"We can make that pasta you like."
"Sure," I say. "That sounds nice."
He smiles and leaves for work. I stand in the kitchen and listen to his car pull out of the driveway. Then I hear footsteps on the stairs. Devon appears in the doorway, already dressed for the day in expensive athleisure. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She looks rested.
"Morning," she says.
"Morning."
She goes to the coffee maker and pours herself a cup. She adds cream and sugar, stirring slowly. The spoon clinks against the ceramic. "Did you guys have a nice time while you were gone?" she asks.
"It was fine."
"I'm glad you got away for a bit. You both seemed like you needed it."
I don't respond. I'm not sure what she wants me to say.
She takes a sip of her coffee and leans against the counter. "It was nice of Ryan to stay."
"He’s a good guy."
"I told him I felt bad that you guys had to come back early. He said it wasn't a big deal, but I still feel terrible."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know. But still." She pauses. "Asher texted me Thursday night to check in. I told him everything was fine and he didn't need to worry, but I think he felt guilty about leaving me."
My jaw tightens. So he was texting her too. Not just the phone call at three in the morning. "He worries about you," I say.
"I know. He's been so good to me. I don't know what I'd do without him." She says it like it's a compliment. Like she's grateful. But there's something underneath it. A claim. A reminder that she needs him in a way I apparently don't.
I finish my coffee and rinse the cup in the sink. "I need to get to work," I say.
"Okay," she smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes.
The smile I return doesn't reach mine, either.
That night, Asher comes home at six with groceries. He's in a good mood. He kisses my cheek when he walks in and starts unpacking ingredients on the counter. Pasta. Fresh tomatoes. Basil. Garlic.
"I’m about to make you the most kickass dinner," he announces.
Devon is sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop open. She looks up and smiles. "You’re such a dork."
Asher glances at her and laughs. "You can help if you want."
"Oh, no. I don't want to intrude. This is your thing."
"You're not intruding," he says. "You live here."
She hesitates, then closes her laptop. "Okay. If you're sure."
I don't say anything. I pour myself a glass of wine and sit at the table while Asher cooks. Devon sits across from me. She's scrolling through her phone, occasionally showing Asher something funny. He laughs. She laughs. I drink my wine.
Dinner is fine. The pasta is good. Asher is attentive. He refills my glass. He asks about my day. He tells a story about a difficult client that makes Devon giggle.
After dinner, Devon offers to clean up. Asher tries to help but she waves him off. "You cooked. I'll clean. You two should relax."
Asher takes my hand and leads me to the living room. We sit on the couch. He puts his arm around me. I lean into him because that's what I'm supposed to do.
