It seemed fast for someone who hadn’t wanted anything serious just a few days before. Blythe stared at him. “Are you saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“I’m saying it because it’s true. Now, it doesn’t mean I’m ready for major commitment. I’m still young, and I don’t plan to settle down for a few years.”
“I’m not looking for a marriage, Asher. That’s not what—”
“I know,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just…let me finish. I’ve never really been in a serious relationship. I like to keep my options open. I always have. My parents didn’t always have a great relationship—it’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to explain—so, when you said you wanted to be exclusive, I panicked. No girl has ever expected that from me. But, then you walked away and the thought of being without you…even with the possibility of being with thirty other women…it was terrifying. I don’t want to be with anyone else if it means I can’t be with you.” He ran a thumb over her knuckles, taking a deep breath. She was losing herself in his eyes, the candlelight on their tabletop dancing in the black irises. “So, to prove to you just how serious I am…I wanted to ask if you’d consider going to a cabin with me Upstate this weekend. I know it’s last minute, but if you can get off work, I promise to make it worth your while.”
She was completely thrown off by the proposition, expecting literally anything else to have come from his mouth. “W-what?”
“My parents are hosting a party for my grandmother’s eightieth birthday. I’ve never brought a girl home to meet my family. But…I want you to come.”
She smiled, the idea filling her belly with a weird mix of excitement and nerves. “I don’t know…”
“Come on,” he coaxed. “You’ll love it. We own a few vacation cabins all there together. It’s really beautiful. And if you hate it, you don’t have to stay. I’ll bring you home or call you a car. But you won’t hate it.”
She thought for a moment, trying to picture herself ‘Upstate,’ as he called it. It seemed like something she’d hear in a movie. A cabin in the mountains? It may as well have been a screensaver.
“You’re smiling…” he whispered, brushing her cheek with his outstretched fingertips. “Is that a good sign?” He was right, she realized, as her hand went to her lips. She nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” she confirmed. “I’ll go.”
He leaned across the table, bumping into it noisily as his mouth searched for hers. She pressed her lips into his kiss, welcoming it as her heart thudded in her chest.
“What are you doing to me, woman?” Asher asked as they pulled away, his awestruck gaze locked on her.
She smirked, taking a sip of her wine as the waiter approached their table. “Teaching you to bend.”
* * *
The car ride north was filled with laughter. Despite her worries about Finn, she was trying hard to focus on the man who did seem to want her. Luckily, he hadn’t made it too difficult. On top of keeping her entertained, Asher had packed enough food to feed a kindergarten class on a week-long fieldtrip. And he’d shopped like one, too. Bags of Twizzlers, M&Ms, Skittles, Bugles, Doritos, and Reese’s Minis lined the floor of the rented BMW.
Blythe sat with her legs crossed in the seat, chewing on an orange Twizzler.
“I can’t believe you like those,” he said with a laugh. “I thought you were joking when you asked for ’em.”
She wiggled the candy in the air. “They’re my favorite. Orange cream anything…mmmmm.” She snorted as she took another bite.
“Your favorite snack? Or your favorite food in general?” he asked.
“My favorite snack,” she told him, and when he feigned a sigh of relief, she went on, “my second favorite food.”
“Do I want to know your first?”
“French fries, of course!” she said, appearing appalled.
He laughed. “Of course. I forgot I was dating a toddler.”
“What about you? What’s your favorite food? Caviar?”
He rolled his eyes at her, snatching the bag of Twizzlers and threatening to throw them out the window ‘if she was going to be so sassy.’ She laughed loudly, begging for the bag back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
He tossed the bag back to her. “For your information, my favorite food is pizza.”
“Really?”
Asher nodded. “Don’t look so surprised. New York has some of the best pizza in the world.”
“I just assumed you’d have expensive taste.”
“And I just assumed your favorite food would be friend chicken and mashed taters,” he teased, assuming a fake Southern drawl.
“Fair enough,” she relented. “What about your second favorite?”
“Now, that’s caviar.” She stared at him for a moment, realizing he was joking and laughing again until her stomach burned and her eyes watered. When she’d calmed, he cleared his throat. “No, but seriously, when I was a kid I only ate pizza. Like, it was the only food group in my life.”
“That sounds…super unhealthy.”
“It totally was. My parents had this world-class chef, and literally the only thing he could fix that I would eat was pizza. I even got creative when my parents told me I couldn’t request pizza anymore and started asking him to make ‘azzip.’”
She furrowed her brow, taking another bite of her Twizzler. “Azzip? What’s that?”
“Azzip. Backwards pizza,” he said with a laugh. He held his hand out flat in front of his mouth as if he were eating a slice of pizza and rotated his hand so that his fingers were closest to his lips before giving her a wink. “I invented it when I was seven.”
“Oh my God, that’s either completely terrible or complete genius.”
He patted his chest. “Well, my parents didn’t find it nearly as funny. Needless to say, my belt is very grateful that they pretty much banned pizza from our house after that. But if I’m given the choice, pizza is still my number one.” He pointed to the sky, pretending to have tears in his eyes.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re funny, Asher Grace. Why didn’t I realize you were funny before?”
He lowered the volume of a John Legend song on the radio as they slowed to turn onto a new street. “I guess I was trying too hard to impress you before.”
“You didn’t think this would impress me?”
He shook his head. “Nah, girls don’t want funny guys. I mean, sure, every girl says they do, but only when that funny guy also has six-pack abs, a chiseled jaw, and a few extra zeros in his bank account.”
She dropped her jaw. “But you have all of those things, Asher.”
“I know,” he said sheepishly. “But a guy can only show off so many things at once. And speaking of showing off…” He pointed out the window, and her gaze followed his finger, looking out as a line of three houses came into view.
House was a bit of an understatement, if she was being honest. Cabin didn’t even come close. What she was staring at were nothing short of rustic mansions with scenic views of snow-capped mountains. Large, picturesque windows lined the front of each house, giving a darkened view of whatever was happening inside. Dark-cherry stained wood sided each building, leading out to balconies that overlooked the thick forests behind the houses. It looked like something from a magazine. Something from a dream.
“Whoa,” Blythe said, plopping her feet onto the floorboard as she leaned forward to get a better view. “This is incredible.”
“Yeah,” Asher agreed, pulling down a long, gravel driveway.
“Forget funny. You should’ve led with this.”
Chapter Thirteen
Asher led Blythe into the middle house, insisting on carrying her bag inside. When they walked through the door, Blythe let out another gasp. It was beautiful—not that she was surprised. Rustic, yet modern, the perfect mix of wood-lined walls, fur rugs, and gold-plated art. The glass windows gave her a gorgeous view of the land surround
ing the house, and it was enough for her to spend a full day taking it all in.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Asher asked, setting their bags down and walking up behind her, one hand on her waist. He spun her around, pressing her back to the glass and lowering his lips to hers slowly. The kiss was sensual in a way he hadn’t been before. He was in his element here. Or maybe it was just her change of heart. Either way, it had a chill running down to her toes.
His palms trailed around the hem of her shirt, his thumbs sliding under the fabric to meet her skin. Her tongue danced with his as he let out a low moan and leaned in further. Their legs were tangled, breaths growing faster when she pushed him away gently.
“Asher,” she scolded, pulling her shirt down. “We can’t do this here.”
“Why not?” he asked, twirling a piece of her hair around his finger.
“What if your parents see? That is not how I plan to meet them.”
“No one’s here yet,” he told her. “My parents won’t be here until this evening, and the caterers and event planners still have an hour before they show up.”
“Event planners? For a birthday party?”
“Mhm,” he said, biting his lip as his hand slid up her shirt again. “Now, do you want to keep talking or should we finish what we—”
“Please don’t finish anything,” a man’s voice said from behind Asher. He whipped his hand out of her shirt, turning around in a flash.
“Dad?” he asked.
“Don’t mind me,” the man said, a friendly smile on his face. He stood a few inches shorter than Asher, though his posture made him seem taller. He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair that perfectly matched his well-kept beard. Dressed in khakis and a suit jacket, he was the model of business casual as he reached out his hand to shake his son’s, pulling him into a tight hug. “Hello, Son.”
“Dad, hi,” he said against his shoulder. When they pulled apart, he reached for Blythe’s arm, pulling her so that she was standing even with him. “This is Blythe.”
“Blythe,” his father said, kissing the top of her hand. “You’ll forgive me for interrupting.”
Her face burned red at his words, but he seemed to be genuine enough. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“None of this ‘sir,’ nonsense. You can call me Jacob.”
“Right, sorry,” Asher said. “This is my father, Jacob.” She nodded, placing her hand in her pocket and waiting for Asher to say something else. “We weren’t expecting you and Mom until later.”
“Yes, I heard,” he said, smiling deviously. “But your mother insisted we arrive early. She’s hired new caterers, and she wanted to make sure everything ran smoothly.”
“How’s Grandmother Lorene?”
“She’s as sharp as ever,” he said, but added, “unfortunately,” as he laughed. “Anyway, your mother saw your car pull up, and I’m recruiting you to be my buffer. Sorry, everything else will have to wait. Besides, she’s dying to meet the first girl you’ve ever brought home.” He winked playfully at Blythe, and she couldn’t help but notice how much he reminded her of Asher.
“Okay, let us get our bags put away,” Asher said.
“Fine,” Jacob agreed. “Ten minutes and I’ll be back.” He sighed. “Actually, make it five.”
Asher grabbed hold of the bags and began to head up the large staircase on the far side of the room. “You coming?” he asked.
“I’ll just…um, I’ll wait here,” she said awkwardly as Jacob walked out the front door, casting one last sly glance at her.
A few moments later, Asher appeared at the top of the staircase. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” she said, brushing a piece of hair from her face. “But I’m sure they probably think I’m ruining their son now. Not exactly a picture-perfect way to meet, huh?”
He shook his head, his hand running down the railing of the staircase as he made his way toward her. “Trust me, I was already ruined, and what he just saw doesn’t even put a dent in the car wreck that was my teenage years. They’ve seen me through a lot worse. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. At least, in their eyes,” he added at the end, his voice a little higher as if he was worried about what he’d said.
“Well, thanks,” she told him, locking her fingers with his as he held his hand out.
“Do you think he’ll tell your mom?”
“Nah,” he said. “Dad and I…we’re cool. He’s not gonna rat us out.”
“I feel like we’re in high school,” she said. “Sneaking around and worrying about being caught.”
He pulled open the door. “You snuck around in high school?”
“As much as the next person,” she told him, elbowing him in the side when his eyes bugged out. “Oh come on, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he joked, pointing toward the far cabin and leading her that way. “I just picture you as a little goody two-shoes in school.”
“I got in my fair share of trouble,” she said. “I wasn’t a bad kid, though. But I had my rebellious teen years just like everyone else.”
He nodded. “Well, if you’re lucky, maybe we can spike the punch tonight.” The front door opened and Jacob stood in front of them, obviously waiting anxiously. He let out a sigh of quiet relief, turning around with his hands in the air.
“They’re here, Mona.”
A short woman with bright red lipstick, shoulder-length blonde hair, and a blue mid-length dress rounded a corner, a bright smile plastered on her face.
“She’s real!” she exclaimed, hurrying toward Blythe with her arms outstretched. “Come here, come here.” A cloud of perfume overtook Blythe’s lungs as she was pulled into a tight hug, Mona bobbing her side-to-side with excitement. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it. When Asher told me he was bringing a girl home with him for the weekend, I thought for sure he was lying. You’re real? He didn’t, like, hire you or anything?”
“I—I’m real,” she said, once her lungs were able to re-inflate to their full size. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. Grace.”
“Oh, pish-posh, Mrs. Grace. You can call me Mom. Or Mona. But I prefer Mom.”
“Mom,” Asher chided. “Please don’t scare her off.”
“Scare her off, what about scaring you off? What on earth did I ever do to deserve a son who never writes or calls?” She pulled him into another of her spine-crushing hugs, kissing his cheek so that a bright lip print was left.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. Work’s just been crazy, you know? It’s no excuse.”
“Well, you’re right about that. But, I’ll let it go this time because you’ve brought a girl home.” She pulled Blythe’s arm, wrapping hers through the bend and leading her into the kitchen. “Come now, you have to tell me everything. How did you meet? How long have you been together? Do you live together? What do you do? Has he been a gentleman?”
Blythe cast a look over her shoulder to Asher who offered an apologetic shrug. “Take it easy, Mom.”
Mona was making no attempt to listen as more and more questions poured from her. Who knew such a small person could contain so much curiosity?
* * *
The party went off without a hitch. Continuing to crush every stereotype Blythe had about ridiculously wealthy families, the Graces were the warmest and most welcoming group of people Blythe had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Having grown up in Texas, that was saying a lot. Sure, Mona Grace talked way too much, Jacob seemed to always have an all-knowing look in his eye, and Grandmother Lorene asked the same questions over and over again, but they also showered Blythe with attention. In truth, they appeared so relieved to see someone with their son, nothing else seemed to matter.
They’d gracefully overlooked the fact that Blythe felt so out of place surrounded by people who could easily drop on lunch what she’d make in a year. Asher kept her close to him despite mingling with old college buddies, friends of the family, and actu
al family. Everyone was enthralled to meet her. They wanted to know what she did for a living, what it was like growing up in the South, and how in the world she had ever come to meet ‘a man like Asher.’ At first, she’d felt self-conscious, as if they believed she wasn’t worthy of him and might be questioning how she’d tricked him into spending any time with her, but by the end of the night, she no longer felt as much of an outsider. She’d been introduced to practically everyone there and, for the most part, they’d all been warm and friendly.
As the party wound down and the last few guests began to head out, Grandmother Lorene crept toward her. The woman was in amazing shape for having just turned eighty, and she still seemed to take complete care of herself.
“Well, what’d you think?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Blythe lowered her brow, trying to hear the woman’s voice over the ballad playing through the speakers to her right.
“About the party. What did you think of it?”
“Oh, it was really nice, Grandmother Lorene.” It felt like such a formal name, but it was how everyone seemed to address her, Asher and his parents included, so Blythe went with it.
“You could get used to it, eh?” she asked, elbowing her playfully as her eyebrows danced.
“Me?”
“This could be your life now, Blythe. If you nail down our Asher.”
“Oh,” Blythe said, perhaps a bit too loudly. She put a hand up shaking her head. “It’s still…it’s still super early, Grandmother Lorene. I don’t think we’re anywhere close to thinking about that.”
The old woman looked across the room to where her grandson stood, his hand on his father’s shoulder as he laughed along with a group of middle-aged men. He looked at Blythe, catching her eye for just a moment and smiling warmly. “That boy has never so much as brought a girl home for a Sunday brunch, let alone a party like this.”
The Better Choice Page 7
