The thought terrifies me almost as much as it excites me.
“Chief, you look terrible.”
I glance up from my desk to find Asher in my office doorway, two coffees in hand. He sets one in front of me—black, no sugar, the way I’ve taken it since before he was born—and settles into the chair across from me.
“Rough night,” I admit, accepting the coffee gratefully. “Working on a project.”
“The Valentine’s festival?” His tone is carefully neutral, but there’s something in his expression. Curiosity, maybe. Or hope.
My hand tightens on the coffee cup. “Among other things.”
“Mads mentioned she saw you and my mom at Twin Waves yesterday.” He takes a sip of his own coffee, watching me over the rim. “Said you two looked pretty cozy.”
Here it comes. The awkward conversation. The territorial son protecting his mother. The professional boundary I’m about to be reminded exists.
“We were discussing the festival,” I say, which is technically true even if it’s wildly incomplete.
“Uh-huh.” Asher sets down his coffee. “Chief, can I talk to you? Off the record?”
I nod, bracing myself.
“My mom deserves to be happy.” The words come out firm. Direct. “She’s been alone since my dad left. Seven years of putting everyone else first—me, the boutique, the community. Never dated. Never even seemed interested.”
“Asher—”
“But yesterday, when Mads FaceTimed me from the coffee shop?” He leans forward, and there’s something fierce in his eyes. Something protective and approving simultaneously. “My mom was smiling. Really smiling. The kind of smile I haven’t seen since before the divorce.”
My chest tightens. “Your mother is an impressive woman.”
“She is. And if someone makes her smile like that?” Asher holds my gaze. “Well, that someone would be pretty special. Would be someone I’d want in her life. In our lives.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “Are you saying…”
“I’m saying my mom deserves happiness. And you’re a good man, Chief. One of the best I know.” He stands, heads for the door, then pauses. “If something were to develop between you two, I’d be honored to have you in our family.”
He’s gone before I can respond, leaving me staring after him with something hot and overwhelming building in my chest.
Asher’s blessing. I have Asher’s blessing.
The weight I didn’t fully realize I was carrying lifts, but it’s immediately replaced by something heavier. Because now there’s no excuse. No external barrier saying this is impossible or inappropriate.
Just me and my fears.
What if I hurt her? What if I’m too broken, too rigid, too stuck in my grief to give her what she needs? What if she deserves someone lighter, easier, someone who doesn’t wake up at three a.m. to obsess over fire codes?
What if I’m not enough?
I look down at the plans I’ve been drafting. Detailed diagrams showing traffic patterns, occupancy loads, permit requirements. Decorating suggestions I have no business including but couldn’t help adding because I kept imagining her face when she sees them.
Professional documents that are anything but professional because they’re a love letter disguised as fire safety compliance.
My phone rings. Savannah’s face fills the screen.
“Dad, I’m on break. Tell me why you’ve called me three times in two days when usually I’m lucky to hear from you once a week.”
“You’re the one who called me.”
“Yeah, I’m calling you back after you’ve bombarded my phone.”
