Page 79 of The Influencer

“Asher!”

“Will you listen to me now?”

“How dare you.”

The guilt chokes my heart. I never meant to be this person. I can’t believe I wound up here. “I fucked up. I knew I wasn’t going to marry you, and I should have told you that sooner, but I—” Didn’t want to be alone.

“I’m so sorry, Liv. I was beyond selfish. I swear I never meant to hurt you, but I have to be honest now. I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.”

Her chin trembles, dark eyes full of betrayal and uncertainty, and yet she says, “This is your guilt talking.”

“No…”

“I understand.” She takes a shaky breath, and tears spill from her eyes. “I should have been paying more attention—taking better care of you. Just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean we can’t still be intimate with each other. I’ve been—too focused on my awful job—too stressed out. I’m the one who’s been selfish. I’m sorry, Asher. We can fix this, baby. I’ll do better. But only if you promise to stop seeing her right now.”

This is not going to plan. I feel like I’m stuck in a spider web, and every move I make just gets me more ensnared. “I can’t do that,” I say as firmly as I can manage.

“Then I’ll speak to her myself. Give me your phone.”

“No! Olivia—Jesus, do you hear yourself? I’m fucking breaking up with you. It’s for both of us. We can’t go on like this. I can’t—I’m done. I’m sorry, but—I’m just done.”

She shakes her head robotically. “No. No. No. No.”

“Liv—”

“No!” she shouts, and I startle. “I don’t want that!”

“I know. I get it, and I’m sorry,” I say. “But my mind is made up.”

Her eyes narrow over her wet cheeks, which she swipes at angrily. “You couldn’t make up your own mind if someone asked you whether you wanted chocolate or vanilla. I know you, Asher. I love you. No one loves you—no one could possibly love you the way I do. Remember what you were when we met? Do you remember that man? Shy? Overweight? A groupie for your famous brother? I know the real you. And I fell in love with you anyway.”

Ouch. Fuck, that one hit the mark.

“And now look at everything you’ve accomplished. Do you honestly think you would be the man you are today without me?”

I stare at her and let the sickening realization that she’s right settle in. “You know what? Maybe now’s not the right time to have this conversation,” I say, moving to stand.

She grabs my hand and holds it tight. I make the grave mistake of meeting her crying eyes.

“End it with her,” she urges me. “Then come home. We’ll work everything out. I refuse to let you turn back into that sad man and ruin your life all over again.”

My mouth is open, but words won’t come. She tripped some switch in me that makes me feel about two inches tall. I pull my hand out of her grasp and step away from the couch. “I’ve gotta get out of here,” I say more to myself than to her.

“It’s okay, baby,” she says, full of understanding.

I want to cover my ears so I don’t have to ingest any more of her poison.

“I’ll be right here when you come back.”

23

jade

The next few days after the talk and the roast beef sandwich are tough for me. My mood is low. My energy, too. I sleep too late, I skip the gym to take naps, and then I’m up until three every night. I keep working—it’s not like I’m blowing everything off, but I don’t feel like myself. Instead of creating new content for Insta, I’m digging up older photos and trying to make them fun and fresh and what the fuck ever. I don’t really care.

I hate this feeling. And I hate more that I know exactly what’s causing it.

I. Fucking. Miss. Asher. Haas.

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