39. Asher
39
ASHER
I ’ve been avoiding Viv like the plague. Shocker, I know. This is what I do.
I want to go to her, but I’m a fucking coward. The things she said . . .
I gulp, thinking about the things she said to me about Colt. About us. I lift my water glass to my lips as I take a drink and listen to the mundane, totally normal conversation at dinner. Celebrating another week being over.
Everything feels so damn normal as I look around the table and see Hayden sitting next to Lola, and Penelope with Linc next to her. Viv is on Linc’s other side, and Baz is in between us. My mother sits next to me with Tony beside her.
No matter how many seats we add to the table, there will always be an empty space.
I can hear Colt’s laugh, but it’s faint. It grows quieter and quieter every single day, and it’s horrifying to me.
How can I forget him?
How can I tell Viv how damn much I love her and allow myself to be happy when he’s not here?
“So, are we going to talk about that ring on your finger, little miss?” I zone back to the conversation when I hear my mother’s voice and see she’s talking to Lola.
She’s sporting a diamond on her finger. I look to Hayden. “You finally did it?”
He grins, beaming with pride. “I did it a while ago.”
Lola smiles brightly. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”
I’ve never seen her look this happy, and goddamn, I feel nothing but happiness for her. And him. “Wow. Congrats.”
My mom is obviously pleased. “Oh, I'm so happy! Where are you two getting married? Have you set a date?”
The lovebirds look at each other and then back at Mom. Lola is the one to answer. “Soon. Here. On the beach with everyone who’s sitting right here.”
My mom looks happy about that and nods. I’m just fucking glad they aren’t dragging us out to the lake. I don’t think I can do that again. “That sounds lovely.”
During the rest of dinner, everyone else is busy talking about the upcoming wedding, but my thoughts remain in the past. Where they always are.
How happy would Colt be about his Pea’s long-lost brother marrying Lola? I think he would be happy.
After dinner, I decide to try to make up for all my bastard years and do the dishes while everyone else gathers in the living room for a drink. It’s not like I'm through being a bastard, but it helps to get some points back.
But Lola, my sweet, nosey as fuck sister, can’t help herself. She comes in under the guise of helping me out, but I know she’s here to talk.
“Congrats, Lols. I’m happy for you.”
She looks down at the ring with that same goofy grin she gets anytime she’s around Hayden. “Thanks. Now what are we going to do about you?”
I roll my eyes and place a plate in the dishwasher. “There’s nothing to do.”
“Yeah. There is, Asher. You have to move forward. I can’t be truly happy until you are.”
“Well that sounds like a problem.”
She crosses her arms and doesn’t let up. “She loves you. What the hell are you waiting for?”
“I . . .” I look at her with confusion and frustration because I don’t fucking know, and she knows it.
“She didn’t say those things to hurt you.”
“I know.”
She unfolds her arms and lets them drop to her sides. “She wasn’t wrong.”
“I know that too.” My voice is quiet, and it was hard to admit that.
“So go to her, you asshole. Be with her.”
“Don’t you think I want to do that?” I look away from her because I can’t face her. “It feels wrong to be happy. And I'm afraid I'll blame her for it later.”
“For making you too happy?”
I turn to face my sister, deadly serious. Feeling sick to my stomach because I know it isn’t about wanting to fuck other women. It isn’t about my freedom. It’s the fact that’s she makes me so fucking happy I can’t stand it when my brother is gone.
“There’s no such thing, Asher. He would want us to be happy. Hell, he always wanted that. It’s why he tried to please Dad so much. When Dad gave up on the rest of us, he focused on Colt.”
“He saved us.”
She nods. “And I'll miss him every single day of my life. We all will. But we owe him this.”
I swallow the guilt and shame as she hugs me, her touch full of comfort.
“Get. Your. Girl.”
I nod my head, understanding and squeeze her back. “Thanks for not getting married at the lake.”
She laughs at that and pulls back, still laughing. “You’re such an asshole.”
I laugh too and hug her again before forcing her to go back to the living room to celebrate.
Because we should be celebrating. It’s not fair that he’s not here with us, but she’s right . . .
I owe him this.