“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.”

“Chelcie—” she starts.

I hold my hand up before she can continue. I know what’s coming. It’s the same thing that’s been coming since the day I told her I was pregnant with Coop’s baby. The same thing that will continue to come until I grow some lady balls and tell Asher that I’m pregnant with his late brother’s child.

“I know, okay? I know. The longer I wait, the harder it will be for everyone involved. But please tell me how I tell a man who is either drowning in a bottle or sleeping his way through his misery that his brother knocked me up? Huh? Because the first thing he will think is the worst. I just know it. I didn’t ask for this, Dee. I’m thankful that I’ve been given this chance to become a mother…but I never asked for this.” I end in a whisper, angrily wiping the few stray tears that roll down my cheeks with the back of my hand.

I don’t want to be that stupid, weak girl who gets all weepy when shit goes wrong. I’m stronger than that. I refuse to be a backseat driver in my own life. I might not have asked for this—hell, I might not have even wanted this option…ever—but I will be damned if I lie down and live in self-pity.