Page 47 of Unwrapped

He plants a kiss on the tip of my nose, “I should have told you all of this sooner shouldn’t I?”

Warmth spreads all the way down my toes that curl inside my boots. “I dunno,” I shrug, “I think this moment turned out to be pretty perfect.”

We stand in each other’s embrace, next to the car, for several more seconds. “Well, are you ready to head back to the city? I think it’s only fair we spend the final few hours of Christmas with just us since it won’t always be this way.”

“What do you mean?” I look up at him, my nose scrunched.

“First comes love,” he smiles, stepping back to open the passenger car door for me.

“Oh yeah?” My smile is giddy as he closes the door and walks around to climb into the driver’s seat.

“Mhmm, and then comes marriage.” He says it as if he’s explaining something complex, keeping a straight face as he turns the car on.

“And then?” I can’t hide the excitement any longer, my belly flips at the thought of what comes next. He reaches his hand over, sliding his fingers through mine

“Then comes all the delicious, naughty baby making activities.” He bounces his eyebrows, causing me to fall into a fit of giggles. “I can’t wait to make you a mom baby, you’re going to be incredible.” He pulls my hand to his lips, kissing the back of my palm, “and even more, I can’t wait to love you and our babies forever.”

As we drive away from the Mercer estate, hand in hand, I know without a doubt that this Christmas—this year—has been the start of something wonderful. Something I’m ready to embrace, every step of the way.

No more doubts. No more “what-ifs.” Just me, Asher and his promise to always love me.

A WOMAN'SWORTH

December 28th By Asher Mercer, CEO of Mercer Enterprises

I stare at the headline of his statement for the hundredth time, my hands trembling as I scroll through the article again. It's been shared over fifty thousand times since he posted it this morning.

I rarely address personal matters publicly, but when it comes to Ivy Calloway, I'll make an exception. Not to defend our relationship - it needs no defense - but to address a concerning pattern I've witnessed in the responses to it.

The questions about her worth, her background, her intentions... they say far more about our society's twisted values than they do about her. You question what she brings to the table? Let me tell you:

She brings authenticity in a world of fake smiles. Determination that built a thriving business from the ground up. Intelligence that sees through bullshit and still chooses kindness. She makes me want to be better, not for the cameras or the shareholders, but for myself.

You mock her for not coming from money? For wearing off-the-rack dresses? I've dated the socialites, the models, the 'right' kind of women you seem to think I deserve. None of them taught me what real wealth is - the kind that comes from pursuing your passion, from touching lives with something as simple as a perfectly baked cookie, from loving fearlessly despite what others might think.

Ivy Calloway changed my life the moment she walked into my office with a business plan and a dream. She didn't need my name, my money, or my influence. She never has. That's not why I fell in love with her.

I fell in love with her because she's real. Because she challenges me. Because when she looks at me, she sees Asher - not the CEO, not the inheritance, not the society page headlines.

So yes, we went to high school together. Yes, she owns a bakery. And yes, I am completely, irrevocably in love with her.

If that bothers you, feel free to unfollow. If you're wondering what I see in her, you're asking the wrong question. The real question is: what does she see in me?

I'm still trying to be worthy of the answer.

Tears splash onto my phone screen as I finish reading it again. Part of me still can't believe he did this - Asher Mercer, who never comments on his personal life, who maintains careful control of his public image, just laid his heart bare for the world to see.

My phone hasn't stopped buzzing since the article went live. Messages from old friends, industry contacts, even some of thesame people who were criticizing me days ago. But I haven't responded to any of them.

The only message I care about is his, sent privately right after the article posted.

Asher

I meant every word. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.

I curl up on my couch, hugging a pillow to my chest as I process everything. The hateful comments had cut deep, deeper than I wanted to admit. But this... this feels like healing. Like validation. Not because I needed the world's approval, but because Asher chose to stand up and claim our love publicly, proudly, without hesitation.

My phone buzzes again - another message from him:

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