Page 52 of The Fate Of Us

“This is probably a stupid question,” I started, as Asher and I waited in the lobby ofone of the city’s new and highly sought-after bars, one that was already listed in several ‘best places to spot celebrities in NYC’ articles. “How did you manage to get a reservation… here?”

Before he could answer, my eyes glided over to the waitress heading our way, amaroon cocktail dress swishing at her thighs as she walked. “Mr. Hartford, Miss Moore, would like to follow me?” She asked sweetly, her body twisting back the way she came.

“After you,” Asher purred, my feet seeming to forget their job for a second beforefollowing after our waitress. “I actually own the place, so reservations aren’t particularly something to worry about.” he practically whispered into my ear.

Actor who was also a bar owner?Oh, the story I could write with that trope.

“Still humble as ever.” I cocked my head over my shoulder to whisper back, catchingAsher’s smirking eyes locked on me.

White tiles covered the back of the bar, a wall of spirits, catalysts for both devilishand heavenly decisions, adorning just in front. Several feet of solid emerald made up the bar’s countertop. My eyes glided over it as we walked past, smiles and laughs and knowing looks of the people occupying the bar stools, cushioned in the same colour as the dress of the waitress escorting us, filling the room.

“Is this table suitable for both of you?” Our waitress asked, my feet halting just in timefor me not to bump into her.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Asher said from behind me.

The waitress nodded at us, decorating our curved booth with two slender menus beforeslipping away into the smoke and haziness of the bar.

I slipped into the booth, the fabric of my dress making it easy to glide on it. Asherfollowed in pursuit, stopping an inch or two away from me, before grasping the menu and inspecting it.

“If you own the place, why do you need the menu? Didn’t you come up with thedrinks yourself?” I asked, picking up mine and doing the same.

“Isn’t a guy allowed to make sure his menus look right?” he asked, a smirk thatspurred on something dangerous in my stomach shadowing over me. I had to look away.

“He is, and I can see why.” My eyes go wide as I point at a section of the menu. “Didyou know that you’ve spelled tequila wrong on here? Oh wow, several times actually—”

“What? Let me see that,” he chuckled, leaning his head over me, the darkest of cherryand leather scents taking over my senses.

“Little liar,” he whispered, his dusky eyes on me.

“Just testing you,”

Right on cue, a dangerous cocktail of guilt and shame swam in my stomach, my eyesdiverting to the part of my dress that clung to my exposed thighs before I squeezed them shut, appreciating the darkness for a second.

“What can I get you?” Our waitress called from the edge of the table, her mousy voicemaking my head spring back up.

“I’ll take an old-fashioned if that’s alright?”

I eyed the menu once more before I looked back at her. “A cherry martini, thank you.”

“I’ll be back in a second!” The girl called, returning not a minute later with ourdrinks, my hands, as well as my mouth, happy for the distraction.

“So,” Asher started, taking a sip of his drink, the crystal glass clanking back down onthe table. “It seems we have at least… what, seven? Eight years to catch up on?” The way he looks at me makes my heartbeat flutter. “So what’s new with you, Adaline?”

I snorted a laugh, taking a quick sip of my drink too, wondering why I had such asudden craving for cherry. All it took was Asher to shuffle, his deadly scent rolling against me like a wave, for me to remember. “I didn’t realise this was a week-long date. I think we’d need that long if you want me to cover everything.”

Asher shuffled, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut this time. “Only tell me the partsthat meant something to you. And if that includes every moment since the last time I saw you, then I’ll happily close the place so we have the time to do that.”

I’m pretty sure everyone in the bar heard my gulp.

“Well,” I took another sip, also picking off the cherry on the top of the glass andsinking it into my mouth. “A month or two after filming finished for Jesse James, it was my eighteenth birthday, which meant I could finally leave home. I think I told you how my parents and how they…” I waved my arm around enough for him to nod, saving me from digging up the decaying parts of my past. “So the second I could cash in what I’d made doing stupid commercials and—”

“Really stupid teen romcoms?”

“Slightlystupid teen romcoms.” I corrected him, my spine settling into the booth. “Ileft. Packed my room up and got on a flight to New York, and I never looked back.”

“I’m glad you did that for yourself.” The corner of Asher’s mouth tipped up before hisgaze fell to his glass, his index finger tracing the rim of it. “Do they still talk to you, your parents?”

I let an eye roll chart its course. “No, not really. I don’t think they ever forgave me forleaving. Not entirely.” I sucked in a breath, ignoring the tiny quiver of my bottom lip. “The only reason I call home now is if I’m there for work or to talk to my little sister. Who, sadly, seems to have replaced me the second I left.”

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