better hair than most girls, but it’s what’s inside him that has me entranced. He has this goodness about him, a purity that I never saw in him before, but as he is looking at me, keeping me focused, I know I’m the safest I will ever be.
“Okay, all done,” Doctor Bradshaw announces and slips the instrument free.
I let out a relieved breath and lean into Asher’s touch. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, instantly turning off the supportive friend and turning into the guy that is mad at me. Asher walks toward the door. “Come up the stairs when you are dressed. Breakfast is ready and there are a few updates when need to give you.” With that, he leaves, and a cold trail of ice follows him.
“Okay, I will leave you alone to get cleaned up. I’m going to stay and run the samples so you can have the results as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And I’m sorry, for being difficult.”
“Oh, dear, don’t ever apologize for that and don’t call yourself difficult. Healing and getting through a traumatic experience are only things difficult for you. Not anyone else. Okay?”
I tilt my lips in a sad smile. “Okay.” She drops the gown I’m wearing to cover me up and disposes of her gloves as she exits the room.
Plopping my head onto the table, I give myself a minute to get composed, then swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand.
Yuck.
Every woman knows my pain when they feel that damn jelly between their legs after an exam. It’s the most uncomfortable, disgusting feeling in the entire world. I waddle to the counter and grab a few tissues, clean myself up, and get dressed.
My stomach rumbles when I think of breakfast and head out the door toward the elevator. How can they afford something so spacious with a freaking miniature hospital in the basement? I press the button against the wall and the hum of the elevator descending vibrates the floor and stainless-steel doors.
It dings and the doors part, giving me an elegant view that matches the rest of the home. The floor is marble and the mirrors lining the wall are clean, crisp, and hide nothing of the reflection. I hurry to put my hair up, so I don’t look like such a mess since the strands are so tangled.
Satisfied with the messy bun on top of my head, I press the button to the main floor, and lean against the wall as I rise.
I chuckle sadly when I think of how Asher and I have switched spots when it comes to on another. I used to despise him, and he used to want me. Now here I am, getting warm and fuzzy over him and he can’t seem to put enough space between us.
I rub my temples when a headache starts to pound. I don’t want to feel anything for anyone, yet here I am, drawn to him like a moth to flame.
And he wants to freaking squish me, which he has the right to do after what I did. It doesn’t mean I can’t wish for him to forgive me so we can start over.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open to reveal the endless hallway that eventually leads to the kitchen. I can smell breakfast from here, similar to the muffins Asher brought into the room last night and I let my nose lead me to where I need to be.
I take my time, staring at the artwork along the wall, the impressive gold statues every few feet. Some are animals like lions and panthers, some are of Greek Gods and the detail is impeccable. Every line on the body, every whisker on the face, it’s lifelike. Minus the gold, of course.
The roar of conversation and laughter has me halting in my tracks. I can hear two babies crying and Quinn begging them to eat so they stop. Owen’s loud baritone booms when he calls out to Jolie. I glance around the corner and immediately notice that I don’t belong here. Sebastian is dancing with Gabriella, laughing at something she said. Grayson is feeding Finley and rubbing her pregnant belly.
Her and Jolie are going to give birth around the same time. Well, Finley is a little bigger, maybe by a month or so, but still, their kids will be close in age and how great will that be?
“Heather!” Jolie notices me watching them like a creeper, but I was just