Silly argument
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, too bright for my liking. I groaned, turning over, only to freeze when I realized I wasn’t alone on the couch. My head was resting on Asher’s shoulder, his arm still lightly draped around me.
For a second, I just lay there, wide-eyed and trying to piece together what happened. Wine. Tears. Exhaustion. I’d fallen asleep in his arms. Wonderful.
Slowly, I sat up, careful not to wake him, but Asher stirred, blinking himself awake. He looked at me groggily and then smirked, stretching his arms.
“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, his voice hoarse with sleep.
I rolled my eyes, brushing my hair back. “Don’t start, Asher.”
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?” I frowned, grabbing the throw blanket that had slipped off me and tossing it to the side.
“For being the human pillow you clearly needed last night.” He leaned back against the couch, grinning. “You owe me for that.”
I shot him a look, grabbing the empty wine glasses from the coffee table. “Oh, please. I don’t recall asking for your services.”
Asher chuckled, rubbing his neck. “You didn’t. I just happen to be a stand-up guy.”
I stood up, trying to ignore the awkward knot of embarrassment in my stomach. “Well, thank you for... for staying, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.”
I busied myself in the kitchen, rinsing out the glasses under the tap, hoping the running water would drown out the awkwardness that seemed to linger in the air.
“You okay?” Asher’s voice broke through the quiet.
I turned, towel in hand, and gave him a half-hearted smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“You cried yourself to sleep, Remi,” he said gently, his tone lacking the usual teasing. “That’s not ‘fine.’”
I stiffened, looking down at the counter. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Sure,” he said, standing up and stretching again. “But, you know, you don’t always have to handle everything on your own.”
I ignored that, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee. “What time is it?”
“Eight.”
“Great,” I muttered, taking a sip.
The sound of tiny footsteps thudding against the wooden floor saved me from further conversation.
“Mummy!” Laura’s voice rang out, and within seconds, both she and Larry came barreling into the room.
I turned just in time to kneel down and scoop Laura into my arms. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
Larry stood by the door, rubbing his eyes as he glanced at Asher, then at me. “You’re awake,” he said flatly.
“Barely,” I muttered.
Laura, ever the curious one, wiggled in my arms and turned to Asher, her eyes lighting up. “Uncle Asher, did you sleep here?”
Asher froze, his gaze darting to me for help. I cleared my throat, shaking my head. “He was just helping me with some things, Laura. That’s all.”
Her brow furrowed, and she glanced between us, clearly not buying it. “But why was he sleeping next to you?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from groaning out loud. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Asher added, smirking as he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair.
“Asher!” I hissed under my breath, glaring at him.
He winked and gave a two-finger salute to the kids. “Well, my job here is done. I’ll see you all later.”
“Bye, Uncle Asher!” Laura said cheerfully, while Larry simply nodded in his usual serious way.
Asher grinned at me as he walked past. “Call me if you need anything, Remi. I mean it.”
I gave him a look that said leave before I strangle you, but he only laughed as he headed out the door.
The moment it closed behind him, Laura turned to me, hands on her hips. “Mummy,” she said with exaggerated seriousness, “is Uncle Asher going to be our new daddy?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?! No! Where did you even get that idea?”
Larry sighed, shuffling past Laura to grab a juice box from the fridge. “She’s been saying that since last night.”
“Last night?” I echoed, narrowing my eyes. “What exactly were you two up to last night?”
“Nothing,” Laura said innocently, but her mischievous grin betrayed her. “We just saw you and Uncle Asher on the couch and thought maybe...”
“You thought wrong,” I cut her off quickly, shaking my head. “Uncle Asher is my friend. That’s it.”
“But he likes you,” Laura insisted, her eyes wide with certainty.
I groaned, covering my face with one hand. “Laura, please.”
Larry, sipping his juice, piped up. “I told her he’s just your friend. But she doesn’t listen.”
“He’d make a good daddy,” Laura said stubbornly.
“Laura!”
“What?” She shrugged. “He’s nice, he brings us snacks, and he makes you smile. Isn’t that what daddies are supposed to do?”
I blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “Sweetheart, it’s not that simple.”
Larry, ever the serious one, spoke up. “I still think Handsome Uncle is better.”
Laura shot him a glare. “You always say that! Why do you like him so much?”
“Because he’s smart,” Larry replied matter-of-factly. “And rich. And cool.”
Laura scoffed. “Uncle Asher’s cooler.”
“He’s not a billionaire,” Larry countered.
“Money doesn’t make someone fun!” Laura argued.
The two of them launched into a mini-debate, their voices rising as they defended their chosen “daddy candidate.” I stood there with my coffee mug, watching them like I was trapped in some bizarre reality show.
“Okay, okay!” I finally interrupted, waving a hand. “Enough, both of you!”
They quieted down, both turning to look at me expectantly.
“First of all,” I said, pointing at each of them in turn, “neither Uncle Rowan nor Uncle Asher is going to be your daddy. Secondly, you don’t get to ‘pick’ one. This isn’t a contest.”
“But—” Laura started.
“No buts,” I said firmly. “This conversation is over. Go wash up and get ready for breakfast.”
They both groaned but obeyed, shuffling out of the kitchen while continuing their argument in hushed tones. I caught bits and pieces—“Asher makes pancakes!” and “Rowan has a jet!”—as they disappeared down the hall.
I sighed, collapsing into a chair and resting my head on the table. “Unbelievable.”
The sound of my phone buzzing on the counter pulled me out of my momentary daze. I grabbed it, squinting at the screen. A message from Rowan.
Good morning. I assume you survived the rest of yesterday.
I stared at the words, groaning softly. “Why is my life like this?”
From down the hall, I heard Larry shout, “Uncle Rowan wins!”
Laura’s voice followed. “No fair! I want panc
akes!”
I shook my head, muttering to myself as I reached for my coffee. “I’m going to need a lot more caffeine to survive this day.”
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