Chapter 28
Asher
After getting caught in the rain, I threw Claire into my shower and had my way with her. Or maybe she had her way with me. All that matters is that we were both satisfied in the end. I assumed she’d want to have dinner with me and the guys, but she said she had a headache and went to bed early.
She flitted in and out of work all week, meeting up with us a few times during the day but never for long, and she always had an excuse about why she couldn’t join us for dinner.
The guys are only here for a couple more nights, and the closer we get to their checkout date, the more apprehensive I am about the way Claire is avoiding them. I really want her to spend more time with them. I’ve never introduced them to a woman, but my buddies knowing Claire feels right.
When she comes out of her bedroom dressed in ripped jeans and a light pink shirt that shows off her delicious midriff, I corner her in the hallway and drop a hand to her waist.
She sucks in a breath at the contact against her bare skin.
“Have dinner with us tonight.”
“Hmm?” Her gaze flits away, but only for a second. “Oh. No. That’s okay. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“I’m not asking, Claire.” My tone is firm but not fierce.
Rather than agree, she bites her bottom lip.
I tug it free and grip the side of her throat tightly, though I rub my thumb delicately along her jaw.
She swallows against my palm, searching my face.
“You’re not intruding. I want you there. Do you understand?”
She nods timidly but doesn’t speak.
“Good girl.” I kiss her on the forehead, then release her.
The guys insisted on cooking for us this evening, and Jessica was happy to cover for Claire for the night, so if she had excused herself yet again, I would have been disappointed.
Normally, we eat all our meals either at the cafeteria or at the kitchen island, but this evening we’re gathered around the dining table, ignoring the bits of dried Play-Doh plastered to the surface. Zion is seated at the head, Raymond and Benji across from me, and Claire to my right.
“A kid-free week looks good on you, man,” Zion says as we’re digging in.
“It’s just what the doctor ordered.” I wink, my gaze swinging to Claire.
“Hey, I did no such thing,” she mumbles around a mouthful of chicken.
“Maybe it’s all the se—” Benji’s words cut off abruptly.
Beside him, Ray is tucking his elbow back in.
“Sssailing,” Benji course corrects. “Mm-hmm. Maybe it’s the sailing. And all that vitamin D from the sun.”
Claire picks up her glass of wine, smirking wickedly. “That’s odd. I didn’t know you’d been sailing. There has been a lot of sex, though. And vitamin D. If the ‘D’ stands for ‘dick.’”
Everyone roars with laughter.
Benji high-fives her across the table. “Dude. I fucking love you.”
If the L-word makes her uncomfortable, she doesn’t show it. Me, on the other hand? I’m squirming in my seat.
The conversation flows naturally from topic to topic, and as the night progresses and Claire connects so well with my best buds, I can’t help but find myself more and more relieved. Meddling thoughts worm their way into my mind as I tip back my second glass of Malbec.
Visions of more meals shared with the woman beside me and my closest friends and their significant others. Our children wreaking havoc on the property.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me and tossing those ridiculous thoughts away.
“Sorry,” I announce as I scoot my chair back. “It’s my folks.”
I stride for the living room so I can talk to them without disturbing the ongoing conversation.
“Mom?” I say. “Is everything okay?”
Instead of being greeted by her familiar voice, I’m greeted by Bea’s cries.
Instantly, my dad instincts kick into gear. “What’s wrong?”
If my daughter is sick or injured while I’m not there, I don’t know how I’ll forgive myself. I’m an idiot for sending her away for a week while I gallivant around like a fucking bachelor. God, I’m so selfish.
“Everyone is okay, honey,” my mom soothes in her trademarked Jewish Mother voice. “We just have a homesick little girl.”
Relief floods my veins. Okay. She’s not hurt. She’s not sick. Just sad. While it’s gut-wrenching, it’s not an emergency.
“Come here, Dolly,” Mom says. “Daddy’s on the phone.”
Her sobs and sniffles get louder, and then her breath hitches. “D-daddy?”
“Hi, Dolly. I’m here,” I murmur, turning around. “What’s going on?”
From the table, four sets of eyes scrutinize me, my friends likely noting my concern.
In the most pitiful delivery I’ve ever heard, my daughter whimpers, “I want to come home.”
My heart pinches sharply. “Aw, it’s okay,” I tell her. “You have two more nights with Mimi and Papa. Did you have fun with Uncle Ezra, Lee Lee, and Kane the other day? I heard you made French toast casserole and friendship bracelets.”
Typically, redirecting the conversation works with her, though this time she’s undeterred.
“I… want… to… come… home… now,” she says through racking sobs.
I run my fingers through my hair. Fuck. I’ve been drinking, so there’s no way I can pick her up tonight, and Ezra borrowed my parents’ car to take Kane on a mini road trip. I’d ask Jack and Natalie, but neither feels comfortable driving at night these days.
“Is Claire gone?” she rasps.
“What?”
“Is Claire still at home?”
Home. It’s like a punch to the gut. She says it like this is Claire’s home too. Though to a five-year-old, I suppose it seems that way.
I lock eyes with the woman in question as I respond. “Yes. Claire’s still here, Dolly. She hasn’t left yet.”
Claire’s brows raise in question and probably confusion since she can only hear half of the conversation.
I’m puzzled too; why is my daughter so concerned about Claire?
“Put Mimi back on the phone, please.”
“Are you going to come get me?” she presses.
“I’ll see what I can do. I love you.”
“M’kay.” She sniffles, then there’s a muffling noise, and my mom comes back on the line.
“I’ve never seen her so inconsolable before,” she says. “You know I wouldn’t call you unless…”
“I know, Mom.” I rub my eyes while I flip through my options, none of which are good. “It’s okay. I, uh. But I’m not sure what to do. I’ve had a couple of drinks, and—”
“I’ll go get her.” The couch cushion dips as Claire sits beside me.
I peer over at her, taking in the concern painted across her face.
“What?” I say to her. “No. It’s a long drive to the city and back.”
She pats my thigh gently. “I don’t mind. Unless you don’t trust me to—”
“No. No. Of course I trust you.” I set my hand on top of hers and squeeze.
“And I’ve literally only had one sip of wine.” She nods to the dining table.
That pinch in my chest returns. “It’s not that.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Zion interjects from the table.
When I zero in on him, his eyes are narrowed in challenge.
The problem is that this feels like a very “mom” thing to do, and that scares the shit out of me. But I can’t admit that out loud.
I swing back to Claire, finding her honey eyes dripping with distress.
“You sure? It’ll make for a long night.”
“Ash, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t certain. Make me a coffee to-go and I’ll be fine. Please. Let me do this for you.”
Let me do this for you.
Such a simple phrase, and yet it’s flooded with complexity, and it swamps me with a whole host of emotions.
“Hey, Mom?” I say into the phone. “Let Bea know that Claire will come get her tonight.”
“Of course, honey. Tell her to drive safe and we’ll see her soon.”
I hang up, then rise and offer my hand to help her stand. “I’ll start the coffee.”
Before I can walk away, she loops her arms around my waist in a grounding hug.
“Thanks, baby,” I whisper, my lips brushing the top of her head.
“Don’t mention it. Have fun with your boys. I’ll be back with your girl before you know it.”
My girl? No. My girls.
Both of them.
Claire’s headlights blind me as she reverses down the driveway, and I watch until they’re as small as the fireflies out tonight.
When I return to the cabin, every one of the guys is scrutinizing me, like they’re burrowing into my soul.
“What?” I huff.
“Dude. You’re fucked,” Benji says.
Raymond and Zion nod along.
I return to my seat at the table. “What are you talking about?”
Raymond thumbs over his shoulder. “You’re down bad for that woman.”
Zion chuckles. “Did you just say ‘down bad’?”
Ray’s cheeks redden. “What? Did I not use it correctly?”
“No, you’ve got it,” Zion assures him with a grin.
Crossing my arms, I say, “Again. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Benji rolls his eyes. “She’s good for you, you know. Sounds like she’s good for Bea too.”
“Not this again.” Sighing, I pour a little more wine into my glass. Then I take a big swig. I have a hunch I’m going to need it.
“Do you plan on marrying again?” Zion asks, his focus solely fixed on me.
The guys and I never hold anything back, but this is the first time they’ve outright asked me about marriage. Fuck. It feels too invasive.
They wait for me to answer, every one of them stock-still, blinking at me.
Then they wait some more.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“What about more kids?” Benji breaks out a smirk. “Dude. How cool would it be if our kids were around the same age? They could get married and we’d be in-laws.”
He’s tipsy, maybe a little drunk, trying to toss some levity onto the harsh conversation.
And it helps. The idea of merging our families does sound sort of awesome and enticing.
“I never pictured Bea as an only child, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I let the image of her holding a sibling marinate in my brain for a moment and sigh. “I’ve never brought a woman around Bea. This thing with Claire has me all twisted. Bea met her as a staff member and as a friend of the family. Not as my…”
“Girlfriend?” Benji finishes for me.
Unease rolls through me. “She’s not my girlfriend. It’s just sex.”
He raises a challenging brow. “She looks an awful lot like your girlfriend to me. She lives in your house. You do her laundry. She washes your daughter’s hair.”
I frown at him. “How do you know I do her laundry?”
“I didn’t. You just told me.”
“Asshole,” I laugh. “It’s just—I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Raymond clears his throat. “Trust me, Asher. If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”
Oof. That truth is like a punch to the gut.
“Don’t you want someone to share your life with?” he asks.
“Yes?” It comes out like a question. “I don’t want to end up a lonely old man, but what if something bad happens? It hurts too much to think about losing another person.” My voice cracks at the admission. “How could I survive that again?”
“We don’t have any guarantees in life,” Raymond reminds me. “But you can’t let the what-ifs stop you from living.”
Head dropping back, I groan. “Fuck. I don’t know what to do.”
“Sure you do.” Zion gives me a sympathetic smile. “It’s just hard to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Ask her to stay.”