Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Wait that's good though!” I relax.
"No, it's not."
"How can you even say that? This isn't something any sane girlfriend tells her boyfriend. I don’t want to freak him out."
“You freak Asher out? Over marrying you?” He looks at me like I'm crazy. “Okay," he clasps his hands. "If you ever tell him I said this he will kill me... he always talks about marrying you. It’s literally the first thing he said to me.”
“Liar,” I shove, unable to mask the swell of my heart.
He shakes his head. "Nope. Literally the very first thing he ever said to me about you is he found the girl he’s going to marry.” He spits crumbs everywhere as he speaks. “He was drunk when he said it, but you know drunk people speak the truth.”
Deflated.
I'm not longer relieved. If he was drunk it doesn't count.
Suddenly my phone lights up.
It's Asher.
We all stare. Brad and Jess have an almost identical expression.
I snatch it off the table and go somewhere private. “I know, it was terrible,” I answer.
“You did great,” his ultra smooth voice makes everything better. “They should have never asked those questions. I’m sorry they put you on the spot.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I-” I pause. “I- let me explain-”
“You don’t have to,” he interrupts.
Crap, I think he’s pissed.
“Look," he sighs. "I’m about to take off. I’ll see you in the morning.”
With that he hangs up without even a goodbye.
24
Should Have Listened
Asher and I haven't discussed my disastrous interview. It remains a taboo subject that neither of us brings up. For me there's a lot of fear surrounding it. I mean I'm the one who admitted on national television that I want to marry him, and as each day passes I think about how he once said he’ll know who he'll want to marry right away.
What if that's not me?
If I don't mention it I don't risk that being true.
It makes me think about what Brad said.
Based on how things are going I'm not sure Asher ever really told him he wanted to marry me. I'm mostly convinced Brad was just trying to make me feel better. Especially since it seems like Asher isn't into the idea.
Not at all.
The only people that still talk about the interview are the press. So while Asher and I both ignore it like the plague, according to every article out there I’m demanding marriage. He won’t give it to me, so we’re on our way to breaking up. I mean I can see it, right? Based on what I said and the fact that there hasn't been a proposal.
I'm serious.
I'm starting to think that may be true.
It's playing with my head, that's for sure.
March
We're a few weeks into the European leg of Asher's tour. In Italy to be exact. After a long day we return to our hotel suite to find the entire living room area covered in gossip magazines. It's so bad we can barely walk. We have to call housekeeping to bring up trash bags.
I pick up the page at my feet. It's in Italian so I can't read it.
The housekeeping staff enters with gasps. One lady looks over my shoulder. Still No Proposal! She reads in a thick accent. Below the headline is a picture of Asher and I in Paris last week, looking less than thrilled. It's when we tried to sightsee but it was too crowded so we couldn't. Fans and paparazzi followed us everywhere. They always seemed to know exactly where we were.
I scrunch it up and toss it in a trash bag.
Mona enters.
So does Tiny. He does a thorough sweep and has our room keys changed.
I head into the bedroom. Too annoyed and tired to fully change, I take my shirt and pants off and slide under the covers.
More people must have come in. I listen to all the voices and talking coming from the other side of the door, sometimes even shouting.
Eventually it quiets down and everyone leaves. It's not long after that Asher comes in. He slides next to me, his breath hitching when he feels my bare skin. Pulling me close, his hands know just where to go to make everything feel better.
"You're the one who must be exhausted after being on stage tonight. I should be doing this to you." I lean back, letting my head fall against his chest. "Feels so good though." I close my eyes, listening to his heavy breathing.
"Who said you won't be?" He pushes his hips forward.
I laugh.
He's not wrong.
"Have I told you this is the best tour I've ever done?"
"Maybe a couple of times," I smile. He's always saying he's having the best time. How being in these places with me makes it all the more amazing.
I feel the same way.
Of course I joke about him missing the variety of woman. Yet his response is always serious and always the same - that we're far better. He favors a constant companion, someone he can rely on, and my favorite - how he can't believe it, because this is something he thought he'd never have.