Asher winks at me again. “This is normal mom stuff. My mom cried all over my brothers-in-law when they first talked about how much they loved my sisters.”
My mom unwraps herself from Asher and looks at him curiously. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. All married. Three of them have kids.”
“And they all live in Boulder? You must miss them.” My mom looks at him curiously.
“They do, and I definitely do. It was nice to go back and visit, and I’m happy Juliette got to meet everyone.”
“Well, I’m sure it’s hard to be so far away, but you have a family here now. You love Julie, so that means you’re one of us. If you need anything, you come here.”
I know Asher misses his family and doesn’t have a lot of people here to lean on, but I don’t think I realized just how lonely he’s been in Pittsburgh until I see the emotion painted all over his face at my mom’s simple declaration that he belongs to us. Every time I think I have reached the absolute depths of my feelings for this man, I find even more. I’m wondering if there is a bottom, or if I’m destined to fall harder and deeper forever. I have never been as grateful for my mom’s vast well of love and acceptance as I am in this moment.
“You know Mom, he won’t have to go far to come here. He lives pretty close, it turns out.”
“Really? Where do you live?”
Asher points in the direction of his house. “About five houses down that way.”
My mom grins broadly. “We’re practically neighbors. Does that mean I’ll have my daughter just down the street soon?”
“I did buy a really good espresso machine,” Asher says, as Ijust shake my head, resigning myself to the fact that my mom is having a no filter on what comes out of her mouth day.
“Jules does love her lattes. And it would be nice to see her in an actual home instead of that showroom she lives in right now.”
I look at my mom in astonishment. I’ve been feeling the same way, but this is the first time she’s ever brought up anything like this. It makes me think that I need to have a conversation with my parents. I take stock of my feelings and am surprised to realize that the idea of a good heart-to-heart with my mom makes me feel relief rather than anxiety, and I make a mental note to come back over this week when I have some time. That’s not a conversation for tonight.
“Hey, look who’s here!” Ben’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts as he comes strolling into the foyer from the direction of the kitchen.
“Asher, good to see you, man.” They do a one arm man hug kind of thing that has me chuckling. “Now that you’re back, will we see you at the gym?”
“Count on it,” Asher says with a genuine smile. “I have some stuff with the team I need to deal with this week, but starting next week I’m all in.”
“Sounds great. I’ll text you our schedule next week.”
Then Ben wraps me in a hug. “Missed you, Jules.”
“Missed you too,” I whisper. Tears prick my eyes as I realize just how true that is. How I’ve been missing him for longer than just the two weeks I’ve been away. Out of the corner of my eye I see Asher looking at me with a softness on his face. I remember the promise I made to him to talk to Ben and suddenly, that seems like a conversation I urgently need to have. Asher nods at me and, as if he can read my thoughts, he turns to my mom.
“Rachel, can I help with dinner? I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”
My mom is watching Ben and me, and I guess she’s a mind reader tonight too. “That would be great. Ben and Jules, why don’t you sit and catch up while we deal with dinner?”
Without waiting for a response, she hooks her arm through Asher’s and guides him towards the kitchen. He looks back at me and gives me an encouraging nod and a smile before disappearing down the hall.
Ben wanders into the living room, and I follow him. In a habit as old as we are, we take our usual places on the big leather sectional—me curled up in the corner seat and him on the middle cushion, his legs stretched out on the giant square ottoman that doubles as a coffee table.
“Tell me a story, Jules,” Ben says, and my breath hitches.
Tell me a story. It’s something we said to each other when we were younger and had spent any time apart. It was our way of catching each other up, making sure that we were still part of each other’s lives, even when we weren’t always together. The familiar phrase has tears pricking my eyes again, and this time I let them come. They fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks, and I do nothing to wipe them away. They feel good. Cleansing, almost. Ben doesn’t seem alarmed by the tears. He just slides over and wraps an arm around me, letting me get it all out. I rest my head on his shoulder, and we sit in silence.
“Must be some story,” he says, when my tears finally stop.
I let out a watery laugh. “You have no idea.”
On instinct, we turn to each other and sit cross-legged, our knees touching like we used to do when we would talk as kids, and the familiar position gives me the courage to jump in.
“I have a confession to make,” I start, jumping right in.
