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I came home later than usual.
Not because work demanded it, but because I didn't trust myself to walk back into the house without preparation. I needed the time to think, to steady the part of me that reacted before logic could intervene.
By the time I unlocked the door, the sky had already darkened. The house was quiet in that familiar way that used to calm me. Tonight, it didn't.
"Asher?" I called.
No immediate response.
I stepped inside, setting my keys down carefully, jacket folded over the back of the chair instead of tossed aside. Small habits mattered. They reminded me I was still in control of something.
I found him on the couch.
He lay sprawled awkwardly, one arm thrown over his eyes, shoes kicked off near the coffee table. His bag rested on the floor beside him, half-unzipped. He looked exhausted in a way that wasn't physical alone like the day had taken more than time from him.
For a moment, I just stood there.
He hadn't noticed me yet.
I cleared my throat softly.
"Asher."
He startled, arm dropping as he looked up at me. "Oh. Hey."
"You didn't hear me come in."
"I was thinking," he said, sitting up slowly.
That tracked.
I moved closer, stopping near the armchair instead of sitting beside him. Distance, for now, was still safer.
"How was your day?" I asked.
The question sounded ordinary. Intentional. An olive branch, offered carefully.
He hesitated.
"Long," he said finally. "And… weird."
My attention sharpened immediately. "Weird how?"
He sighed, leaning back again, staring up at the ceiling. "I had that interview."
Right.
Marcus's message. The company. I'd known about it, even if we hadn't discussed it properly.
"How did it go?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I think okay. I mean, I didn't embarrass myself. Which feels like a win."
I almost smiled.
"Almost?" I prompted.
He glanced at me. "Almost."
I waited.
"There was a delay," he continued. "Two hours. The CEO decided to sit in."
That made me still.
"The CEO?" I repeated.
"Yeah," Asher said. "Apparently he had some issue with how interviews were being handled."
"And?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
"And he was… intense," Asher admitted. "Didn't say much. Just watched."
Watched.
The word settled unpleasantly in my chest.
"You don't like him," I said.
Asher considered that. "I don't know him. But I don't think he's the kind of person who forgets things."
I didn't like the way he said that.
"Why would he need to remember you?" I asked.
Asher hesitated again.
"There was an accident earlier," he said. "Before the interview."
I waited.
"I bumped into him outside," he continued. "Spilled coffee on his shirt."
My jaw tightened despite myself.
"He wasn't happy," Asher added quickly. "Didn't make a scene. Just… cold."
Of course he was.
"And then," Asher said quietly, "he was sitting right in front of me during the interview."
I looked at him then. Really looked.
His shoulders were tense, his fingers curled into the couch cushion like he was grounding himself.
"You think it affected the interview," I said.
"I don't know," he replied. "Maybe. He didn't say anything about it. But he stared at me the entire time."
A familiar heat flared behind my ribs.
Not jealousy. Not yet.
Assessment.
"What's his name?" I asked.
Asher blinked. "I don't know. They didn't introduce him formally."
That bothered me more than it should have.
"Did you give him a reason to remember you?" I asked.
He frowned. "I answered honestly."
"That's not what I meant."
"I didn't flirt with him," Asher said flatly. "If that's what you're implying."
The defensiveness was immediate.
I exhaled slowly. "I wasn't."
The silence stretched again.
"I'm just tired," Asher said finally. "And maybe overthinking it."
"Maybe," I agreed.
But I didn't believe it.
I crossed my arms loosely, leaning back against the counter. "You did well. You went. That matters."
He looked surprised by that.
"Thanks," he said.
I hesitated, then added, "I should have said that earlier."
His gaze softened slightly. "You should have."
There it was. Not accusation. Just truth.
"I'm trying," I said.
He watched me carefully. "To do what?"
"To make things… normal again."
He smiled faintly. "Is that what this is?"
"It's what I want it to be."
He nodded slowly. "Okay."
The word felt like permission.
"Did you eat?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I wasn't hungry."
"I can make something."
He paused. "Together?"
The question caught me off guard.
"Yes," I said after a beat. "If you want."
He sat up, swinging his legs off the couch. "Yeah. That'd be good."
We moved into the kitchen side by side, careful but not stiff. He washed his hands. I pulled ingredients from the fridge.
For a few minutes, we existed in parallel silence.
Then Asher spoke again.
"What if he's the kind of person who holds grudges?" he asked. "What if I don't get the job because of something that stupid?"
I glanced at him. "If he does, then that says more about him than you."
"And if that's how corporate life works?" he asked quietly.
I set the knife down. "Then you're better off knowing early."
He nodded, unconvinced but listening.
I wanted to tell him I'd look into the company. Into the man. That I didn't like unknown variables, especially ones that stared at Asher like they were cataloguing him.
I said none of that.
Instead, I handed him a plate.
"Eat," I said. "We'll deal with everything else after."
He took it, fingers brushing mine briefly.
The contact was accidental.
It still lingered.
Asher didn't pull away.
Neither did I.
Normal, I reminded myself.
This was what normal looked like.
But as I watched him eat, the image from earlier returned uninvited another man's gaze, sharp and appraising, fixed on Asher in a room where power was unevenly distributed.
I didn't like that image.
I didn't like how easily it settled into place.
And I didn't like that something in me had already decided
whoever that man was, he wasn't someone I intended to ignore.