Asher

As the sun sets on the horizon, its golden light spills through the windows, enveloping everything in a warm and familiar amber glow.

Yet, as I stand in my old room, the comforting scene now feels like a bittersweet reminder of how much my life has changed in such a short time.

The simple task of knotting my tie becomes a battle with my nerves. I've been sticking to jeans and T-shirts for as long as I can remember. Dressing appropriately was never a concern.

It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that I'm getting ready for a date with Emma. The same Emma I've spent years trying to push to the back of my mind.

Just a couple of months ago, if you had told me I'd be crashing at my parents' place and contemplating marrying her to step into Max's shoes as CEO, I would've probably thought you were joking.

But here I am, cluelessly trying to figure out how to navigate through all of this.

A knock on the door breaks my focus. A second later, Max wheels himself in, his posture tense as he watches me. He's struggling, not just with his physical limitations, but also with the emotions he's grappling with.

He hates that getting Emma involved in our problems would benefit all of us. And his shock at learning that she is actually considering our proposition was clear. He's just too proud to admit that it's bothering him.

"You almost ready?" His voice carries a hint of frustration that tugs at my heart.

"Yeah..." I clear my throat, avoiding his gaze.

"Need help with that?" He gestures at my tie.

"Thanks." I sit in my bed so we're at eye level, my gaze flickering toward his steady hands. Max's journey toward adapting to his new reality is a testament to his determination. He refuses to be defined by his accident, a quiet strength I admire.

As he fixes my tie, he works on a hard swallow. "Are you taking her to that restaurant I told you about yesterday?"

"Yeah..."

He offers me a half-smile, his gaze lingering on mine. "I took her there when it first opened... She loved the place."

My throat tightens, and I find it difficult to muster more than a whispered response. "I'm sure she did."

"There you go." He pats my chest, his eyes locked on mine. There's an unspoken understanding growing between us, a silent conversation that needs no words.

Knowing Max as I do, this gesture speaks volumes. It's a subtle way of saying that my involvement with Emma is about business, not feelings.

He wants me to remember that marrying her is a strategic move, a calculated decision for the sake of our family's legacy.

Our brotherly connection runs deep, and his gesture carries weight. It's his way of showing that he's on board with this plan, even if it's not what he wants deep down.

His support is unspoken, but it's there.

I just hope I can honor the promise I made to help him without once again having our lives disrupted in the process.

*****

Standing at Emma's doorstep, my heart races as the door swings open. The warm light from within her house wraps around her, casting her in a seductive silhouette. For a second, all I can think about is how badly I want to capture this image; to freeze it in time.

The red dress she's wearing fits her like a second skin, outlining her curves. She's pulled her hair up, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. My pulse quickens, and it's taking all my willpower not to reach out and trace that enticing line with my lips; to taste the soft skin behind her ear that's been haunting my dreams for years.

When our eyes lock, a bolt of electricity crackles between us, jolting me to life. A part of me that's been dormant for far too long suddenly roars back to existence, and my entire body tingles with awareness.

A coy smile dances on her lips, teasing and secretive. It's a reminder of how intimately she knows me; how aware she is of the effect she has on me.

In a heartbeat, I remember every inch of her body and all the intimate moments we shared.

I can still taste her lips, a sweet combination of longing and hunger that is stuck in my head.

The softness of her skin beneath my touch, like silk caressing my fingertips.

The low sexy sounds she makes when she's about to come.

Damn it! A stark reminder of why I could never get over her hits me so hard and fast; it makes me a little dizzy.

As I stand here before her, an intoxicating need to feel her lips against mine grows inside me. I want to kiss her. Claim her. Remind her that everything we once shared was real.

But I can't. God, I can't.

I gave up that right when I chose my family's expectations over my heart; when I convinced myself that she deserved a steady, predictable life with Max.

In my mind, I was merely a reckless spirit, unable to offer her the stability she craved at the time.

It all made sense back then.

But now, looking at her, I can't help but regret the choices I made.

The cruel irony of our current situation isn't lost on me. Life, in its twisted ways, has thrust us together once again, demanding we confront our past.

"You look stunning," I murmur, aware of the slight strain in my voice. The words feel inadequate, a poor attempt to capture the emotions coursing through me.

"Thanks..." Her gaze shifts to the door as she locks it behind her. "I don't remember the last time I saw you in a suit," she says, her voice soft.

"Me neither." A genuine smile tugs at my lips as I extend my hand toward her. "Ready to go?"

Her gaze holds mine for a moment before she places her hand on mine. "Sure."

With a gentle squeeze, I guide her to my car and open the passenger door for her. The engine hums to life, the soft vibration filling the space between us. She smells exactly the same, like a sweet mix of vanilla and summer breeze. It throws me for a loop, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my eyes on the road.

As we navigate the streets in silence, the air is thick with anticipation. There's so much I want to say, so much I want to ask, but nothing comes out.

Trattoria Amore, an elegant Italian restaurant nestled amidst the city's bustle, comes into view as I pull up to the valet.

Emma's gaze shifts to its exterior, her eyes widening slightly at the sight. "Wow, this place is..."

"Fancy?" I ask, a half-smile on my lips.

"Yeah, fancy is one way to put it." A genuine chuckle escapes her, momentarily easing the tension between us.

Max had suggested this restaurant, thinking it would impress Emma. But, as I watch a hint of apprehension in her eyes, I can't help but question his choice.

I should've known better and gone with my gut.

This is definitely not her scene.

The exterior of the restaurant exudes luxury, with vines gracefully trailing down the walls, hinting at exclusivity. A discreet plaque displays the restaurant's name, guiding us into the place.

As we step inside, the faint scent of truffle and spices hangs in the air, surrounding us with an inviting aroma. Grand chandeliers, silk-draped tables, and sparkling marble floors create a feast for the senses and emphasize the opulence of the interior.

The maître d' greets us with a smile. "Good evening. Reservation, please?"

Providing our names, I notice a flicker of recognition in his eyes when he hears our last names. As we follow him further into the restaurant, I sense Emma's hesitation. Instinctively, I place my hand on her lower back, offering silent reassurance. She responds with a smile, a brief connection that instantly grounds me.

The maître d' stops at a table, and the scene before us feels surreal in its magnitude. Emma's gaze widens, her eyes absorbing every detail, even though she remains quiet.

As we sit down, a hushed ambiance envelops us. The menu arrives, and I skip a glance at Emma, watching as she runs her fingers over the embossed lettering.

An impeccably dressed waiter arrives to guide us through the offerings of the evening and we listen with rapt attention.

Emma's voice is gentle as she places her order. "I'll pass on the appetizers and have the roasted butternut squash ravioli, please."

The waiter's attention turns to me, and I follow suit. "I'll have the osso buco with saffron risotto."

The waiter nods and departs, leaving us in a bubble of anticipation. Emma's gaze lingers on me, a dance of questions playing in her eyes. The silence between us stretches like an invisible thread, charged with the electricity of our unspoken history. I clear my throat, breaking the spell. "So, how was your day?"

Her lips curve into a smile, a spark of playfulness lighting up her eyes. "Well, I hope you're ready for the thrilling tale of laundry battles and conquering the treacherous kitchen terrain."

"Ah, the daring tales of adulthood. Truly epic." I can't help but chuckle at her theatricality. This girl was born into so much money she would've never needed to lift a finger in her life. But I know better than anyone that certain privileges come at a high cost. It doesn't mean I'm not curious to know why she left it all behind.

She raises an eyebrow in exaggerated agreement. "You can't even imagine. It's been thrilling beyond words."

I play along, feigning enthusiasm. "I'm on the edge of my seat. Who needs daring adventures when laundry's at stake?"

Her soft laughter fills the space between us. "Exactly. The epitome of excitement."

"Life's grandest moments," I say, unable to take my eyes off her as a twinge of longing stirs within me. I've missed this. The banter; the effortless connection that always seemed to exist between us.

She grins, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know it."

"I must admit I'm intrigued," I say. "You used to be the life of every party; an unstoppable force."

Her smile softens, a touch of nostalgia coloring her gaze. "Well, time has a way of reshaping us; of shifting our priorities and altering our perceptions."

I nod, a mixture of understanding and curiosity bubbling within me. "That it does. But sometimes, amidst all the changes, we might end up rediscovering parts of ourselves that remain untouched."

Her gaze lingers on mine, the weight of our shared history hanging between us. "I guess," she murmurs.

Before I can delve further into our conversation, the waiter returns, bearing our dishes along with a bottle of wine. He presents it with a touch of reverence, describing everything in intricate detail.

Emma offers the waiter a smile, turning her attention to her plate after he walks away. She lifts her fork with a delicate hesitation, her uncertainty palpable. As the first bite grazes her lips, a symphony of flavors seems to awaken her senses.

"It's incredible," she murmurs. "Last time I came here, the food wasn't this good."

"How so?" I smile, noticing that the food is, indeed, amazing.

"You know what I mean, Ash." She rolls her eyes and my heart squeezes in my chest hearing her call me that. "Some of these places don't always live up to their reputation or the extravagant prices they charge."

"Can't argue with that." I take a sip of my wine, letting its taste linger as I watch her eat. She still does it with gusto, so I guess that hasn't changed much.

As we're finishing our meal, an idea pops into my mind. "I was thinking we could go somewhere else for dessert."

She chokes slightly on her wine, her eyes widening. "What?"

"Get your head out of the gutter." I chuckle. "I haven't been to Harborside in years."

"Harborside?" A mixture of amusement and interest lights up her eyes.

"They used to have the best chocolate pies." I smile, and she shakes her head, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"The last time we were there, they practically had to kick us out to close for the day." She lets out a smirk, and a wave of nostalgia crashes over me, reminding me of the time when things were easier and we were just two kids trying to find our way in the world.

Making eye contact with the waiter, I rush to settle the bill. Business or not, I don't want to discuss getting married to her in a place chosen by Max that has nothing to do with us.

_____

A/N: Aw, I can't wait to see what the rest of the night has in store for them!😍

Are you enjoying Emma & Asher's story?

Please remember to vote and follow me here CelesteABrook for news and updates!🥰❤️

XOXO

Celeste