The other women fall into a separate conversation, leaving Grace and me in our quiet corner.
She sips her tea. “Did he tell you he was my senior resident when I was an intern?”
No, but he told me he was in love with you.
I smile. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“He was thebestsenior. Do the residents at your hospital love him?”
Oh, yeah. Residents. Nurses. Certain catty anesthesiologists. “He’s pretty popular.”
She laughs into her tumbler. “No surprise there.”
Her gaze is soft as she swirls a finger around the rim ofthe plastic lid. The sparkly diamond on her left hand glitters in the ambient light. It occurs to me that this woman knew Asher at a time when I didn’t. A younger Asher.
“Did you ever get the sense during training that he thought he was, like... not good enough?
She lifts her gaze to me, brows drawn together. “Not at all. He seemed completely confident. BrOB-GYN to his core.”
I snort. “BrOB-GYN?”
“Oh. He didn’t tell you about that? His little group of guys. A little misogynistic, but I don’t think he ever saw it that way. He’s a little clueless sometimes.”
Huh. So GraceknowsAsher. I’m not certain how to feel about that. Pretty sure my heart thinks we should be jealous, though that makes zero sense. Grace is getting married tomorrow. To someone else. Oh, yeah, andI don’t want Asher Foley.
If I believe it hard enough, it’s bound to come true.
“Were you serious earlier?” she asks. “About being in love with him?”
“Ah.” I snag a sip of wine to delay the answer. “No. We’re just friends, actually.”
She nods slowly, pondering. “That’s too bad. He needs someone great.” Her hazel eyes search mine. “You seem kind of great.”
A tender flower blossoms in my heart for this girl. “Thanks. You seem sort of great, too.”
The other women in the room erupt into laughter, drawing our attention, but Grace sets a hand on my arm. “I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for him. Just... look out for him for me, will you?”
I slide my hand atop hers. “I always have. Always will.”
Her smile sparkles, and I remember how much Asher had been dreading coming here. How strange he’s been since weset foot in this hotel, like a shadow of himself. I’m not sure what’s got him so skittish, but it’s not this woman. He’d been perfectly genial with her at dinner. Not a single sign that he’d once had deep feelings for her. His unease lies elsewhere, and I wish I knew where. How else am I supposed to fix it?
When I make it back to my suite around 11:00, it’s still empty. The cold hotel air wraps around my limbs, and I decide to indulge in that soaker tub before bed. Bubble baths are what happiness is made of, and all the anxiety and tension drain away with the bathwater. Warm, content and drowsy from the alcohol, I curl up in bed and let sleep take me.
But dreams are cruel. Uncontrollable. Sometime later, the familiar nightmare of watching the water take Asher jolts me awake. I blink into unfamiliar darkness. The silence oppresses me. My skin is too tight, stretched across tense muscles and rigid bones. My traitorous, endangered heart slams hard against my ribs, robbing me of breath.
Just a dream.
It was just a dream.
I check my phone.
2:04 a.m.
Ugh. Why?
With zero hesitation, I slink out of my bed and tiptoe toward Asher’s side of the suite on trembling legs. I just need to verify he’s breathing, and I can go back to sleep. It will make the shivers stop. Simple.
But when I enter his room, I pause. The bed is suspiciously undisturbed. I pat it down in the dark. No Asher.
