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Julie Louise Paris shakes her head like she’s tired, and there is a hint of some sympathy in her expression now. “Maybe it was a terrible idea. All of this. Maybe I should ask Asher to move somewhere else.”
We stare each other down with doubts, narrowed eyes, pain, confusion, hurt, wounded pride, more doubt, love on her end, and probably some sad, pathetic, watered-down expression on mine.
“I like your hair,” Asher’s granny says out of freaking nowhere. “But your choice of attire sucks.”
“I’m sorry?” Because currently, I’m not wearing anything but a sheet and a quilt.
“I looked through your closet before I woke you up.”
Oh my good freaking unicorn sprinkles. She did not.
“It’s all stuff from your company, thank you very much.”
Julie Louise Paris just rolls her eyes. “I’ll have something sent over for dinner. My treat.” She bends, grabs the quilt at the end, and yanks it away. I yelp and pull the sheet up higher, but it’s white and probably hides nothing at all. This lady might very well be not only a ninja but a crazy ninja—a crazy ninja granny.
“A size eight?”
“Y…yes.” All the clothes in the closet are sized small, medium, and large, so it’s a good guess. A really good guess. I’m starting to think Asher’s granny has strange powers. Like X-ray granny vision.
“Good. I’ll see to it.”
Then, she turns and walks out. Just. Like. That. Like letting herself into someone else’s house, inspecting their closet, waking them from a dead sleep, and giving them a lecture about life is no biggie.
I jump out of bed and throw on some clothes. Even they feel violated, now that I know Asher’s granny went through my closet. I’m just pulling on a sweater over my tank when Asher appears in the bedroom doorway like a ghostly phantom. I didn’t even hear the door open downstairs. What is it with the Paris family?
He’s holding two paper coffee cups in his hands, and it’s obvious where he was. So he didn’t abandon me, didn’t leave in the middle of the night, or steal away like he was ashamed and leave my door unlocked for just anyone to come in here and kill me. He was probably gone for all of twenty minutes, and his granny knew perfectly well that he’d left. She was probably watching the house all camped out, dressed in camo, with black paint smudged under her eyes.
Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Before I can say anything, Asher gives me that beautiful Asher smile which I’ve become incredibly used to in a shockingly small amount of time. I gulp. I have to be strong. I can’t let that grin or the rest of him sway me. I have to be strong.
When he holds out a cup, I don’t take it.
“My granny called me while I was out getting coffee. She’s in town and wanted to surprise me, so I thought we could have dinner tonight. With her. You could meet her.”
“And…and what?” I splutter. “Give her the happy news that the fake thing isn’t so fake anymore? Why would that make her happy? Why would she think I’m any different? I’m just another one in a long line of others. A…a peg or a notch or something!”
Asher’s eyes darken. “That’s not true.”
There’s such sincerity in those words that I’m totally rattled. I would have believed him if his granny hadn’t been in here first and if I didn’t already have a heck of a stew of doubts brewing up in my gut. And if he didn’t have a long history, I didn’t also have a history, and if we both knew each other for a decent amount of time before we decided to gosh darn freaking fall into bed together.
Which is actually a euphemism for having the best sex of my life.
“There’s a lot on the line for me.” I force my voice not to waver because I need to be strong. And firm. And marginally angry because it’s what allows me to hold on to my sanity. “I can’t just jump into another relationship just like that.” I have already lost three freaking years over someone who just didn’t freaking care about me. I can’t do that all over again. And Asher is the date and leave them kind of guy. He might be serious now but what about later on.
“Emily—”
“I think you should just leave. Please. If I’m going to have to endure dinner, then I need my space, and I need time to get ready. I have to prepare to be fake.”
I can’t look at Asher. I can’t stand to see how I’ve hurt him. Maybe that’s how this goes. That’s the risk of not faking something. Of being real. Because being real always gets you hurt. Caring, feeling, it always sucks. That’s just how it goes, and I’m no different from the next person. I should know that. I’m not special, as Asher’s granny pointed out. I’m just a regular person who was plain stupid, and now I’m making my own bed. Uh, literally. I’m going to have to wash those sheets because I won’t be able to stand the smell of Asher on them. Because it’s a good smell. It’s a very great smell, and I can’t afford to think things like that. I can’t afford any of this.
