Why would you?
Rowan’s POV
I didn’t waste time.
The moment I hung up with my grandmother, I dialed another number.
A number I never thought I’d call.
Asher Knight.
The phone rang twice before he picked up. His voice was casual but edged with something sharp. “Vaughn.”
I leaned against my desk, staring out the window. “We need to talk.”
A pause. Then— “That so?”
I clenched my jaw. “Meet me.”
Silence.
Then a sigh. “Fine.”
I gave him the location. A private lounge—somewhere discrete. Somewhere I knew we wouldn’t be interrupted.
And then I waited.
\---
One Hour Later – The Lounge
I sat at the private booth, swirling a whiskey glass between my fingers.
When Asher finally walked in, I barely glanced up.
He slid into the seat across from me, crossing his arms. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Vaughn. Why am I here?”
I set my glass down. “Remi.”
His entire body tensed.
I didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.
Or the way his fingers curled into fists.
He let out a slow breath. “What about her?”
I leaned forward. “I know I fucked up. I know I don’t deserve anything from her. But I need to be in my kids’ lives.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Then—
He laughed.
A bitter, humorless sound.
“You really think you can just walk back in after all these years?”
I exhaled sharply. “I don’t expect her to forgive me. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away.”
Asher’s eyes darkened. “Maybe you should.”
I scoffed. “And let you take my place?”
His expression didn’t change.
But I saw it.
The flicker of something in his eyes.
I went still.
And then it hit me.
I leaned back, tilting my head. “You love her.”
He froze.
Didn’t confirm it.
Didn’t deny it, either.
I let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down my face. “Of course you do.”
His jaw locked. “And if I do?”
I stared at him.
At the man who had been by her side all these years.
Through everything.
Through raising my kids.
Through the years I had missed.
I could hate him.
I wanted to hate him.
But I couldn’t.
Because the truth was—
He had been more of a man than I ever was.
I exhaled, gripping the edge of the table. “She’s not yours.”
His lips curled into a humorless smile. “She’s not yours, either.”
Silence.
Tense. Heavy.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us backed down.
Then Asher sighed, rubbing his temples. “Listen. I don’t care what you do. But if you hurt her again—”
“I won’t.”
His gaze locked onto mine. “You already did.”
“I know.” My voice was low, rough, filled with more regret than I knew what to do with. “And I regret it. Big-time. I don’t remember it, but I want to try and rectify it. And I need your help.”
Asher laughed.
Not a real one. A bitter, disbelieving sound.
“You need my help?” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You do realize I’m in love with her, right? And you’re asking me to help you win her back?”
I exhaled, raking a hand through my hair. “I know. And I won’t pretend that doesn’t piss me off. But you’re also the person she trusts the most.”
His jaw clenched.
He hated that I was right.
“She deserves better, Vaughn.” His voice was sharp. “She spent years picking up the pieces after you shattered her. And now you expect her to just...what? Let you waltz back in?”
I didn’t flinch. “No. I expect her to slam the damn door in my face. And I’d deserve it. But I’m not walking away this time.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Silence.
A long, tense standoff.
Then Asher exhaled sharply.
“Fine.”
I blinked. “What?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll help you. But not for you.” His voice softened. “For her. If there’s even a chance she’ll be happier with you in her life—” He sighed. “Then I’ll do what I can.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Thank you.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t thank me yet. You have a long road ahead, Vaughn. And I make no promises.”
I nodded, leaning forward. “So where do I start?”
His expression turned unreadable.
Then, flatly— “Do you even know her favorite color?”
I stilled.
Shit.
My silence must have spoken volumes because Asher let out a humorless chuckle.
“Pathetic.”
I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Just tell me.”
He smirked. “Navy blue. But if you get her clothes, get black. She wears it more.”
I noted that down mentally.
Asher leaned forward, watching me closely.
Then he started listing things off.
“Shoe size? Seven and a half. Her coffee order? Black, no sugar. She hates overly sweet things but loves dark chocolate.”
I tried not to react.
This was…a lot.
Things I should have known.
Things I didn’t know.
Asher continued. “She’s allergic to shellfish, so don’t ever take her somewhere that serves it. And she hates roses. Too cliché. If you’re buying her flowers, go for lilies or orchids.”
My fingers tightened around my glass.
“Her favorite place to be? The research lab. Or home with her kids.”
My kids.
The thought sobered me instantly.
Then Asher hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then, almost reluctantly—
“She loves classical music. Won’t admit it, though. She says it’s ‘pretentious,’ but when she’s alone, she plays it. Especially when she’s stressed.”
Something tightened in my chest.
I never knew that.
And Asher?
He had seen all the sides of her.
The ones I had been too blind to appreciate.
I swallowed, my voice coming out hoarse. “Why are you telling me all this?”
Asher sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“Because I care about her. And I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”
I nodded. “You won’t.”
His eyes darkened. “We’ll see.”
Then, before I could respond, he stood.
“This is all you get for now. Don’t fuck it up.”
I watched as he walked away, leaving me with nothing but a list of facts about the woman I should have known better than anyone else.
And a gut-deep determination to prove I deserved a second chance.
*****
I couldn’t sleep.
No matter how much I tossed, turned, or buried myself under the covers—I couldn’t shut my brain off.
Rowan knew.
He knew about the twins.
And instead of feeling relieved that the truth was out, I felt uneasy.
I sat up, running a hand through my hair.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A message from Asher.
Asher: You awake?
I sighed, already knowing that ignoring him wouldn’t stop him from showing up at my doorstep.
Me: Yeah.
Seconds later—
Asher: Then open the door.
I groaned, pushing off the bed.
When I opened the door, Asher stood there with two cups of coffee, looking entirely too awake for this hour.
“You need a better sleep schedule, Laurent,” he muttered, handing me a cup.
I took it, too exhausted to argue.
We sat in silence on my couch, sipping coffee.
Then Asher spoke.
“He came to me.”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned to him. “What?”
Asher didn’t look at me. “Rowan. He met with me earlier. Wanted to know how to win you back.”
My stomach twisted.
I swallowed. “And?”
Asher sighed, rubbing his forehead.
“I told him things. Stuff he should’ve known about you. Favorite color. Shoe size. Coffee order.”
I star
ed at him, horrified.
“Asher.” My voice came out sharp. “Why the hell would you do that?”
He finally turned to me, expression tired.
“Because if he’s serious, I want to know. If he’s going to fight for you, I want to see if it’s real.”
I clenched my jaw, looking away.
“It’s too late.”
“Is it?”
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