Well, there’s just so much information to absorb. This city feels like a different country. Is that why you slap your flag everywhere?”
“Probably.” I chuckle. “But you can’t deny that it’s pretty cool.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ll give you that.”
We both order our Italian beef “wet,” per my recommendation, before taking a stroll in the sunny afternoon. The beach is right around the corner, and with this perfect weather, we decide to sit down on a bench to eat our food.
I take out the numerous napkins I grabbed at the sandwich shop and set them between us. “We’re going to need these.”
He arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. When he takes a bite of the sandwich, his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“So?” I ask, pressing my lips together. “It’s good, right. ‘Wet’ is for the extra gravy. In this shop, they dip it in it.”
He swallows his bite, then opens his mouth to talk.
“Don’t deny it,” I cut in. “You’re going to say New York sandwiches are better. I can see it on your face.”
He chuckles, then wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I was going to say, why on earth did you wait so long to introduce me to this? It’s perfection.”
A large smile stretches my lips. “I already told you. I can’t give out all my secrets just yet. They need to be earned.”
“Oh, so I’ve finally proven myself worthy?” He stares at me with that unsettling gaze, and I take a bite of my sandwich to buy myself some time.
“Maybe,” I say, taking a page from his book.
He laughs, giving me a pointed look. “Maybe? Oh, come on, Red. You know you like me. I’m your friend, remember? Don’t I deserve all the insider secrets by now?”
My heart hammers until I feel it might burst from my chest. “Well, we’re here, aren’t we?”
“True.” He fixes his caramel eyes on me, wets his lips, then takes another bite of his sandwich. And darn if it’s not the sexiest way anyone has ever looked at me before. “So, what are the rest of your secrets? Like, why is Hackett Studios the best firm in the city?”
I frown. “Who said we were the best firm?”
“Jan.” He nods, grinning. “Multiple times.”
I wipe my mouth, thinking it over. “Well, we have a great team. We’ve worked tirelessly these past two years to get where we are now. Jan taking over the firm really gave us a breath of fresh air. She’s incredibly talented and driven. I’m lucky to have her as my boss.”
“And here I thought there was some secret formula,” he jokes, his knee bouncing.
“Nope.” I smile. “Just pure talent.”
Once again, he looks at me as if he’s about to devour me, and I avert my gaze.
“Well, I’m glad it’s so successful,” he says with a nod. “You deserve it.”
“You could be a part of it.” I glance at him, my heart racing. We haven’t really brought up the subject of him moving here recently, and my skin is prickling with anticipation. “I know you still have a few days to decide, but . . .”
He swallows hard. “I do, and it’s going to be a tough decision. I’m still thinking about it.”
I smile, not wanting to press further. I’ve already nudged him enough today. We’re friends, but not that close. Besides, it’s an important life decision for him. He can’t just make it on a whim.
“It’s beautiful out here,” he says, admiring the immensity of the shimmering blue lake before us. “Like the ocean.”
I sigh. “That’s one of the reasons I love Chicago so much. The lake is so close. I love running or biking on the trail, just soaking in the landscape. Plus, it’s a perfect place in the summer to cool down.”
“Yeah.” He nods, his gaze sweeping from side to side. “Having the beach so close is definitely a perk.”
“Better break out that list, Forbes,” I say, unable to help myself. “This point’s for Chicago.”
Laughing, he just shakes his head and finishes his sandwich.
After lunch, we meander through the park, enjoying the warm afternoon sun, until we reach one of my favorite areas of the park—the conservatory.
“I love this Victorian-era glasshouse,” I say as we’re approaching. “Especially in the spring.”
“Do you come here often?”
I nod eagerly. “Every season, multiple times. It’s not far from my place, and it’s such a pleasant walk through all the flowers. Plus, the building is magnificent.”
I open up my treasure chest of fa cts, sharing them with Asher as we stroll around the conservatory. We amble through the different halls and houses, including the fan-favorite orchid house, which features some rare specimens.
Leaving the conservatory, we walk through a portion of the Lincoln Park Zoo to reach my favorite spot in the park—and possibly the entire city—the Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool.
I lead Asher down the narrow pathway flanked by lush vegetation until we reach the pool. As we approach the water’s edge, the air comes to life with the fragrance of spring. The delicate sweetness of blooming lilies swirls around us, mingling with the earthy aroma of wildflowers and the moist smell of the soil around us.
The wooden pavilion stands like a beacon in the bright sun, blending seamlessly with the water around it.
“Wow,” Asher exhales, admiring the scenery. “It’s gorgeous here. Like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the city.”
A large smile builds on my face as I breathe in the familiar mix of aromas. “I know. I love it here. It’s so peaceful.”
We continue down the limestone pathway, taking in the beauty of the Prairie School landscape pool. Finally, we sit down on a bench in silence, listenin g to the gentle sound of the waterfall and the chirping of songbirds.
“This is probably my favorite spot out of everything you’ve shown me,” he says after a while. “A great place to think.”
Another smile spreads on my face. “Really? It’s my favorite too. Don’t get me wrong, I love architecture, but there’s something so precious about nature and landscaping. It’s always my favorite part of the job.”
Asher’s phone rings, and he sighs as he checks the screen. “My brother. He wants to meet up, just the two of us.”
“That’s a great idea,” I say softly. “You should go. I’ll be at the office all day tomorrow anyway.”
“You will?” he asks, frowning.
“Yeah. We have two big meetings I can’t miss, so you might as well go out with your brother.”
“I guess,” he says, a faraway look in his eye. “Maybe I’ll hang out with him in the morning, and then I can meet you for lunch?”
“Of course.” I smile, placing a hand on his thigh before instantly regretting it.
Okay. What the heck was that? This is not me playing it cool and being friendly. My hand doesn’t belong anywhere near his thigh. I yank it back, but he catches it.
His hypnotic gaze latches onto me , and my heart skips a beat. “Thank you,” he says after a while. “For helping me with my family. I know I said it before, but one time doesn’t feel like enough. I’d never have gotten through this without you.”
My chest warms, and a sparking current jolts my heart. I’ve always liked helping people, but with Asher, it feels so much bigger than that. It’s like I’m peering into his soul, seeing the pain he’s been carrying since childhood, and I want to erase it. Be there for him. More than anything, I want to be the person he wants by his side.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur before leaning forward to hug him. His strong arms wrap around me, and I instantly feel secure. Being with Asher is so easy, so natural. I never thought I would feel that way again with anyone. But right now, I’m happy just being his friend, because I know that’s what he needs.