I step back, heat creeping up my neck, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my oversized sweater. The coffee shop buzz dims, the other patrons’ chatter fading to a distant hum as I grapple with the sight of him here, in my safe space.
“What are you doing here?” My tone is clipped, defensive, as I cross my arms over my chest, trying to shield the raw edges he always manages to uncover.
Asher straightens, discarding the napkin in a bin, his posture as commanding as ever, even in this cramped, cozy corner of my world. His chestnut hair catches the light, a little less perfect than I remember, strands falling over his forehead like he’s been running his hands through it.
“I wanted to see you, Sugar.”
I wince at the endearment. It takes me back in time, to when I was his and he was mine. But that’s not what we are anymore. He ended things.
Swallowing down any emotion, I shake my head. “Well, I don’t want to see you.” I move to turn away, but he reaches out, his hand landing on my forearm. I thought I’ve gotten better, but as soon as he touches me, I’m a weak woman, wanting to curl into him and let him hold me.
“I just want to talk,” he says softly, but I yank my arm from his grasp before I can do something foolish. “Grace, I owe you more than I can put into words. I was an idiot. A complete, utter fool for pushing you away like I did.” His voice is rough at the edges, lacking its usual polished command. “I thought I was protecting you, keeping things clean by ending it. But I was wrong. I hurt you in ways I can’t forgive myself for, and I’ve spent every day since regretting it.”
His words hang heavy in the cool air, each one a pebble dropped into the well of pain I’ve been carrying. My chest tightens, remembering that moment he told me the contract was done. A million dollars in my bank account I've yet to touch.
He opens his mouth again, another apology coming out, more apologies than I think he's ever made.
“Asher, stop.” My voice cuts through his, but I can’t let him keep going, can’t let those words burrow deeper. I force my gaze to meet his, though it stings to see the regret swimming in those gray depths. “You broke my heart. You didn’t just end things; you made me feel like I was nothing, like every moment we shared was a lie you could erase with a bank transfer. I trusted you with everything, and you tore that apart. I heard you out, okay? I get that you’re sorry. But I can’t trust you anymore. I don’t know if I ever will again.”
His jaw tightens, a faint tic of muscle showing how affected he is. He straightens, hand dropping to his side, and for a long beat, the only sound is our breathing.
Asher’s gaze doesn’t waver, though, searching mine as if he can find a crack to slip through, a way to mend what’s shattered. But the pieces are too jagged, the hurt too deep, and I’m not sure there’s enough left of me to even try.
I don’t go back to the Sweet Bean the next day, but on the following day, I talk myself into it. It’smyfavorite coffee shop inmyhometown. Why am I hiding from him?
My feet stall right after entry, though, when I look at my usual table, finding Asher sitting there. One iced caramel latte in front of him and a second coffee in a to-go cup.
He stands when he sees me, gesturing to the table.
He's more dressed down than I've ever seen him. Just a simple gray sweatshirt and jeans that somehow make him look more human. My stomach twists, bracing for another plea, but he just walks to me.
“For your writing,” he says, voice quiet, almost gruff, before walking past me, the door swinging shut behind him. I stare at the cup, condensation beading on the plastic, my fingers hovering over the lid.
I blow out a breath as I sit down at the booth. When I pick up the cup, I realize he’s written something on the napkin beneath it.
Caramel latte, since I know that’s your favorite. Have a good writing day. -Asher
I pick up and leave, too flustered to write, instead going home and binging Netflix. I try again the next day, finding him sitting at my table again, coffee waiting for me, another note tucked under the cup and a cookie laying on a napkin beside it. He nods at me as he leaves, and I wait until he’s gone to read the note. I try to tame how my stomach flutters, but it’s impossible.
You’re the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. Hopefully this chocolate chip cookie can compare to your favorite place in the city. -Asher
P.S. I finally tried one, by the way. It was delicious. Just not my kind of sugar.
One sentence, and my body flushes hot. I eat the cookie in less than a minute, trying to distract myself from my wandering thoughts.
It happens again the next day.
I miss seeing your face light up when you got to a really good part in one of your book. I miss the way you looked at me, too. -Asher
My chest warms, and the feeling sticks with me until my head hits the pillow that night. But even then, I end up dreaming about him.
The following day, he lingers for a moment before he leaves me to write. Something in his eyes makes my heart stutter, wanting nothing more than to talk to him. But I don’t. I stay strong.
When I read this note, I feel the truth in it. The emotion. It’s exactly what I saw shining in his eyes.
I think about you in everything I do. Since the moment you walked into my life, you consume my thoughts. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. -Asher
And the next day... That one has tears trailing down my cheeks.
