Page 40 of Home Run Fiancé
Asher’s gaze darts around the room like a chair might magically appear to save him from having to sit on the hard floor.
“Have a seat, Princess.”
He gives me a look, but he sits, his back to the opposite wall so we’re facing each other.
We stare each other down for a few minutes, neither of us starting the conversation we know we have to have. I don’t know what he wants me to say. His sister took advantage of me and I won’t tolerate it. Period. End of story.
Asher finally moves, digging in his pocket and then reaching across the floor to hand me something. I reach forward and let him drop it in my hand.
Rhys’ engagement ring.
“What the—”
“She wanted me to give it back to you since you never returned her phone calls.” Asher glares at me, the side of his jaw pulsing, like he wants to punch me in the face instead of sit here and have this conversation.
“Dude, I called her twice yesterday and she never answered. Voicemail was full so I couldn’t leave a message either. What do you want me to do?” I throw my hands out to the side, irritated with the whole thing. I was the one wronged, so why is he mad at me? And why does the sight of Rhys’ antique ring in my palm—and not on her finger—irritate me more than anything else?
Asher snorts, reminding me of Rhys. “You don’t get it, do you?” He hops up, looking down at me, his face red. “Rhys had nothing to do with the press finding out about your meeting with Bobby. He called me two days ago to apologize. Apparently some office guy they recently hired decided to blab that he’d seen you in there with Bobby. Wanted his two seconds of fame for selling a story. But you didn’t even give Rhys a chance to defend herself. You assumed the worse and then went out with some other woman to embarrass her publicly.”
I’m stunned. His words swirl through my brain while I try to make sense of them. Asher stalks over to his suitcase and picks it up, walking to the front door. He pauses there, one hand on the doorknob, shaking his head.
“I’ll remain your agent as long as you want me to, but we’re not friends. I’m not friends with people who hurt others and jump to conclusions like that. Grow up, Jake. Not everyone is out to hurt you. Sometimesyou’rethe one hurting people. You’re too hung up on your past to see what you had right in front of you.”
With that parting shot, he leaves, slamming the door behind him, the sound echoing through the empty condo.
The immature side of me wants to have the last word, to defend myself against his hurtful accusations. I’m halfway to the door when it hits me like a two-by-four to the face that this must be how Rhys felt when I accused her of leaking the story to the press, but never gave her a chance to set the record straight. I just closed the door on her and left.
I’m despicable.
I’m the biggest idiot in Texas.
Because the woman I love is in California and wants nothing to do with me after I was a complete jerk.
The realization of everything hits me all at once and I slump back to the floor, wishing for the apathy that kept all these feelings at bay. The big diamond I slipped on Rhys’ finger burns a hole in my palm. I stare at it, wishing I never blamed her for everything. Wishing I never involved her in this stupid fake relationship. Wishing I could take everything back and meet Rhys the old-fashioned way. Take her out on dates and treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Support her business and watch her charm the world with that raspy voice that demands your attention, her carefree spirit, and her witty comebacks.
My chest aches and I know I have to make things right. Not right for me, but right with Rhys and Asher. They deserve to be apologized to.
I jump up and fling the door open, running down the block to where Asher is putting his suitcase in his rental car.
“Asher!” I call out while sprinting the best I can barefoot.
His head pops up and he watches me approach warily. When I’m close enough to talk, he doesn’t waste time with words, just winds back and lets his fist fly. The punch catches me by surprise and pops my head back. My eye instantly starts to sting, the ring of bone around it aching something fierce.
I look at him through the other eye, my hands covering my rapidly swelling one. He looks just as stunned as I feel. He shakes out his hand and I hope it hurts as bad as my face. I haven’t been coldcocked like that since I was a mouthy little kid on the playground with the school bully three years older than me.
“Okay. Yeah, I deserve that.” He nods and I hurry on. “But I came to apologize. I was wrong to judge her so quickly, but I swear to you I wasn’t out with some woman. I’ll make things right with Rhys, I promise.” I drop my hands and look at him through an eye so swelled up already I can barely see him. He deserves the truth. “I love her, Ash.”
He nearly chokes on a laugh. “What? Dude.” He shakes his head at me until he sees I’m dead serious. “You serious about not being out with another woman?”
“I swear on Mama’s life.”
His eyes narrow. “There was a picture of you at a restaurant with her the day after your run-in with the paparazzi with Rhys.” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and scrolls through until he finds the picture and shows it to me.
I squeeze my good eye shut, knowing it looks bad and understanding why Rhys would be hurt. The thing is, it’s just the press painting me as the bad-boy athlete. Not reality.
“Dude, this was from like six months ago. Look at my beard. It’s way shorter.”
Asher grabs the phone back and examines the picture before putting it back in his pocket. He’s not smiling, but at least he doesn’t look mad at me anymore.
