“I knew this was going to happen,” I said. “I’ve known since Thanksgiving, but I’ve lied to myself every day since.” Over a month, I’d convinced myself we could do this, fight this, beat the odds. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I swiped them away. “I knew it would all come crashing down one way or another. I’d either embarrass you in public or your family would convince you I’m not your forever kind of woman. And I’ve been trying so hard not to screw up, not to do the very thing I knew would push you away.” I shook my head, my breath stuttering. I’d been walking on eggshells since Thanksgiving, trying to be the best version of myself, and it didn’t even matter. It still wasn’t good enough.
“Daisy, that’s not true. That’s not what’s happening.”
“Isn’t it?” I said, choking on my words. “I had a deadline and missed a meeting. I embarrassed you. I must do that every day, since you want to change my career into something more acceptable.” The knife in my heart twisted. “Well, I can save you a lot of trouble, Asher. I’m never going to be perfect for you. Even if I had ten NYT bestseller titles, I’d still be the woman who loses herself in her work, takes last-minute trips, and eats KitKats at nine a.m. instead of organic green juice.” I wiped at the tears on my cheeks as Asher stood frozen a few feet away. “I’ll make this easy on you, Ash,” I said, my soul fracturing. “Since I know there is real love between us, but sometimes, especially when the outside world’s opinion matters so fucking much, it isn’t enough. It’s over between us,” I said the words that did the final breaking in my heart.
“Daisy, please. Let’s just talk this out.”
I backed up toward his office door. “There’s nothing more to say,” I said. “I can’t be with someone who makes me feel small because I made a mistake, and you can’t be with someone who makes you feel embarrassed for just being who they are.” I swallowed hard, swinging open his door. I glanced over my shoulder, the devastated look on his face crushing me even more. What right did he have to look that sad, when I was clearly the problem in his life? A problem I was removing for him. “Everyone thought I wanted you for your money,” I said, stomach sinking. “And all I really wanted was you. I just wish I could’ve been good enough.” I turned around and shut the door behind me.
I made it to my car before I completely crumbled, crying against my steering wheel as I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.
17
ASHER
Aspen fucking sucked. Snowboarding the backcountry via helicopter sucked. Everything fucking sucked.
The flames in the outdoor fireplace crackled as I nursed my second glass of bourbon, staring out over the stupid fucking mountains from our stupid fucking private house that stupid fucking Ethan owned on his stupid fucking hundred acres outside the ski town.
The sliding glass door to the deck opened and Weston appeared, zipping up his coat as he threw me mine. “Put that shit on before you freeze to death.”
I momentarily debated throwing it into the fireplace just to see it burn, but decided the smell would probably be awful once the nylon caught fire, so I did as Weston demanded, shoving my arms through and zipping it up with more force than necessary.
“Like a petulant fucking child,” he muttered, falling into the Adirondak chair next to me with his own glass of amber liquid. “You do realize you lost an entire publishing house in that game to Crossland, right?”
The door opened and shut behind me again.
“It was just an imprint.” I threw back the rest of my bourbon. “Tell me you brought the bottle or get the hell out, Wes.”
“Damn, Ash. Not sure the deck can withstand the weight of the misery pouring off your sour ass,” Ethan said, taking the chair opposite mine.
“Don’t be a dick.” Weston shook his head at Ethan as the door opened and shut again.
For fuck’s sake, did everyone have to witness my wallowing? That’s what this was, right? Wallowing that I’d lost the love of my life.
“He’s always a dick.” Cross said, tugging a hat over his ears as he sank into the chair next to mine. Gareth took the only other one in the seating arrangement after handing me the bottle of bourbon I’d been working on since three p.m..
“Please tell me Doyle isn’t coming out here, or I swear I’m jumping off the fucking railing.” There was enough snow to cushion the fall. I’d break something, but at least my bones would heal.
The empty, aching place that resided in my chest was a whole other thing. That shit was never going to heal.