“What? There isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Your tits though . . . Damn, now those make up for the extra weight.”
It’s like my hand just moves without my permission. One second, I’m ready to go hide in a dark hole, and the next, I’m pissed to the brim. When my hand cracks across his cheek, sending his head to the side and shocking us both, I want to take it back, but in the end, I square my shoulders and wait for him to tear me down again.
When his eyes come back to mine, the shock of my slap taking some of his drunken buzz away, he just looks at me. I can see each of my fingers shining like neon across his tan skin, causing a wave of distress to hit me.
“Did you just slap me?” he asks, clearly confused now that he isn’t stuck on drunken-douche mode.
“You have got issues, Asher. Serious issues. I have no clue what has you jumping back into the bottle, but I deserve a lot more than your crap.” My chest is rising as rapidly as my temper, and all I want to do is take him by the neck and shake the shit out of him.
“I’m sorry?”
“How is it possible for you to forget all that verbal vomit that you just spewed? Well, don’t you worry about it, Ash. When you sober up, maybe then you can come and let the chubby chick know that you’re sorry. All I care about right now is talking to Maddox and finding the spare to my apartment so I can go to bed. I’m tired, and the last thing I want to do is deal with a drunk you.”
“He isn’t here,” he says, still looking at me as if he’s seeing me in some weird light.
“Well, isn’t that just great,” I mumble.
“Hold on. I’ll go get the key.”
He comes back a few seconds later and mutely hands me a key. I don’t even spare him a glance. I snatch the key and walk away. I can feel my emotions getting the best of me, and the last thing I want is to let him know that he’s hurt my feelings.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him exactly what I think of him, but I know he won’t even hear it when he’s this lost.
“Hey, Chelcie?” I hear right when the elevator door opens.
I brush the lone tear from my cheek and turn.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, okay?”
“Yeah, Asher. So am I.”
I know he doesn’t mean it. Well, hell, maybe he does. But when he’s drunk, he becomes someone I just don’t want to be around.
And I can’t help but wonder if the precarious friendship we have slowly been building was just knocked down because he doesn’t know how to heal from the pain of losing his brother.
CHAPTER 3
Chelcie
It’s been a week since the awkward showdown with Asher. He hasn’t said anything—neither have I. And to be honest, I’m not sure what there is to say. We aren’t best buddies, and at this point, I don’t even know if we’re friends or if I’m just some stupid girl who’s been trying to find a way to tell him about the baby.
Sure, there has always been an underlying attraction that just simmers under the surface. I don’t know if it’s just one-sided on my end, but sometimes I think that I can see the same heat I feel towards him burning beneath his sapphire eyes.
“Chelcie, did you hear me?”
I look over at Dee with a frown. “Uh, sorry. I must have spaced out. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
Her face softens for a second before her eyes narrow in concern. “And why haven’t you been sleeping well? Is everything okay with the baby?”
“What? Oh, no, the baby is fine. I have my checkup coming in three weeks and we should be able to find out what the gender is,” I sigh. “I’m just in a funk. I had a run-in with a drunk Asher last week.”
Her eyes widen for a second before she lets out a heavy breath.
Yeah, everyone knows what drunk Asher means.
“Was it that bad?”
“Well, let’s see. He called me fat. Basically said he would fuck me even though I was chubby, and then when I went to leave, he acted like he didn’t even know why I was pissed. So, yeah, it was pretty bad. It’s just . . . Now I don’t know how to act.”
“He did what?” she practically shrieks in outrage.
Dee turns in her chair and spins so that she is facing my desk. We’ve been working in her home office all day, catching up on some work that we’ve been putting off. I think at this point though, she is just giving me some things to keep my mind busy. She doesn’t really need me as much now that she closed the North Carolina branch of her insurance company. I think we both know that we’re grasping at straws to keep me working for her.
“I know. It was pretty brutal, but in his defense, he was really drunk. No, not just drunk—he was trashed. He didn’t just reek of alcohol, Dee. He looked like he had gone round for round with a cat and lost.” I smile a little at the memory. He might have been a giant ass, but I felt a little better knowing that he looked like he was feeling the bad end of the barrel. “I have no idea what the hell happened before his . . . whatever that was between us—but he looked terrible, Dee.”