A cup of coffee wasn’t just a cup of coffee. It was something to savour, something decadent, something meant to warm you from the inside out. Rain wasn’t meant to be ignored; it was meant to be breathed in deeply, felt as it raised goosebumps along your skin. A walk down the street wasn’t something to rush through. It was meant to be meaningful, slow and measured, calm—a reset on the day.
Asher was as peaceful in human form as he was in nature. Perhaps that was why I found myself enjoying his company. He was okay with my moods. The storms that brewed chaotically inside me were something he weathered with ease. Nothing about him felt natural to me. No—Asher was the peace the finality of my life needed.
Which was something I knew I had to accept.
A stroke along my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, pulled me from my daze. Asher was reading to me from one of his new favourite books,Remarkably Bright Creatures, and listening to his soothing voice had quickly become one of my favourite pastimes.
“What are you thinking about?”
Peeking up at him through my lashes, my head still resting in his lap, I shook my head. “Nothing. I have an appointment with Rachel today, though. I have to go soon, and I don’t really want to.”
Honesty came easier with Asher with every passing moment. He never judged my thoughts, my accusations of him, or my wildly miscommunicated outbursts. He met me where I was, and for that, I was grateful.
He ran his fingers through my hair again. This morning, I’d brushed my hair and taken the time to straighten it for him. He loved playing with my hair, but his fingers always caught in the knots I left behind when I neglected my self-care.
He inhaled a deep breath before answering, “I know. But if we leave early, we can walk by that little bakery I told you about—the one where the old lady yells at everyone.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’d love to get berated right before therapy.”
“It’s good to test the strength of our resilience once in a while.” Asher laughed.
I pulled myself upright on the couch. “Ah, thank you, but I’ll be just fine. Hang out here, keep Nova company. I won’t be too long.”
“You sure?” he asked, unconvinced.
“Yeah, of course. I just want to get shitty therapy over with. I’ll be back before you know it. Then we could accompany each other to shitty group therapy. Lucky us,” I mocked.
Asher chuckled. “Contrary to popular belief, I enjoy therapy—well, the kind I get to spend with you, anyway.”
I meandered around the apartment, grabbing my bag, assessing the weather outside, and determining if I needed a coat or not.
“Was it therapy if we were just having sex on balconies?” I quipped.
Asher tipped his head back, laughing. “I don’t know about you, but exposure therapy has been working for me lately. We should do it again.”
Before heading for the door, I looped back to him, leaned over the back of the couch, and kissed him deeply.
Every kiss felt like it might be the last.
As I left my apartment, I realized how differently I’d been moving through the world. Different in the way I conducted my day to day. My attitude, my habits, my behaviours. The trajectory of my perspective has since landed. Why had I kissed him like that?
Sometimes I drifted into a trance when we were alone together. Life felt divided into two worlds that rarely collided until we were separated, which has become rare. Time itself felt like a construct I wasn’t willing to decipher when it came to us.
When I was alone, every horrible feeling, every treacherous thought, every gruelling memory flooded back tenfold. When I was with Asher, life felt different. Like a dream I’d never know how to conjure. A wish I hadn’t realized I’d been making. There was fear in it, too—the unknown shadow of whatever darkness waited on the other side of whatever this was.
Because it wasn’t forever. No. Asher was just burning time. He wouldn’t be mine forever, and I knew it. Deep down, I knew we weren’t forever.
But we could be…for now.
Thirty minutes collapsed into seconds, and suddenly I stood outside Rachel’s office door. I hadn’t been using anything to get by. I hadn’t been sleeping my days away. I was sober. So walking up to her door stirred a deep-seated, ugly anxiety in my core.
No matter how many times I’d been in this exact room, it always challenged me. It forced me to take a glimpse in the mirror I’d spent years avoiding. Just getting by. Just fucking getting by.
One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks.
Waiting.
Rustling from the other side told me Rachel was about to greet me. Her warm smile was about to look at me as if she were excited to see me. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely happy to see her client—or relieved I was still alive.
