I laughed while Asher rolled his eyes.
“Don’t listen to him,” he said. “I may not have attended culinary school, but I know my way around the kitchen.”
He was right. He did—much more than me. As the class got underway, it became painfully clear that my talents did not include tossing salads or searing filet mignon.
Nevertheless, I had a blast. Sebastian kept us entertained with stories about previous events while Asher tried to convince me my filet mignon wasn’t that overcooked (it was) and I tried to steal one of the raspberries for his cheesecake without him noticing (he did, but he let me have it anyway).
It was different and interactive and fun. I didn’t feel any pressure to be “witty enough” or “charming enough”—not that I ever felt that pressure with Asher, but it was nice to spend time with him in an intimate yet casual environment.
Physical attraction and romantic feelings aside, I just liked hanging out with him. Some people drained my energy if I was around them too long, but he lit me up.
After our class, we brought our food into the dining room, which looked way too fancy for my blackened steak.
“This is where I leave you. Scarlett, it was a pleasure.” Sebastian gave me a cordial cheek kiss. “Asher, I’m looking forward to next season. Here’s hoping Blackcastle wins the league.” He clapped Asher on the back again and flicked a glance at my plate. He barely suppressed a wince. “Please, ah, enjoy your meal. Mr. Harris will bring out the wine.”
You’ll need it. He was too polite to say it, but I knew what he meant. My food was a disaster.
“Here,” Asher said when Sebastian left. He gestured for me to swap seats with him. “You take my meal, I’ll take yours.”
“No way.” I didn’t budge. “I’m not making you eat this.”
“So you’re going to eat it instead?”
“It’s not that bad. The salad is edible…I think.”
Asher’s mouth twitched. “Okay. I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to be offended.”
“Let me guess. I’m a terrible cook?”
“Well, yes. But that’s not what I was going to say, although it is related to that.” He pressed the intercom button next to the table. “Mr. Harris, can you bring in our food, please?”
My lips parted when our servers returned, this time with fresh dishes that we absolutely did not make.
“Wait. You had a backup meal this entire time?” I shot him an accusing glare. “You made us go through the class for nothing?”
“Not for nothing. I had hope.” Asher’s eyes gleamed with laughter at my outraged gasp. “I’m sorry, darling. You’re beautiful, talented, and wonderful in so many ways, but ever since you told me you thought it was impossible to overcook shrimp…I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.”
“That wasn’t my fault! I told you the internet lied,” I grumbled, but I couldn’t hang onto my indignation for much longer. The meal I made was awful, so I was happy to have an alternative.
“I hope you had fun anyway, even if your steak didn’t turn out as planned.” The corner of Asher’s mouth twitched again. “I figured we’d take the class for the experience and not the, ah, outcome.”
My face softened. How could I stay mad when he was so bloody thoughtful all the time? “I did have fun. This was one of the best dates I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad.” Asher paused. Swirled his wine. Then said, “One of? What dates have been better than this one?”
“Oh, you know.” I flattened my mouth into a line, sealing the laugh that threatened to spill out at his obvious fishing. “There was that helicopter ride in Hawaii, and the eight-course meal on a beach in St. Lucia…”
It was total bullshit. I’d never been to Hawaii or St. Lucia, but a disgruntled Asher was too cute not to tease.
His face crumpled into a scowl, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My laughter broke free, bouncing off the walls and rattling the silverware as I tried to rein it in.
Asher’s eyes narrowed with dawning realization. “You were taking the mickey out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” My cheeks hurt from grinning. “I’ve never seen someone look so annoyed by the mention of Hawaii, but I was joking. This is the best date I’ve ever had.” I gestured around us. “My ex would’ve never thought of something like this. He liked the flashy things. Fancy dinners, over-the-top treatment. I like those things too, in moderation, but sometimes I felt like he was doing them for the image instead of the sentiment. So this…” My mirth faded into something softer. “This was perfect.”
It was probably frowned upon to talk about an ex during a date, but Asher picked up the thread and kept pulling.
“When did you two break up?” he asked.
“Five years ago.” Asher’s brows furrowed.
“Yeah. It was right after my accident.” I took a fortifying sip of wine and debated how much to tell him. I didn’t want to turn our dinner into a therapy session. I hadn’t talked about Rafe in years. The only people who knew the details of our split were my family and Carina, but wasn’t this what couples did? Share parts of their pasts, both the good and the bad, with each other? He’d trusted me enough to tell me about Teddy; it was only fair I tell him about Rafe.
Besides, even though we weren’t an official couple, I felt more comfortable talking to Asher than anyone else I’d dated.
“We started dating when I was eighteen,” I said. “He and Vincent were teammates at the time, which was how we met. We were together for three years. It was my first serious relationship, and I thought he hung the moon and stars. We even talked about getting married one day.” I toyed with my wineglass, lost in recollection. “I should’ve known better. We were so young, and we were caught up in the fame and money. Especially him. It blinded me to things that should’ve been red flags. But I loved him, or at least I loved the idea of him, and I truly believed we would be together forever.”
Sometimes, I remembered the girl I used to be, and I couldn’t believe she existed in the same lifetime as me. She’d been so bright and shiny, filled with hope and stars in her eyes. Rigid when it came to her career but romantic in every other way.
Look where that’d gotten her.
“Things were going so well, I thought he was going to propose. Then…” I swallowed hard. “Then the accident happened. I was in the hospital for weeks afterward. My recovery was brutal, both physically and emotionally. Rafe couldn’t handle it. He’d signed up to date the beautiful prima ballerina, not the…not that shattered version of me who was depressed and angry all the time. I had good reason to feel that way, but like I said, we were young. We weren’t equipped to deal with the strain it put on our relationship. He broke up with me a month after I was discharged from the hospital, and he started dating someone else two weeks after that.”
Say what you will about Rafe, but he didn’t waste time.
Asher’s expression hardened. His anger didn’t surface often, but when it did, it transformed the entire landscape of his face, sharpening the angles and carving dark hollows beneath his cheekbones. “That fucker.”
“It’s okay.” I shook my head. “Don’t get me wrong. I hated him at the time, but in hindsight, it was the best thing for both of us.”
