I’ve never felt better—until now.
Until my eyes light up meeting his brown ones, framed by sexy glasses, full of life and never leaving mine. Until his smile reaches the corner of his eyes, and little lines of a life well lived come to the surface. Because with Asher standing at my door with two giant bags, his mustache, beard, and hair sprinkled with grays that make him look even better, I’m so happy, I don’t even know what to do with myself.
“Hales,” he whispers with such joy behind his words, it reaches my toes. I forget words and rhyme and reason. I forget time. I forget it all.
“See, I told you Daddy was coming.” I close the space between us, giving him a quick peck on his lips. “Hi.”
He smiles wider, pulling us tight to his body. “Let me bring the bags in and wash my hands so I can pick him up, yeah?”
I follow him inside, waiting for him to do just that, while I bounce Cash in my arms.
“Come here, little one. I’ve missed you.”
He takes Cash, brushing his fingers over my skin and leaving the trace of cardamom behind. I’ve known Asher for six years now, and I’m still not over the fact that he smells like coffee on an early morning or spicy tea before reading your favorite book. Maybe it was his scent that made me fall in love this hard for him, or maybe the way he talks to me, or how he doesn’t trust his heart to anyone, but he trusted it to me.
And definitely the glasses. They do it for me, every time.
He sits in the corner of the living room and pats the spot next to him. Another New Year’s Eve next to him, maybe the last one we’ll be apart. I transitioned out of the hospital and have been working selling soaps, lotions, and candles locally. I can do that from Alaska, right? At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I can’t do this long distance thing anymore, even if I’ll miss everyone here with all my heart. I guess I’m destined to miss someone at all times—him if I’m here, and them if I’m there—but I refuse to ask him to give up his true love, rescuing, just to move here with me.
“I have a question for you,” Asher says, not lifting his gaze from his son.
I sit across from him and cross my legs, waiting for whatever it is he wants to tell me. “I might have an answer.”
“You know how every year on my birthday, you’ve never asked me about what I want as a gift, but you always have something for me?”
Well, that’s because in the second year we were together, he told me he has never gotten a gift just for him or that he never asked for. He said he had never been surprised by anything, and how sad is that? So, every year, I’ve made it my mission to give him something that reminds me of him, even if small, but a surprise, nonetheless.
I nod, brushing my bangs off my face. “I’m sorry. I thought you liked those.”
His smile widens. “What have we said about apologizing?” I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Stop being a brat and tell me.”
“We don’t apologize for existing.” I swear, he and my therapist are conspiring against me. Or in favor of me, I guess.
His gaze flickers between our son and me. “I love that you do that. It makes me feel special because you took time out of your busy day to get something for me, but this year, I want to ask for something specific.”
My fingers gently trace the seam of the chair. “It might be hard to find on short notice, but I can definitely try. What is it?”
“I want to be your husband.”
The words rattle me like windows in a storm. “What?”
His laughter breaks through the emotional rollercoaster in my brain. “Look who’s sticking to the monosyllabic words now.”
I laugh at that. It’s incredible how his words and his presence can make me feel at ease, and judging by how calm Cash is, I think he feels it too. Asher is so good for our nervous systems. But wait—back to the question at hand.
“You said you wanted something specific for your birthday.”
He nods.
“But then you said?—”
“That I want to be your husband.” He interrupts.
My breath catches in my throat. “You can’t just come in here and tell me you want to be my husband.”
He shrugs. “I mean I could ask you to be my wife if you’d prefer, but I really want you to know how much I’m already yours, how much I crave to be your husband. It’s beyond a want. It’s a need.”
