Chapter 54
GRACE
October brings falling leaves and a crisp autumn chill. I switch to a hot latte to warm up and settle into my normal booth.
Moments later, I'm hunched over my laptop, trying to work on my book, but my focus is elsewhere. My eyes shoot to the door every time the bell chimes. He wasn’t waiting for me today, and I wonder if that means he’s given up or if he’ll be coming later.
The scent of espresso and warm pastries wrap around me, familiar and soothing, yet my nerves are a live wire. I'm not sure if I'm dreading Asher's arrival or hoping for it.
When the bell jingles again, my head snaps up on instinct.
This time, it is him. Pushing through the door with his quiet, commanding presence that still tugs at something raw in me.
Today, he's wearing a dark gray coat that looks more tailored and sophisticated than what most people wear in this town.
There's a black beanie on his head, though, and when he pulls it off to stuff it in his coat pocket, it messes up his hair and reminds me of nights where my fingers ran through the chestnut locks.
His steel-gray eyes find me instantly, cutting through the morning crowd of locals sipping their coffees and skimming newspapers. My pulse kicks up, a traitor to the walls I’ve been rebuilding, as he heads straight for my table.
"Grace," he greets, voice low and hopeful, stopping a few feet away like he's testing the boundary. He stands there, hands in his pockets, the faintest shadow of stubble along his sharp jaw.
I straighten in my chair, crossing my arms over my worn sweater, my fingers digging into the soft fabric as if it can shield me from the pull of him.
“Asher.” My tone comes out clipped, a defense mechanism, but I gesture to the empty seat across from me before I can second-guess myself. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
His eyebrows lift just a fraction, surprise flickering in those gray depths, but he nods and slides into the chair with a grace that shouldn’t belong in a creaky coffee shop seat.
Up close, I catch the faint whiff of cedar and sea salt, a scent that drags up too many memories of tangled sheets and blissful orgasms. I shove them down, focusing on the scuff marks on the table instead of the way his gaze searches mine.
“Alright…” I start, forcing my voice to hold steady, though my hands fidget beneath the table’s edge.
“You’ve been showing up, bringing me coffee, sticking around in a town you don’t belong in.
I get it, you regret what happened. I heard your apology, and I appreciate your thoughtful notes.
But I’ve spent day after day putting myself back together after you broke me apart.
So tell me why I should even consider giving you another second of my time. ”
Asher leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his hands clasping together as if to keep them still.
His jaw works for a moment, a rare hesitance crossing his face before he speaks.
“Because I was wrong, Grace. Not just in how I ended things, but in thinking I could control what we had, box it into something temporary. I pushed you away because I was scared that I would hurt you again. That being with me would be a lifelong sentence of pain for you. It wasn't because I didn’t feel it. I felt every damn thing. And I’ve been empty since you left.
I’m not asking for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it yet.
I’m asking for a chance to show you I’ve changed. ”
His words carve into me, each one a sharp edge against the scar tissue I’ve built.
I bite my lip, tasting the bitter tang of doubt, and look away, out the window at the dusty sidewalk where life rolls on, oblivious.
My chest aches with the memory of his cold dismissal, that Paid in Full stamp on our contract, but there’s a tremor of something else too.
Hope, like I saw in his eyes. Or maybe just the ghost of what we were.
I turn back, meeting his gaze, finding an unguarded rawness there that I haven’t seen in so long.
“One date,” I say finally, the words slipping out before my brain catches up, quiet but firm.
A flicker of relief, maybe even a spark of that old intensity, flashes across his face. He nods slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, not quite a smile but close.
My hands unclench under the table, trembling just a little as I press on. “That’s it, Asher. One date to prove you’re not just chasing a memory or some guilt-driven redemption. If it feels like a lie, or if I can’t trust what I see, we’re done. For good. Understand?”
“I understand. One date. I’ll take it.”
I don’t respond, just give a small nod and pick up my latte, the warm cup calming me as I take a sip. The caramel sweetness hits my tongue, but my focus stays on him, on the weight of this decision settling between us.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, seven p.m., does that work for you?”
I swallow roughly. “Sure.”
He nods, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I see the glimmer of a smile on his cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sugar.”
Nervous energy flutters inside me, which is strange because it's not like this is our first date. He is my husband, after all. Granted, our relationship didn't start out with dates.
Asher arrives at seven p.m. sharp, dressed in that same winter coat and black hat. I slip into my snow boots and parka with my rainbow beanie that I know he hates.
"Ready?" His voice carries that familiar command, but softer somehow.
I nod, stepping out into the cold evening air, snow crunching under our boots.
I expect him to lead me to the black SUV that's parked in my parents’ driveway, but he doesn't. Instead, he stops once we're outside the house and pulls something from his pocket.
Long black silk, like the ones he used to restrain me at Haven all those months ago.
"Do you trust me?" he asks, and I see the anticipation in his eyes, wondering if I'm willing to give him this little bit.
It feels like a big ask, even though I know logically it's not the same as jumping into a submission contract with him, but still, I worry if I take this step I won't be able to come back.
"You can use your safe word," he says softly. "If it gets to be too much at any point. I don't plan on—" He stumbles over his words in a way that I've never witnessed. "I don't plan on us having sex, just to be clear. But you can use your safe word if you need, for any reason. Okay?"
I nod, warming inside. "Okay, I trust you."
He steps forward, turning me around and covering my eyes with the silk.
He still doesn't lead me to the car, instead he takes my hand in his and we start walking. He can't be planning on taking me off my parents’ property by foot; it'd be too long a walk.
"Where are we going?" I ask, confused.
"You'll see."
With my eyes covered, my other senses kick into overdrive. I hear the wind howling through the trees, the cold air nipping at my cheeks, and I smell smoke.
When Asher pulls off my blindfold, a soft gasp escapes my lips.
Fairy lights are strung between the trees, casting a warm glow across the snow.
The fire pit that's a staple of my childhood memories is glowing with a bonfire.
Blankets and pillows are gathered on the other side of it, a cozy little spot to sit and watch the fire.
And a thermos sits on a flat rock near the fire.
It's perfect.
"I can't believe you did this," I say, moving toward the blankets and pillows.
"Your mom helped me set this up earlier," he admits, and something in my chest warms at the image of Asher Caine asking my mother for help.
“You talked to my mom?”
“Yeah.” There’s a nervous energy about him, something I’ve never seen in him before. He’s always been confident and collected, but right now, he seems like he’s trying to impress me. “I wanted to explain everything to her and apologize for…hurting her daughter.”
My heart skips a beat. “That’s…oddly sweet.”
"Sit with me." He gestures to the blanket.
I settle in, and he drapes a thick blanket over both our laps before pouring steaming liquid into two metal cups.
"Spiced apple cider," he says, handing me one. "Your mom said it's your favorite."
The warmth seeps into my frozen fingers as I cradle the cup. We sit in silence for a moment, watching the flames dance.
"How’s writing been going?" he asks between sips of his cider.
"I’m almost finished with my book," I tell him, a smile pulling at my lips.
His eyes find mine in the firelight. "That’s amazing. I’m proud of you.” Then a ghost of a smile crosses his face, a little mischief there. "How many orgasms do I owe you for that?"
The familiar joke catches me off guard. A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it, and suddenly I'm smiling, really smiling, for the first time since he showed up in Cedar Falls. I missed this, being with him.
And suddenly, I don’t want to hold back anymore for fear of getting my heart broken again. I want to be honest with him and enjoy this moment, and if more comes of it, if he’s able to prove himself to me, I’ll be ready to move forward.
"I missed this," I admit on a whisper. “Us.”
"I did too." He shifts closer, our shoulders touching through the layers of winter coats.
"How's work?" I ask, trying not to let my voice crack on the word. I can't shake the feeling that he chose his family company over me, but I knew that was the plan, so it should bother me. My mind has been swirling over those thoughts since he left me.
"I quit."
For a moment, I’m frozen in shock, thinking I misheard, but the serious look on his face proves me wrong.
I blink. "What?"
Asher inhales and exhales a long breath. "I quit, Grace.”
Shock ripples through me. "What? Why? When did this happen?"
“A few weeks ago, before I came out here.”
“Is it because I told you what Rich–”
“No. It’s not because of you,” he cuts me off.
“Well, it is, but it’s because I finally realized my father is a monster.
I mean, I knew that, but he’s so much worse than I could have imagined, and your accident really snapped me out of it.
I’ve been working for so long to prove myself to him.
I thought if I just got the right degrees, did the right things, get married like he wanted, that I would finally be good enough for him.
” He chuckles low, but it’s a sad sound.
“But I was never going to be good enough for him. And the only thing he cares about is himself. So I quit and asked myself what I really want in life. I flew here that night. I even came to your house, ready to drop to my knees and apologize, but…I realized I didn’t know what to say, so I checked into a bed-and-breakfast instead and have been staying there, working on myself.
I found a therapist in town and started sorting through all my shit.
I know I have a lot more work to do. I know my family wasn’t right for a lot of the stuff they did.
And I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But I want to work on it.
I want to be a better man for myself, but also, because I want to be the man that you deserve. ”
I’m taken aback by his words. He’s been here for weeks? He found a therapist? But mostly, he wants to be the man that I deserve.
"Wow… I-I don’t know what to say." My voice is breathy, my heart pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest to get to him.
He smiles, and it reminds me of all the good moments between us. The times when it felt real, not an act we were putting on for our families. His gray eyes lock onto mine, intense and unwavering.
"Say you’ll give me a second chance. That’s all I want, Sugar. You’re all I want. Just a chance to prove to you that I’ve changed.”