Page 118 of Bleeding Hearts

She also connected with Asher’s mom after we started speaking again, who I know has been helping her through a lot. The two of them have become friends and it makes me happy to know that my mom has someone like Emma in her life.

I introduced her to Lydia about a month ago, explaining who exactly she was to me.

I could tell it was hard for my mom to meet her, but I could also tell she was extremely grateful for her. Something she told her multiple times.

I look over to their table now and see a wide smile on my mother’s face.

A smile that looks like a replica of my own. One that I’d only seen on her in pictures before recently.

Seeing her smile makes me smile myself because the two of us did it. We fought our way out of the abuse and are here in this moment now, together.

“So,” Asher says, breaking the silence. “Is it everything you ever dreamed it would be?” he asks.

I stand there, taking it all in.

Opening night of my restaurant, all of the people I love here, happiness exuding from them.

And then I look up to Asher. The man who I thought was my friend but was always so much more. The man who I wouldn’t be standing here without. The man who I love the most.

“It’s more.”

EPILOGUE

Demi – Eight Years Later

“Mommy,” Charlotte yells as she comes sprinting into the house, leaving the front door wide open.

“Hi, honey.” I smile, looking up from where I’m holding our youngest, Nova, in my lap.

“Guess what?” She jumps up next to me on the couch. She smiles brightly and even at only six years old, her resemblance to Asher is striking.

Out of all three of our kids, Charlotte looks like him the most. She’s practically a carbon copy of him actually.

Her long brown hair sits in waves around her face, her golden-brown eyes the same as Asher’s, staring up at me and that smile of hers. The exact same as his.

“What?” I ask her, looking at her with wide eyes to mimic her excitement.

“Daddy got us ice cream.” She squeals, and it’s then that I notice the large chocolate stain on her once-white dress.

“Charlotte.” Asher groans as he walks into the house, holding hands with our four-year-old Presley. “We weren’t supposed to tell Mommy that.” He sighs.

“Oops.” She giggles, knowing he could never really be mad at her.

“And why are we keeping secrets from Mommy?” I look at Asher with a raised brow.

“I knew you’d call me a wimp,” he says, looking away from me.

“You are a wimp.” I laugh loudly.

Asher took the girls to their annual checkups today while I stayed home with Nova, who had her one-year-old checkup a few weeks ago.

I warned him when he offered to take them both that they’d need to get their shots, and they’d both try to con him into getting ice cream after, even though we have plenty of sweets here in the house.

He assured me he’d be fine, but I knew that was a lie even when he was saying it.

I shake my head with a smile, knowing that I could never actually be mad at him for spoiling our daughters.

“You know, Charlotte may look like me, but she’s definitely got your weird taste buds.” He closes the door behind him, letting go of Presley’s hand and coming to sit next to me on the couch.

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