Chapter 12 Eva #2
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. “Thanks,” I manage. “I’m still processing it. It’s weird because the stuff that’s resonating isn’t the polished professional content I usually make. It’s just… me. Being a mess. Figuring things out.”
“Maybe that’s why people like it.”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, staring into his crust. “Everyone’s so curated online. Everything’s perfect and staged. But you’re just… real. You show up not knowing what you’re doing and owning that. That’s relatable.”
It’s possibly the most words he’s ever said to me at once. And they’re… nice words. Insightful, even.
“I didn’t know you paid attention to social media,” I say.
“I don’t. I pay attention to—” He stops. Clears his throat. “I just meant it makes sense. People would like that.”
I’m about to push when his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and frowns. “It’s Lia.”
“Everything okay?”
He answers, and I can hear Lia’s voice on the other end, rapid and slightly frantic.
“Slow down,” Asher says. “What do you—no, I’m at Eva’s. Yeah. What? Now?” He sighs. “Fine. We’ll be there in ten.”
He hangs up and looks at me with an expression that’s half apologetic, half resigned. “Porter won’t stop crying. Ethan’s dealing with a supplier emergency. Lia has a call she can’t miss with her manager in fifteen minutes.” He pauses. “She wants to know if we can help.”
“We?”
“She specifically said, ‘Bring Eva. Porter likes her.’” He grimaces. “You don’t have to. I know you’re busy with…” He gestures vaguely at my laptop.
I should say no. I don’t want to give Asher’s family any ideas when I still have no idea if there’s anything to be giving ideas about.
But Porter’s little face flashes in my mind, and the thought of escaping this awkward kitchen table conversation for something with a clear purpose—hold baby, stop crying—is deeply appealing.
“Let me grab my jacket,” I say.
The golf cart ride to Bedd Fellows is quiet but not uncomfortable.
“Your sister’s timing is interesting,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“The whole family is too busy to drive you to the doctor. Now Lia urgently needs babysitting exactly when you’re at my house.”
Asher’s jaw tightens. “The Bedds are not subtle.”
“You think she’s meddling?”
“I think the entire crew has something in mind, and they are just getting started.”
I file that away, weirdly charmed by the idea of his family conspiring to push us together. It’s annoying, probably, from his end. But it also means they think there’s something worth pushing toward.
We emerge from the trees, and the farmhouse appears, along with Baabara’s ridiculous palace gleaming in the afternoon sun. Lia is standing on Gran’s porch, bouncing a wailing Porter, looking frazzled.
“Oh thank God,” she says as we pull up. “He’s been like this for an hour. I don’t know what’s wrong. He’s fed, he’s changed, he’s just…” She gestures helplessly at the screaming infant.
“Give him here,” I say, climbing out of the cart.
Lia hands him over, and Porter’s cries stutter, hiccup, and then… stop. He blinks at me with those huge dark eyes, sniffles once, and settles against my chest with a shuddering sigh.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lia says.
“He did this before,” Asher says from the golf cart. “Eva held him and he just… stopped.”
“The baby whisperer,” Lia says, shaking her head. “Okay, I have to take this call. Ethan’s in the barn. Asher, there’s food in the fridge. Eva, you’re an angel. I’ll be an hour, tops.”
She disappears down the lane toward her house, and I’m left standing in the yard holding a now-peaceful baby while Asher crutches his way out of the golf cart.
“Guess we’re babysitting,” I say.
“Guess so.”
Porter makes a soft cooing sound and grabs a fistful of my hair. I wince but don’t pull away. Asher watches us with an expression I can’t quite read. “You’re good with him.”
“I like babies. They’re honest. They cry when they’re upset and laugh when they’re happy. No games.”
“Unlike adults.”
“Very much unlike adults.” We look at each other over Porter’s fuzzy head. Something shifts in the air—not the charged tension from before, but something softer. More tentative.
“Come on,” Asher says, nodding toward the porch. “I’ll show you where Gran hides the good snacks.”
I follow him inside, Porter warm against my chest, and try not to think about how natural this feels. How much I don’t want it to end.
An hour turns into two. Lia’s call runs long, Ethan gets stuck dealing with the supplier issue, and Asher and I end up on the couch in Gran’s living room, watching Porter sleep in his bouncy seat and eating contraband cookies.
This is the most relaxed I’ve seen Asher.
Maybe it’s being in this sprawling house, surrounded by family chaos.
Maybe it’s having a task. Maybe it’s that we’re not alone together, with Porter right there and Lia down the lane and Ethan somewhere in the barn.
The pressure is off, and without the pressure, Asher is almost… pleasant.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
He tenses slightly. “Depends on what it is.”
“Why web development? You seem frustrated about launches and things.”
He frowns and adjusts his good foot, so he’s rocking Porter’s bouncer. “I’m not qualified for anything else.”
I recoil. “You absolutely are. And you seemed really fired up when you were talking about rural telehealth.
He’s quiet for a moment. “I like building things. Solving problems. Making systems work. Code makes sense in a way that…” He stops.
“That people don’t?”
“Something like that.” Porter shifts in his sleep, makes a small sound, then settles again. We both watch this tiny human who has no idea about adult complications and awkward almost-relationships.
“Seems like Meow Mobile is pretty established, though,” I continue, not sure why I’m pressing him when I, too, have no idea what to do with my career. “And you could really benefit from telehealth.”
He looks surprised and tugs at his unruly beard. “The infrastructure for that would have to be its own entire company. Hardware and software.”
“Okay, but at one point, Meow Mobile had no infrastructure, right?”
“I guess. What got you thinking about this?”
He shifts on the couch, facing me a bit more while I squirm as the topic shifts to my own indecisions.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about what people need, what inspires them.”
He doesn’t respond, but something in his expression softens.
Lia finally comes through the door, apologizing profusely, shoving containers of gluten-free leftovers at us “for the trouble.” Ethan appears from the barn, tired but smiling, and immediately takes Porter from the bouncy seat to hold him against his chest.
“Thanks for this,” Lia says, hugging me like we’ve known each other for years instead of days. “Seriously. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Anytime,” I say. And mean it. “Well, as long as I’m here.”
On the golf cart ride back, the sun is starting to set, painting the sky orange and pink. Asher drives slowly with his left foot, wanting to test his powers, and I don’t know if it’s because of the fading light or because neither of us is in a hurry to end this.
“Your family is nice,” I say.
“They’re a lot.”
“That’s the same thing.”
He glances at me, something flickering in his eyes. “Not everyone thinks so.”
“Well, I find it refreshingly familiar.”
We pull up to Pierce Acres, and he stops the cart. For a moment, neither of us moves. “Thanks for coming,” he says. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” I gather the containers of leftovers Lia forced on me. “But I wanted to.”
He nods slowly, like he’s filing that information away.
I climb out of the cart, then turn back. “Hey, Asher?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for warning me about the router reset.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Couldn’t have you losing service in the middle of your viral moment.”
“Very considerate.”
“I’m a considerate neighbor.”
“You’re getting there.”
“I guess your reset is delayed since we were…” I wave my hand in the direction of the farmhouse.
Asher laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. I had it all automated. You should be good to go.”
I give him a thumbs up and head inside, where I catch myself smiling.