Chapter Thirty Six - Asher
A Day Later
Sydney just never stops moving, there’s a car horn here and bike bell there.
People scurrying around one another without so much as a glance up from their phones.
It’s our last day here and I can’t say I’ll be sad to see the back of this city, I never am.
Get me back to Dawson’s Ridge and the local coffee shop - Lucy’s, where everybody knows everybody.
I reckon the old lady that works behind the counter—Mrs Peach—knows the whole town’s order off by heart.
Scarlett and I are sitting in the least busy café we could find.
It does remind me a little of Lucy’s back home in Dawson’s same exposed wood style ceiling and décor vibe—they’ve got a little section of fine cakes and fresh flowers on one side and a second hand book shop on the other—we’ve got a window seat and I’m trying to imagine the view off the main strip out Lucy’s window where you can see the mountains and feel the sunshine hit your cheeks.
I look over to the only beauty I know Sydney has to offer right now.
Her. Scarlett’s chewing on the edge of her straw like she’s got something to say, and I’m not sure I want to hear it.
Last night I knew she didn’t finish saying what she wanted to and well there wasn’t much talking going on once the dress came off, so the opportunity never really arose again.
These last few weeks being able to call her mine has been bliss, nothing could ruin that now.
Brunch has been silent though, well besides the sounds of the outside world and the pure overstimulation that is Sydney peak hour traffic.
I’ve sipped my cappuccino without more than a few words and Scarlett’s been drinking her matcha working away on her phone—she practically skulled her caramel latte before that.
She was fitting in for a small while there, can take the girl out of the city but can’t take the city out of the girl.
She doesn’t look at me when she finally does decide to grace me with some conversation.
“I’m taking a contract here,” she says. “Three months. A client expansion for Maroon Management, this small agent is folding in and are giving me the chance to retain some of their lower-level clients.”
Wait what, I’ve got whiplash.
It takes me a second to register the words.
Three months.
Here. As in Sydney. Suddenly the car horns, the unruly traffic, and the rude passers by have gone to a still silence.
“Oh.” It’s all I can get out. She’s knocked me back, that was the last sentence I thought would come out of her mouth after the past few months and after last night.
She looks down. “It’s a good opportunity. Shell’s taking the lead at The Ridgebacks while I’m gone, but if I’m going to expand the way I need to then I need to spend a little time here, but it’ll only be 3 months.”
I nod slowly, heart thudding. “Okay. We’ll make it work, that’s easy.” My words are anything but convincing and I know she heard that. The shake in my voice, the break in my tone. How could we possibly make it work when I’ll be training 24/7.
She winces—just barely. “Asher…”
And suddenly I know. I’m about to lose the best thing I’ve ever had to the worst place I’ve ever lived.
This isn’t a conversation. It’s a goodbye for now dressed up as logistics. She’s gone manager mode on me. Bring back my Scar.
“You’re not asking me to wait,” I say quietly.
She finally looks at me. Her eyes are glassy, but firm.
“I can’t ask you to come back and forth.
You said it yourself—you’re not coming back here.
And I believe you. I respect that. With your schedule and football and my work, the timing is just not right.
You’re about to have one of the biggest seasons of your life Ash, I’ll still be your manager, I just can’t be any more right now. ”
I laugh under my breath, bitter. “So, you’re doing the noble thing. Letting me go for my own good, how selfless of you.” I know this is the only way for now, but I’m still allowed to be fucking pissed.
“I’m doing what I think is right, yes for both of us.
We are both at big turning points,” she says, her voice cracking.
“I love you, Asher. But I need to know who I am in this industry, and I need to get a solid foundation so we can have a future and I’m not just a WAG.
I’ve worked too hard to just be the football star’s girlfriend. ”
My mouth opens. Closes. I could fight her. I could beg. But the part of me that’s always known this day might come—he’s already folding in on himself.
“I won’t stop loving you, time isn’t going to change that, and I’ll be waiting for you,” I say, standing.
“Then don’t,” she whispers. “I’m not saying this is the end of us, I’m just saying we need time, it’s 3 months” she reaches her arm out to grab me.
I need to get the fuck out here; the walls are closing in on me and I’ve lost another thing to Sydney. Another person I love.
I walk out of that café and feel the weight of the city settle back onto my shoulders like a curse. I want to scream, add to the chaos but I’m not sure in a city like this anyone would even care.
I know she’s right. I’m about to take off and so is she. But why does she need to do that here? Without me.