Five-year-old me was dressed as a fairy princess, tiara and all. My mother stood next to me, her face glowing with pride.
“Yes. That was taken before my first ballet recital.” My face softened at the memory. “She was so proud that she took me out for ice cream after. If you knew my mother, you’d know what a big deal that was. She is not a dairy or junk food fan. At all.”
Asher examined the photo more carefully. “You were adorable.”
“Were?” I teased.
He set the photo down and faced me again. “I think you’ve graduated from adorable to something else.”
Warm honey filled my veins.
The low pitch of his reply chased away our lighthearted morning and resurfaced memories of what we did last night. The things he made me feel and the uncertainty we’d unleashed.
We’d tiptoed around the elephant in the room all morning. Neither one of us wanted to break the spell, but we had to leave our bubble eventually.
Before I could think of a witty reply or a tactful way to bring up our relationship (friendship? situationship?), Asher’s phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said after he checked the caller ID. “I have to take this.”
The tension cracked, giving me space to breathe more freely. “No worries. I’ll be here.”
He answered the call in the next room while I worried my lip between my teeth.
I’d never had a morning-after talk. I usually went in knowing what to expect or slipped out before the other person woke up, so what should I say when Asher came back?
Should I Google it? Did the internet have useful advice, or was it going to lead me astray like the time it told me shrimp was impossible to overcook? (Spoiler: it was, in fact, very possible to overcook shrimp).
Asher returned, and all my half-baked conversation starters died in my throat when I noticed how pale he was.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s my dad.” He swallowed, his expression dazed. “He had a heart attack.”
CHAPTER 24ASHER
I didn’t protest when Scarlett insisted on coming with me to Holchester.
Normally, I wouldn’t subject anyone to a three-hour drive with the worst, most anxious version of myself, especially when I was sure they were offering out of politeness and not a genuine desire to give up their Saturday for someone else’s family emergency.
But when she’d offered, she’d done so with such sincerity I couldn’t say no, and I didn’t want to make the three-hour drive alone.
So I accepted.
We didn’t talk much during the ride, but her presence helped calm some of the thoughts raging in my head.
My father, who’d never been sick for more than a few days in his life, had had a heart attack.
We hadn’t spoken since my last visit to Holchester, when he’d stormed out of the kitchen and I’d left without making amends.
Regret rattled through me.
My mother hadn’t provided many details over the phone. She’d only said he was in the hospital, but what if our last words to each other were said out of anger? What if he was gone by the time I got there?
My knuckles turned white around the wheel.
“You can drive faster if you want,” Scarlett said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
I shook my head. “We’re almost there. It’ll be slower if I sped and got pulled over.”
I was already going faster than I normally would when she was in the car. She said she’d be fine, but I didn’t want to stress her out, and getting a ticket from some traffic officer on a power trip wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Scarlett’s worried stare bore a hole in my cheek, but she didn’t bring up the issue again. She did, however, call ahead and speak to someone at the hospital so that when we arrived, we were escorted directly to my father’s floor without causing a commotion—or tipping off the paparazzi.
My mother sat in the hall, twisting her hands in her lap.
She jumped up when she saw me. Red rimmed her eyes, and she wore her pyjamas with a coat thrown on top. She must’ve gone straight to the hospital without changing first.
“Oh, Asher.” She swept me up into a hug. I’d always considered her a strong person, but her body felt unbearably frail in the fluorescent-lit hallway. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
“Of course.” I squeezed her, my heart in my throat. “How is he?”
“He’s stable, thank the Lord.” My mother pulled back, her eyes glossy. “We were having breakfast like usual. I made him a spot of tea, and we were talking about going to France for holiday. I turned for a second to check on the kettle and heard a crash. When I turned back again, he was on the floor. He…I…”
I hugged her again, my own chest tight. “It’s okay. He’ll be okay.”
Guilt lodged in my gut for not living closer and abandoning her for London. I had my reasons, but what if something happened to my parents and I couldn’t make it back in time? I was their only child, and the rest of our family lived elsewhere in the UK or abroad. Besides each other, I was all they had.
