Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Kat
I gaze up at the ceiling, my body still humming with leftover tension that refuses to fade. Neither of us speaks, and the silence stretches so long that I start to think Asher must’ve fallen asleep. His breathing has evened out, becoming deeper and more regular.
But I can’t get myself to drift off. I’m too wound up, my heart still hammering away like I just raced up several flights of stairs.
My body feels hot all over, flushed with the memory of everything he said while we were putting on our little show.
The images his voice conjured up in my head are playing on repeat, and I can’t seem to shut them off.
I focus on breathing steadily, trying to slow my racing pulse. In for four counts, out for four counts. It’s a technique I learned from a meditation app I downloaded last year and never really used. But right now I need something, anything, to calm down.
It’s starting to work, my heart rate finally coming down from its frantic pace, when Asher moves beside me.
The mattress shifts under his weight, the old springs creaking slightly, and I realize he’s not asleep after all. My body stiffens up again, and I tentatively glance over at him. “Are you not tired?”
He gazes at me in the darkness, and I can see his face clearly in the snow-reflected light filtering through the curtains. His eyes are open and alert, definitely not sleepy looking. He shakes his head slowly.
“Yeah, me neither,” I admit, trying to keep my voice casual. “Too wound up, I guess.”
The words are out before I can stop them, and I immediately want to take them back.
They feel too suggestive, too revealing.
What if he figures out that I actually came back there?
That the whole thing affected me way more than it should have?
That I’m lying here still thinking about it, my body refusing to let go of the fantasy we created?
I scramble for something else to say, anything to fill the awkward silence and move past what I just admitted.
“This used to be my room,” I blurt quietly. “Whenever I’d do sleepovers here as a kid, this is where I’d stay.”
“Yeah?” He rolls over onto his side to face me properly, and I can feel the weight of his attention.
“Yup. Grandma Beverly would make it up special for me. Sometimes she’d even put fresh flowers on the dresser or leave a little chocolate on the pillow.” I smile at the memory, then jerk my chin toward the ceiling. “See that crack up there?”
I point to the jagged line in the plaster, running from the light fixture toward the window. It’s more visible now than it was when I was a kid, the crack having widened over the years as the old house has aged.
“I used to be terrified of it,” I continue in a whisper.
“I was convinced that monsters or bugs could slip through and get me at night. I’d lie here staring at it, working myself up until I was scared to even close my eyes.
One night when I was eight or so, I cried about it.
Full-on sobbing because I was so sure something was going to come through. ”
“Oh, shit. What did your grandmother do?”
“She came in and sat right here on the edge of the bed. She didn’t tell me I was being silly or that I needed to grow up.
She just sat and told me stories.” I smile fondly at the memory of her rubbing circles on my back.
“About how old houses settle over time, how the wood shifts and the foundation moves. How cracks are just the building getting comfortable. She said it was like when you stretch in bed first thing in the morning and hear your joints pop. Nothing scary, just natural.”
My gaze traces the length of the jagged black mark, familiar even after all these years. “After that, I wasn’t so scared of it anymore. I’d look up at it before falling asleep and think of the house settling in for the night, just like me. Making itself comfortable.”
Asher chuckles. “Making itself comfortable. I like that. And I like your grandma, she seems like an amazing woman.”
I snuggle deeper into the mattress, pulling my legs up a little. “She’s the only person who never made me feel like a disappointment.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest in a way I didn’t intend. Even in the darkness, I can see the frown that pulls at Asher’s lips, and I quickly backtrack a little.
“I mean, my parents try their best. They really do. They’ve always supported me even when they don’t understand what I’m doing. They just don’t always… understand me, you know? They have no idea how to relate to certain parts of me.”
Asher hums under his breath, still studying my face. I pick at a loose thread on the quilt, not looking at him.
“Honestly, the person who made me feel the most like a disappointment was Daniel. How fucked up is that?”
He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a stillness in the air that lets me know he’s listening closely.
“I looked up to him when we first got together,” I admit, the words spilling out now that I’ve started.
“He seemed so put together, so sure of everything. He had this great job, knew exactly where he was going in life, had all these plans. And I was this mess of a person trying to figure out my career and my life and who I even was. So I just followed his lead on everything. Whatever he wanted, whatever he thought was best, that’s what we did.
I twisted myself into knots trying to meet his expectations. ”
I sigh, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind my ear.
“But it never seemed like it was enough, you know? I always fell short somehow. My career was too unpredictable. My friends were too different. I was too curvy, too enthusiastic about things that didn’t matter to him.
” I make a face, remembering the casual cruelties disguised as helpful suggestions.
“He used to tell me I’d be perfect if I just lost fifteen pounds and got a real job.
He made me feel like I was this rough draft of a person who needed major editing to be worthy of love. ”
A knot forms in my chest as I finish speaking.
Despite the rational side of my brain telling me it shouldn’t matter, I actually care what Asher thinks of me.
And even though it felt good to share all of this with him, I also wonder if it was a mistake to lay out every flaw my ex-boyfriend ever saw in me, highlighting them all for Asher to see.
What if he agrees? What if he looks at me now and sees all those same flaws?
But when I work up the nerve to meet his gaze, I don’t see anything in his expression that makes me think he’s on board with Daniel’s assessment of me. In fact, he looks pissed.
“He’s a fucking idiot.”
The vehemence in his tone surprises me.
“Well—”
“No, I’m serious.” The anger in his expression grows, his voice a gruff murmur.
“He had you—beautiful, passionate, so fucking talented—and instead of feeling grateful every day that you chose him, he tried to change you into someone else. Someone lesser.” He presses his lips together, shaking his head against the pillow.
“Any man who can’t see how perfect you are exactly as you are doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. ”
The harsh fury in his words makes my stomach swoop. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone defend me so fiercely, not even my parents.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “That means a lot.” I laugh, tugging the covers up a little. “Honestly, I’m glad you had the idea to, you know… pretend we were having sex earlier. Back when Daniel and I were dating, he used to say I was…”
I trail off, embarrassed by my own honesty.
“What?” Asher’s eyes narrow.
“Boring in bed.” My stomach twists as I say it, the humiliation burning as fresh as it did years ago. “Too quiet, too inhibited. He said he was sick of doing all the work, and that I never made it exciting for him.”
Asher lets out a low curse. “Jesus, Kat. He was manipulating you. Making you think you were the problem so you wouldn’t notice he was a selfish asshole who didn’t give a damn if you enjoyed it.
He probably never even tried to figure out what you liked, right?
Never asked what felt good or paid attention to what made you respond? ”
I think about it, really think about it. “No. Not really.”
“Exactly. And that’s not on you, that’s on him. Someone who actually cares will pay attention. They’ll learn what works for you, what makes you feel good. They won’t just expect you to perform on command like some kind of trained seal.”
“What if he was right, though? What if I really am—”
“No.” His voice cuts through whatever I was about to say, and he shakes his head firmly, half sitting up.
“Absolutely fucking not. There’s nothing boring about you.
And any man worth having would spend hours figuring out exactly what makes you fall apart.
He’d make it his mission to learn every sound you make, every way to touch you that drives you crazy. ”
The words send heat shooting straight to my clit all over again, immediately undoing all the work I did to tame my pulse. But they do something else to me too, unwinding the tension in my stomach that’s been sitting there ever since I brought up my ex.
Maybe Asher is right. Maybe I’m not the problem.
Maybe I never was.
“Thank you,” I say again, even though it feels inadequate. “I guess I still need to get some perspective on that relationship. I didn’t realize how much it had fucked with my head in some ways.” I wrinkle up my nose in distaste. “That’s what happens when you fall for the wrong person.”
Asher makes a noise of acknowledgement, settling back down on the mattress beside me. It dips under his weight, bringing us a couple inches closer together. The backs of my knuckles brush against his bare chest, and I subtly pull my hand back, my heart jumping.
“What about you?” I ask in an effort to shift the focus away from my own messy history. “You know a lot about my past relationship status, but I don’t really know anything about yours. Have you ever been in love?”
He goes quiet for so long I think he’s not going to answer. I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to when he finally speaks.
“I thought I was. Once.”
“What happened?”
There’s another pause, and then he says, “Her name was Alexis. We dated for about a year, and I thought… I thought she might be the one. She was beautiful, charming, said all the right things. I was young and na?ve enough that I was even thinking about proposing.”
My stomach clenches at that, but I stay quiet, letting him tell the story at his own pace.
“Then I found out she’d been selling stories about me to tabloids.
Every intimate conversation, every vulnerable moment, every private detail about my life—she turned it all into cash.
” His laugh is hollow, devoid of any real humor.
“She said she loved me while she was literally profiting off my pain.”
“Oh, god.” My eyes widen in horror. “Holy fuck, that’s awful.”
He runs a hand over his face. “The worst part wasn’t the betrayal itself.
It was realizing how stupid I’d been. All those moments I thought were real?
They were just research for her next payday.
Every time I trusted her with something, she was already figuring out how to monetize it.
She taught me something important though. ”
“What?” I ask softly.
“That people always have an agenda. Love is just another word for manipulation. It’s how people get you to lower your guard so they can take what they want from you.”
The cynicism in his words makes me flinch. “You don’t really believe that.”
“Yeah, I do.” His voice is matter-of-fact, resigned, like he’s accepted this as an unchangeable truth.
“Think about it, Kat. Your ex used love to make you feel small, to control you and mold you into what he wanted. My ex used it to exploit me for money. My parents claimed to love each other, but they tore our family apart. Love is just the pretty packaging people put around their selfish needs.”
“But that’s not real love,” I protest, pushing myself up on one elbow so I can look at him properly. “That’s just people using it to excuse terrible behavior. Real love isn’t like that.”
“It’s what people call love, though. So what’s the difference?” He turns his head to look at me, and there’s something almost challenging in his gaze. “Everyone wants something. Everyone has an agenda. Love is just the excuse we use to take what we want from each other while pretending it’s noble.”
“So you don’t…” I lick my lips, not sure I want to know the answer. “You don’t want to fall in love again?”
“I don’t want another long-term relationship, period.” There’s an edge of finality to his voice. “I’ve learned my lesson. Keep things simple, keep them temporary, and nobody gets hurt.”
The words puncture something inside me that I didn’t even know was there.
Some fragile bubble of possibility that had been growing without my permission over the past few days.
My stomach twists, but I force myself to smile into the darkness.
“I guess it’s a good thing this arrangement between us is just fake then. ”
There’s a long pause, and in the dim light filtering through the window, I watch his expression shift. Something passes across his features, his brows drawing together for a second before his features smooth out into something I can’t read.
“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “I guess it is.”