But my voice isn’t as steady or certain as Asher’s was.
CHAPTER
NINE
JULIE
ONE YEAR LATER
The drivefrom San Francisco to Carmel Valley takes us through rolling hills that turn golden in the afternoon sun. Asher has one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles through my sundress. We've been married exactly one year today.
This past year has been so much better than I dared to hope on our wedding day. We've settled into our life together. The anxiety I felt on that day has faded. Dean's financial trap still exists, but it feels manageable now. Distant.
Sure, there are small things. Asher is easily distracted—his phone buzzing with work emails, his mind drifting to contracts and deadlines even when we're supposed to be relaxing. And we don't see eye to eye on money.
He likes to spend freely, to enjoy the best of everything, while I still think about unnecessary excess and practicality. I insist oncompromise, which I know frustrates him, but I told him it's a non-negotiable for me, so he does his best.
Dean was wrong about him. Asher is a good husband. He values my opinions and makes sure I know he's proud of me. That's real. That matters more than anything else. So every six to eight weeks when we have dinner with Dean and he asks— in front of his son— if Asher is treating me right, I say yes without hesitation. He always looks mildly surprised, but also relieved.
My father was bad, but he’s worse. I couldn't imagine having someone as aggressive as Dean is.
Carmel Valley Ranch appears like something out of a dream, nestled among vineyards and oak trees, with views that seem to go on forever.
"This is gorgeous," I say as we pull up to the entrance.
"Only the best for my wife."
We check in and a staff member drives us in a golf cart to our suite, a private cottage tucked into the hillside with a deck overlooking the vineyards. Inside, there's a king bed with crisp white linens, a fireplace, a deep soaking tub, and floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the view.
"Oh my god," I say, walking straight to the windows. "Asher, this is perfect."
He's looking at something on his phone, his brow furrowed slightly. "Hmm?"
"I said it's perfect."
He glances up, then pockets his phone quickly. "Sorry. Work email. But yes, it’s perfect. And I have something for you.”
"You already got me this trip."
"That doesn't count. That's for both of us." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small wrapped box.
I open it carefully. Inside is a delicate gold bracelet with a single charm of a tiny book.
"From where it all started on our first date at Barnes & Noble."
My throat tightens. "Asher."
"I know that I fucked up with your engagement ring," he says quietly. "I notice you never wear it unless you have to and it shames me that I chose wrong. So I wanted to give you something that would make you smile for real. Something not my father's taste. Not what anyone else thought you should have. Just something that reminded you of that first day."
I slip it on my wrist and it catches the light. "I love it. I love you."
"Love you too."
We kiss again, slower this time, and I feel the familiar heat building between us. His hands slide down to my hips and pull me closer.
"We should unpack," I murmur against his mouth.
"We should," he agrees, but he's already walking me backward toward the bed.
