23. Asher
TWENTY-THREE
ASHER
I helped Charleigh clean up the prep table and organize her new inventory from the back that didn’t require refrigeration. As I carried handfuls of black tins, she filled me in on how she’s experimenting with selling products other than flowers, working on tying them into the full floral aesthetic she has going on in the store. Along with the white ship lapped walls and buckets of floral arrangements in every corner, I think it fits from a business perspective. After stacking the tins of candles on a small table near the front of the store, Charleigh locks up the shop, and I offer to take her back to my place for dinner.
I’m nervous when I shouldn’t be, but that’s how Charleigh’s always made me feel. She’s incredibly out of my league. Always has been. My stomach grumbles, and I silently pray she agrees.
Her stomach growls, too, and she laughs, hiding her embarrassment by covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my God.” She groans into her hands before lowering them. “I didn’t realize I haven’t taken a minute to eat all day. I’m surprised the one shot of vodka I had with the girls earlier didn’t knock me on my ass considering my tolerance for alcohol is basically non-existent. Especially when it comes to an empty stomach. ”
I lift my eyebrows. “So, that’s a yes, then?”
“Absolutely.” She beams, and I feel like I’m a fucking teenager again passing a note over Charleigh’s shoulder.
On the drive over, I call my personal chef and ask him if he doesn’t mind whipping up something for us to eat before he heads out for the day. After ending the call, I slide closer to Charleigh in the back seat and don’t take my hands off her until I’m forced to when my driver pulls up in front of my building.
Charleigh dips her head down, eyeing the building from inside the car, looking past me. She leans forward and presses her hands to my thighs, trying to get a better view of the skyscraper in front of us. I can’t keep my eyes off her. She steals my breath, and her mouth falls open.
“What is it?” I ask.
“In the ten years I’ve lived in New York, I’ve never ventured to this part of the city.”
“Really?”
She turns to look at me. “Well, yeah, this is the more glamorous side, where the richest investors and mega brokers of Wall Street live. At least that’s what I’ve heard. A far cry from the likes of an almost-thirty-something flower shop owner.”
I give Charleigh a nervous smile, hoping she isn’t judging me for my lifestyle now. In a way, it’s as if we’ve swapped places. Not that Charleigh is as broke as my mother and I were growing up. Charleigh’s apartment is incredible, located in a great part of the city, where every building is made of one hundred-year-old brick, and there are wrought iron railings adorning the front steps.
My driver opens my door, and I step out, holding my hand out from Charleigh’s. She takes it and doesn’t let go. With our fingers entwined, she follows me inside the building, pushing through the bronze revolving door.
The front lobby is massive, with marble floors stretching all the way to the back. Walking beside me, Charleigh gazes at the lobby, wide-eyed.
I give Chuck, the doorman, a quick wave in greeting, and lead us to the elevator.
When the doors slide open, I pull Charleigh inside and press the button to my apartment at the top floor. I’m quick to push her against the wall. I can’t help it.
“Asher,” she whispers when my nose meets her neck. She bends it, allowing me more access. I breathe in, burying my face deeper into her neck. My lips meet the hollow of her ear, and my body is pulsing, the sensation making my cock spring to life.
“I’ve always loved the way you smell,” I hum against her skin. “Like you’ve been digging in the garden all day.”
“Have I always smelled like this?” She giggles, grabbing my hand and placing it between her hot, wanting thighs. She presses my fingers against her already swollen clit, and I want to pinch myself that this is really happening.
“Yes,” I growl, thinking back to her apartment and her shop. Even to the little flowers she kept pressed between the pages of her history textbook. “Like a million fucking flowers.”
“Hmm,” she moans, pressing my fingers harder against her clit. I love how eager she is. “I’m glad my scent is so memorable.”
I kiss her behind her ear, and she shivers beneath me. I’ve barely moved my fingers, but I can already tell she’s about to come. With my fingers pressed to her clit, I wrap my other hand around her neck. Her body shudders underneath mine, and she grips my shoulder. She’s gasping for air when she stiffens, coming all over my fingers. Fuck, I wish we had more time in this elevator. I don’t even care if Frank the security guard is watching the security cameras and sees what we’re doing. But I’m fucking starving, and I want to spend more time with Charleigh. I want to enjoy this before she somehow disappears and slips through my fingers.
I haven’t told her about Cyrus coming to see me this afternoon, or the threat he made to expose me, whatever the fuck that meant. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it and, honestly, I’m convincing myself he isn’t serious. Cyrus wouldn’t risk playing with me when I’ve proven myself to be true competition in this city.
For now, I want to focus on the woman who has always turned my world upside down.
“Oh, Little Flower,” I whisper against her hot skin. “What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing.” She breathes out. “I’m simply doing what I’ve always done.”
“No.” I shake my head as I move my hand from the pulse in her neck to her chin. “You’re doing something to me.” I grip onto it and steal her breath with my mouth.
She moans, and her body melts into mine. She wraps her hands around the back of my head, keeping my mouth pressed to hers. My cock twitches, but I tell it to calm down, at least until I get some food in my stomach.
When the elevator dings and the doors open, I wrap my hand around Charleigh’s again, leading her into my home.
“Come on.” I drop her hand and remove my suit jacket, tossing it onto the sofa lining the front entrance. “I’m starving.”
Charleigh stops and doesn’t walk any farther inside, instead looking around my place with intrigue.
The floors are covered in a deep brown hardwood. Thick wooden beams stretch across the ceiling.
She gazes at my place, tentatively taking one step, then another. There’s a large kitchen opening up to the living space. Set on the dining room table are two plates filled with steak, asparagus, and some kind of roasted potatoes. Two glasses of red wine are also set out. I look around, wondering if my private chef is still here, but the blue kitchen towel is folded on the counter next to the stove—a clear indication he’s gone for the night.
The apartment is dark, with only the bit of light coming from the undercabinet lighting in the kitchen and a few lamps scattered around the main living area. I stand by the dining room table, studying our plates, expecting Charleigh to want to sit down and eat, but she doesn’t. She’s too wrapped up with the size and look of my place.
I cross my arms and watch her, unable to wipe the smile off my face.
When she spots the tall floor-to-ceiling glass windows lining the entire floor, she walks across the room until she’s only inches from them.
I join her and stand beside her.
“Your place is…” She pauses, taking a breath as she presses her whole hand to her chest. “Your place is incredible. I’ve never seen the city from this view.”
“It’s my father’s place, actually.”
“Really?” She snaps her head in my direction.
“Yes.” I nod, pressing my hand to the glass and gazing down at the city.
“Your father used to live here?” she asks. “He wasn’t always in California?”
I’m assuming she’s guessing based on the last note I ever left her, given that I never talked about my dad before I moved to live with him, and the time I carried her down the stairs after I’d shared a slice of my life back in California.
“No, he’s a New Yorker, actually,” I tell her, feeling myself open up to her in a way I never do with anyone else. “I didn’t know this until I left to live with him, but he used to work in the city… as a real estate executive for one of the brokers on Wall Street. ”
“What?” She turns to face me and crosses her arms over her chest. “He was in real estate, too?”
“The night of the fire, my mother told me something.” I scratch at the stubble lining my chin. I hate talking about my mother sometimes. A wave of guilt always follows the memories. Especially the ones where she’d look at me with empty, bloodshot eyes. “It didn’t make sense at the time, but later, after I moved to California, my father told me the story of how they met.”
Charleigh’s delicate neck bobs as she swallows. This is the first time I feel myself opening up to her completely.
Fire spreads across my chest, and instinct tells me not to continue, but then I look into Charleigh’s eyes and fall for her all over again. She’s the only person on this earth who has ever truly seen me.
“Before I came to your house that night…” I stop, emotion swelling inside me. “The night your dad found us, before I snuck into your bedroom, I had an argument with my mother. She was nearly black out drunk or high on some kind of drug. I doubt she was clearheaded about anything she was saying, but she mentioned my father living here on Wall Street, in this apartment.” I look around, taking it all in. Pieces of my dad still linger. Large pieces of art hang on every wall. Each surface is appointed with care and precision, just how his home is back in California.
“So, how did they meet?” Charleigh asks.
“I didn’t know until I went to live with him, but he and my mother met when she worked at one of the restaurants down the street. Every day, he would go in for coffee, buying enough to supply each of his coworkers. At that time, he was an intern for one of the firms. After a couple weeks, he gathered the nerve to ask her out on a date, and it wasn’t long before their relationship grew. He fell for her fast and found himself stuck between building his career and building a life with her. He wanted both, but the more time he spent climbing the corporate ladder, the more my mother grew paranoid. Eventually, her paranoia got the better of her, and no matter what my father did, she wouldn’t change her mind.” I rake my fingers through my hair, shoving it off my forehead.
I sit on the bench of the grand piano set in the middle of the room. “My mother told me my father lied to her; said he wanted nothing to do with her when she told him she was pregnant with me. But that wasn’t true, Charleigh.”
Her eyes well with tears as she slowly walks toward me. I part my legs, and she settles between my thighs, standing in front of me as she cradles my face with her small hands and pulls me up to gaze at her. I place both of my hands on the small of her back, slipping them under her sweater to feel her skin.
“What was the truth?” she asks softly.
“After I moved to California, my father never went out of his way to tell me the truth. In his eyes, he wanted to build our relationship organically and not dwell on the past. But after a while, I remembered what my mom had told me, and I was dying to know. One day, after one of our surfing sessions, he finally broke down and told me. My mother didn’t tell my father she was pregnant with me until he had decided to leave the city after they split. He didn’t find out about me until I was two years old. She wrote him a letter, explaining that she had a child and needed his support money. He showed me the letter. He stepped up, offering to help in any way he could. She only ever wanted the money, never intending on letting me see him. You know, my father said he tried to reach out to me every week. He’d call, but my mother always ignored him, or when she did answer, she’d tell him I didn’t want to speak to him. He sent child support, but she never used it on me. That’s how she was always able to afford to pay for her drugs and her drinking habit. Unless she’d run out, then she would go snooping through my shit for money. He asked time and time again for me to fly out to visit him for the summer, but my mother never allowed it.”
“He never took her to court over it?” Her eyebrows pull together.
“No.” I frown. “I never asked him why he didn’t, but I think he assumed I was living a good life. Maybe he didn’t want to rip me away from the only home I’d ever known.”
She runs her thumb under my eye.
“I don’t hold it against him, though,” I say, softly. “He was good to me when I did move with him, and I think if I had left her before, she would have died sooner.”
“Do you still have a good relationship with him? He called you this morning.”
“I do.” I smile weakly, though sadness consumes me. I try not to think of my father’s illness often, although I care deeply. It’s tough to continue business when all I can think about is him. “He’s, um…” I can’t get the words out easily, never having spoken of it out loud to anyone other than my father. “He’s dying of cancer. I’ve told him I want to be there for him, but he insists I continue to work. He says that’s all he wants for me, so that’s why I’m not there.”
“Oh, Asher.” She kisses me, then wraps her arms around my body, pulling me to her. I press my head to her chest, listening to her heartbeat while trying not to cry. I hold my tears in as she runs her hands through my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
She loosens her grip around me and places her hands on my shoulders, but I immediately catch the sadness in her eyes. They cloud over like a storm in the horizon.
Inhaling an unsteady breath, Charleigh’s chin wobbles, and the city lights catch the tears lining her lashes.
I run the back of my hand down the length of her face. “What is it? ”
“I’m just…” She gulps. “I’m just thankful your dad turned out to be a good person, and I hate knowing that he’s suffering. I spent years wondering if you were okay, so it makes me happy knowing he turned out to be great. It’s as if sickness always consumes and steals away the best people. My trust in father figures isn’t exactly stellar.”
She looks away, and I draw her attention back when I wrap my arms around her again, pulling her to me.
“I read what happened to your dad and his business.” I clear my throat. “I’m so sorry, Charleigh.”
She nods and sniffs. “After you left, I was crushed.”
Her broken-hearted stare rips me apart. The pain is still clear in her expression. The echoes of our past are still alive, its beating heart thrumming between us.
I make a conscious effort to hold myself together, focusing on my breathing as Charleigh continues.
“All my plans were destroyed that night I watched you walk out my door.” A tear spills over and slides down her cheek. “I just stared at the empty doorway, willing you to come back. I couldn’t look at my father or how your blood dripped from his fist. He turned to me with fury and threatened me to not disappoint him again before storming out of my bedroom. Our relationship changed that night. I kept my head down for the remainder of my time at home, mostly because I didn’t have the strength to look up. I was a withered soul, broken and lost. You were the one person I felt who saw me, and when you left, there was no one.” Charleigh shrugs, emotion building inside her. “My mother never spoke of that night again. She went about her life as if we lived in some alternate universe, like a Stepford Wife. Like she did every day when she found out about my father’s affairs and lies, even if it hurt her. The deal was sealed on me holding out hope I could turn to her for anything. I knew I couldn’t. ”
I wipe her tear away, wishing I could erase the pain. Regret settles in my bones.
“What happened when you went to NYU?” I ask.
“When the news broke of his bankruptcy, my hope of going to NYU dissolved. My father came home and told me he wasn’t paying for me to go to school anymore. All our money was gone.” Her voice fades, nearing a whisper. She shakes her head, blinking away the tears. “
“I left for the city as soon as I could,” she continues. “I realized my mother was never going to change. She would pick my father over and over again. So, when I left, I left them both and my life behind. I wish I could say it was an easy decision, but it doesn’t matter how much hatred you hold for someone, letting them go can still be difficult. It’s more like I’ve resigned myself to disappointment and regret. Disappointment wishing it could have been something different. Regret it had to come to this, where we live in a world as complete strangers. My mother messages me all the time, hoping one day I’ll change my mind.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Ironic, considering she’ll never change her mind about my dad.”
She inhales a deep, cleansing breath, her eyes brightening slightly. “Anyway, as soon as I could, I packed everything I owned into two overnight bags and took the train to Grand Central. Found a job working for a florist near NYU and stayed in the apartment above the shop. My father never paid a dime for my tuition, and I scrambled to apply for student loans. I pressed on despite my family’s reputation. Didn’t matter, anyway. In a city of eight million, I wasn’t anyone of significance. Between classes and work, it wasn’t easy to balance, and most days I wasn’t sure I’d make it past sophomore year.” She shrugs. “But here I am.”
After sliding my hands down her body and to the back of her legs, I pull her up for her to my lap. She straddles me on the piano bench, pressing herself as close as she can get. I hold her against me, wrapping my arms around her, not wanting to let her go.
“You are the strongest, most resilient person I’ve ever known,” I tell her, meaning every word. My chest expands, and it’s as if I’ve been holding my breath for the last ten years. The barbed wire I’ve kept wrapped around my heart unravels.
Charleigh shakes her head slowly. “I was only trying to survive.”
“No. You were living, Little Flower. You continued to breathe and live and turn your dream into your reality.”
Her eyes search my face. “And you did the same.”
She smiles, pulling me closer. When she brings her mouth to mine, I smile against it.
“I have a confession,” I mutter.
“What is that?”
“I’m falling for you all over again, Little Flower.”
She chuckles and teases my mouth. “I must warn you, Mr. Egan, I’m falling for you, too.”
I flatline. My heart stops beating, and it isn’t until she kisses me does it start again. Her soft mouth warms my soul. Charleigh has brought me back from the dead. She’s painted my world with her flowers, brightly-colored clothes, and goodness. She’s moral and pure. I don’t deserve her when all I’ve brought to her world is pain and chaos.
But for the first time, no one is standing in our way. Not my mother. Not her father.
It’s just us.
She rolls her hips and rubs her center over me. I already know she’s bare under her skirt and, fuck me, it drives me wild. My cock swells and my stomach tightens. Chills slither down my legs, and my stomach still grumbles.
“We haven’t even touched our food,” Charleigh teases .
“You’re right.” I raise her arms above her head and remove her sweater, then unclasp her bra. Arching her back, she looks up to the ceiling. I pinch her nipple, flicking my thumb over the hardened pebble before bringing it to my mouth. She moans, and I’ve never felt closer to her than I do now.
I pull her nipple into my mouth and suck on it before snapping it back. “I’m fucking starving.”