Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Asher moves quietly in the kitchen, smoothing blue cloth napkins beside fresh plates of quiche, fruit salad, and buttery croissants. My parents perch on barstools at the island, legs swinging, chatting with Melanie, who’s perched on the sofa armrest in her favorite floral dress. The weeks of tension and trauma have given way to soft laughter and easy smiles.
I draw a slow breath, heart catching at how right this feels. A few weeks ago, none of this seemed possible. I still wake from nightmares—fishermen in glass boats, a cold steel hatch, the splash of the ocean—but those dreams fade faster now that Asher’s here beside me every night. His steady breathing, his warm arm around my waist now anchor me.
I pull my silk robe closer and slip into the living room, the soft jingle of my bracelet catching everyone’s attention. My mother’s shoulders relax at the sight of me. My father rises and envelopes me in a hug so tight it squeezes the breath out of me. “My brave girl,” he whispers.
“Hi, Dad,” I murmur, smiling at his crinkled eyes. He smells like wood polish and morning coffee. Like my safe place.
Mom brushes my hair away from my shoulder. “You look wonderful,” she says, letting me go only to smooth the folds of my robe. “We’re just so happy to have you back.”
I nod, voice thick. “Me too. I feel… like I’m finally me again.”
Melanie hops down and rushes forward for a hug. “You okay? I can always get you more tea—chamomile or lavender.”
I laugh softly. “Chamomile sounds perfect. Thank you.” She dashes to the kitchen, leaving me glancing at Asher.
He catches my eye with a gentle smile and nods toward the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I close the distance and slip onto the sofa beside Melanie, who sets a steaming teacup into my lap. I cradle it gratefully. Asher sits across from me, every inch the picture of quiet strength. I steal a look at him—black t-shirt under a deep-blue cardigan, denim jeans, that familiar stubble brushing his jaw. He’s been my rock these past weeks, the hero who brought me back from the edge and stayed at my side through every therapy session and sleepless night.
My mouth catches as my gaze flicks to my parents. I’m finally happy. We fall into a comfortable silence, the only sounds are the hum of the refrigerator and the soft weight of teacups on saucers.
Finally, Mom clears her throat and gestures at the buffet on the island. “Shall we eat?”
We move into the kitchen and fill plates, passing platters in a circle. Conversation flickers from light—Melanie recounting ridiculous dating stories—to deeper: Dad asking how the treatment is going, Asher providing quietly reassuring nods. The laughter and ease feel like a miracle.
Once we all settle around the table, I raise my glass of sparkling water. “Thank you all for being here today,” I begin, voice steady but proud. “I know we’ve been through a lot, but I couldn’t have done any of this without each of you—my family, my best friend, and Asher.”
My heart slams when I say his name. The room quiets, eyes on me, expectation flickering in every glance. I steel myself. “Actually…” My voice falters for half a second, then steadies. “We have some big news.”
Asher shifts closer in his chair, hand reaching for mine on the table. His fingers wrap around mine, warm and reassuring. My pulse leaps.
“We’re getting married.” I crack a wide smile. “For real this time.”
Murmurs of surprise ripple around the table. My mother gasps, exchanging a delighted look with my father. Melanie’s eyes widen, then light up with cheer. Asher squeezes my hand.
“And…” I continue, voice strengthening as I meet each face. “We’re moving to Denver.”
The room erupts. Dad nearly chokes on a croissant. Mom leans forward, gleeful. “Denver? As in the Rockies?”
I nod. “Yes. I love the peace there.” I jumble on, rushing to fill in the details. “And Asher’s going to open a new branch of his security firm there—just like Boone did in Nashville. So we’ll be together, and I can finally open the rescue ranch I’ve dreamed of—rescuing dogs, giving them homes, building that life we’ve talked about.”
Melanie’s cheer goes full volume. “A rescue ranch!” She claps her hands, nearly tipping her orange juice glass. “Oh, Charlotte, that’s perfect. I can’t wait to visit!”
Dad sits back, tears in his eyes. “A company foothold in Denver and a rescue ranch... I almost don’t know what to say.”
Mom leans in, touching my hand. “This is everything I ever wanted for you, sweetheart. Safety, love, purpose.” She meets Asher’s eyes and her gratitude is palpable. “Thank you for loving her.”
Asher’s gaze warms. “Thank you for trusting me.”
The moment feels sacred—a tapestry woven from guilt-free happiness, from promise and possibility. I look around the table again: my parents, Melanie, and Asher’s strong, steady presence beside me.