Page 39 of The Wish List
I was shocked when I opened the door to find Asher there. He filled the doorframe, his broad shoulders straight. His overcoat had a dusting of snow on it, and a few flakes glistened on his head.
“Asher.”
He nodded, looking determined. “Rosie.”
“I assumed you went back to Suzy’s.”
“No. I stayed here. I know you told me to leave, but I was hoping you would allow me to come in.”
“Why?” I asked.
“To talk.”
I paused, his next words surprising me.
“Please, Rosie. Let me in. Give me a chance and hear me out.”
I couldn’t ignore the plea in his voice.
I stepped back. “Come in.”
CHAPTERTEN
ROSIE
He stepped in and shed his coat, hanging it in the closet. He toed off his boots and stopped, looking uncertain.
“Do you want some coffee? Or a drink?”
He glanced at the sofa, seeing the champagne glasses. He looked at me, puzzled.
“Ginger ale New Year’s celebration with AJ. He had too much sledding again today and passed out a couple of hours ago.”
His eyebrows drew down, and worry crossed his face. “You didn’t—”
I stopped his question. “I watched today.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “A drink would be welcome.”
I waved at the kitchen. “You know where your scotch is.”
He had brought a bottle with him, plus an expensive liqueur for me to drink, before Christmas. Some of each was left in the bottles.
“I’m going to check on AJ.”
In his room, I looked down at my son. He was sleeping, having kicked off the blanket he’d been wrapped in, and was now on the bottom of his bed. I carefully moved him and tucked him back in, knowing I’d do this again later. I brushed back the hair on his forehead, smiling as it flopped back into place. He needed a haircut. I’d give him a trim tomorrow. I bent and kissed his forehead, inhaling. He smelled of bubble bath and shampoo. I straightened, thinking how fast he was growing. Soon, he wouldn’t fit in this single bed. Or this room. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Hopefully by then I would be in a better place financially. I would have a better-paying job and find a larger place for us to live. One step at a time, I reminded myself, the way I had since finding out I was pregnant.
In the living room, Asher waited, a scotch in his hand. He had poured me a liqueur, and I sat beside him. For a moment, there was silence, then he spoke.
“I owe you an apology and an explanation.” He took another sip. “I had no intention of making you feel as if I questioned your ability to make sound decisions for yourself or your son. I think you’re an amazing mother, and I’m sorry if I made you doubt my feelings on that subject.”
“Why did you call the doctor, Asher? Why did you race here? And hire a helicopter, of all things?” I questioned.
He turned and met my eyes. “I was frantic.”
“Explain why to me. Please.”
He hesitated, then reached for my hand. I let him clasp our fingers together, and he stared down at them, lifting our joined hands and kissing my knuckles.
