Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
JULIE
Asher has been planning this trip for three weeks, ever since I told him I wouldn’t compete.
The following day, he declared that we needed a long weekend away.
He planned for us to be away from Thursday to Monday, and made the reservation at Eagle Harbor Inn himself.
He even coordinated with Ryan to stay at the house in case Devon needed anything.
When he told me all of that, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time. Surprise. Maybe he does care. Maybe I’m writing us off too soon.
"Just the two of us," he says. "No distractions. No interruptions."
I want to believe him. I want to believe that the man I married and who I celebrated a magical anniversary with less than a year ago is still there. But it feels like the ground beneath us has shifted and pulled apart in a way that can’t be repaired.
Ryan shows up just before four on Thursday with an overnight bag and a reassuring smile.
He hugs me in the driveway and tells me to have a good time.
Devon is upstairs in her room. She came down when Ryan arrived, said hello, then disappeared again without comment.
I see the blinds in her room snap shut as we pull out of the driveway.
The drive to Bainbridge takes just over an hour. Asher drives. I sit in the passenger seat and watch the landscape change as we leave the city behind. We don't talk much. It feels like we're both holding our breath, waiting to see if this will work.
Eagle Harbor Inn is small and charming. The kind of place that feels intentionally cozy rather than trying too hard.
Our room is on the second floor with a view of the water.
There's a king bed with a white duvet, a small sitting area by the window, and a bathroom with subway tile and a clawfoot tub.
Asher sets our bags down and looks around. "This okay?"
"It's lovely."
He smiles. It's a real smile, not the tired half-version I've gotten used to.
He crosses the room and pulls me into a hug.
I tense at first, and then force myself to breathe, relax, and see how I feel beneath the distance.
His arms feel solid and familiar. For a moment, I remember what it was like when we were good.
We unpack slowly. Asher hangs his shirts in the closet. I put my toiletries in the bathroom. We move around each other carefully, like we're relearning how to share space.
At seven we walk to a restaurant a few blocks away. It's a seafood place with exposed brick walls and a great vibe. The hostess seats us at a table near the window. The menu is handwritten on a chalkboard. Asher orders a bottle of wine. The first glass goes down easy. So does the second.
We order oysters and salmon and a side of roasted vegetables that come drizzled in brown butter. The food is good. Better than good. I tell Asher this and he nods, pleased.
"This was a good idea. I'm glad we're here," he says.
"Me too."
The conversation is stilted at first. We talk about work. He talks about one of the board members at Ancre who's been driving him crazy. I tell him about how Jamie and I are trying to get into an exclusive boutique in Santa Barbara. The words come slowly, like we're both searching for safe topics.
After the third glass of wine is behind us, something shifts. Asher reaches across the table and takes my hand. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist. "I know I've been distant," he says. "I know I haven't been the husband you deserve."
I don't know what to say to that. It's true, but hearing him admit it out loud makes my chest tighten.
"I want to fix this," he continues. "I want us to be us again."
"I want that too."
And I do. I didn’t marry him because I hated him. Quite the opposite.
We finish the bottle. Asher orders another glass for each of us.
By the time we leave the restaurant, I'm tipsy and warm and leaning into him as we walk back to the inn.
He has his arm around my waist. I have my head on his shoulder.
We're laughing about something stupid, something I can't even remember five minutes later.
When we get back to the room, he kisses me.
It's not tentative or careful. It's the kind of kiss that reminds me of how things were before. His hands are in my hair. My back is against the door. I'm pulling at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he's doing the same with mine.
We stumble toward the bed. He pushes me down onto the mattress and climbs on top of me. His mouth is on my neck, my collarbone, the hollow of my throat. I arch into him, my hands sliding down his back. But then he stops.
He pulls back and looks at me. His eyes are glassy from the wine. He blinks slowly, like he's trying to focus. "Shit. I've got the spins," he says.
I turn onto my side and look at him. He looks blitzed.
"Are you alright?”
"Yeah. Just drunker than I thought. Sorry, babe. I need to drop my anchor and close my eyes for a second."
Within minutes, he's asleep. I lie there next to him, still half-dressed, and feel the hope from earlier start to drain away.
I tell myself it's fine. We drank too much.
We're both exhausted. Tomorrow will be better.
I get up and change into pajamas. I brush my teeth.
I climb back into bed and pull the covers over both of us.
At least we didn’t get a call saying we were needed at home.
I wake up at three in the morning. The room is dark except for a sliver of light coming from under the bathroom door.
I reach over to Asher's side of the bed, but he's not there.
His phone isn't on the nightstand either.
I sit up and listen. I can hear his voice.
Quiet. Muffled by the door. But unmistakably his.
My stomach drops. I know who he's talking to.
I don't need to see the screen to know it's Devon.
I lie back down and stare at the ceiling.
My jaw is clenched so tight it hurts. I want to get up and throw the door open and demand to know why he can't go one fucking night without checking in on her.
But I don't. Because I'm so tired of fighting.
I'm so tired of being the one who has to beg for his attention.
So I stay in bed. I watch the clock on the nightstand. The minutes tick by. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Finally, the bathroom door opens. Asher walks out, his phone in his hand. He sets it on the nightstand and climbs back into bed. I keep my eyes closed. I keep my breathing steady. I pretend to be asleep.
He lies down next to me. He doesn't touch me. He doesn't say anything. After a few minutes, I hear his breathing slow. He's asleep again. I open my eyes and stare at the dark ceiling. And I don't fall back asleep.
The next morning, we go down to breakfast at eight. The inn serves it in a small dining room on the first floor. There are only a few other guests. We sit at a table by the window. The view of the water is beautiful. The sun is just starting to burn off the morning fog.
Asher orders coffee and eggs. I order the same. We're both quiet. The hangover from last night is sitting heavy between us. Wine can be a real killer.
My phone rings while we're waiting for our food. I glance at the screen. It's Jamie. "I should take this," I say.
Asher nods.
I step outside onto the porch and answer. "Hey."
"Julie, thank God." Jamie's voice is frantic. "We have a huge problem."
My stomach tightens. "What happened?"
"Both the Napa spa order manifest and the detailed sheet we had of the supplies needed for it are gone.”
"What do you mean it's gone?"
"I mean they’re both completely gone from the system. No record. No backup. Nothing. I've been looking for the last hour and I can't find it anywhere. No trace at all. It’s like the system fucking ate it."
I close my eyes. The Napa order is new and it’s a big one. We need to hit this out of the park. "What about the cloud backup?"
"I checked. It's not there either. I’m supposed to order the supplies today and it should have been easy but everything is gone. I wouldn't bother you but with the supply chain the way it’s been the last few years and the product containers they approved needing to be imported, I couldn't let it go. We’re in deep shit if this goes sideways. The absolute latest I can order this is Monday and if I don’t figure out if what I’m ordering is right before then.
Do you have any record of what was in that order? ”
"Yes. There’s a zip drive and a printout from the other day that I wrote all over in my car," I say. "In the trunk."
“I hate to ask. But can you come back and give it to me?”
I look back through the window at Asher. He's staring at his phone, scrolling through something. "Yeah," I say. "I can get it."
"I'm so sorry. I know you're supposed to be away this weekend."
"It's fine. We'll come back." I hang up and go back inside. Asher looks up when I sit down.
"Everything okay?"
"No. We have a problem at the shop. A big order is missing from our system and we can't find the backup. I have a hard copy at home, but I need to get it."
He sets his phone down. "We can leave after breakfast and come back once you give Jamie what you need to.”
I shake my head. “I can’t drop and run. I’m afraid we’re going to have to reschedule this.”
"Oh. Wow. Are you sure?"
“I am. I’m so sorry, Asher.”
I feel terrible. He planned this whole thing and finally took initiative and now it’s gone up in smoke.
"Hey, don’t do that. I get it. Your store is important. Of course we need to reschedule."
Something in his tone strikes me weird. Like he’s lying. I search his face for any sign of disappointment. Any indication that he's upset about cutting the trip short.
But if I had to name the expression that flits across his face, I'd call it relief. And that scares me. We eat quickly. We go back upstairs and pack our bags. The room that felt cozy last night now feels small and suffocating. I fold my clothes and shove them into my suitcase. Asher does the same.
We check out at the front desk. The woman behind the counter asks if we enjoyed our stay. Asher says yes. I don't say anything. The drive home is quiet. Asher turns on the radio. I look out the window and watch the landscape blur past.
When we pull into the driveway, Ryan's car is still there. Devon is sitting on the front porch. She stands up when she sees us. Ryan emerges from the house behind her, leaning against the doorframe.
"You're back early," she says.
When Ryan meets my eyes, I catch something in his expression. But my phone buzzes again—another message from Jamie—and I don't have time to figure out what’s up.
"Work emergency," Asher says.
He gets out of the car and walks over to her. They talk quietly while I grab my bag from the trunk. I don't wait for him. I go inside and head straight to the garage where my car is parked.
I pop the trunk and find the folder with the spa order manifest. I pull it out and text Jamie that I have it and I'm going to come to the store. When I come back inside, Asher is in the kitchen with Devon. She's laughing at something he said. He's smiling.
It’s almost like our weekend going to shit made him happy.