Anywhere

by Jinsey Reese

  It was cool and dark. Quiet. Perfect. And my hopes rose. Up a steep staircase, Alessandro pushed open a door and I was stunned into silence. The room was absolutely gorgeous. Like a honeymoon suite—which made me so self-conscious about the thought of sharing this room with Asher that I couldn’t even look at him.

  The large bed lay in an ornate wrought iron frame, its blanket a soft cream over crisp yellow sheets. A large window opened up to a view of the countryside beyond the town—fields of grape vines spreading out for miles. The slight breeze lifted the long gauzy curtains into gentle flight.

  “Is a good room, yes? Okay?” Alessandro said, and I nodded mutely as my eyes met Asher’s.

  Did I want to share a room with Asher? My mind said Not a good idea, my body said Hell yes. I honestly didn’t know what to do and was trying to figure out whether I should try to find somewhere else to stay. Though in this little town, we were likely stuck.

  And what a way to be stuck.

  Plus I was a grown up. I could share a room with him. It didn’t have to mean anything was going to happen.

  Unless I wanted it to.

  Oh my god, I wanted it to.

  I realized Asher was waiting for me to say something, so I shrugged and said, “Do you mind sharing?”

  “Not if you don’t.”

  But he wouldn’t look at me for very long. He was looking unsure again. Or was he nervous? I couldn’t tell. Maybe he was regretting this. We followed Alessandro back to his office to pay for our room. I had no idea how we were going to do this.

  “So, food?” Asher said, and tilted his head toward the street. He didn’t seem ready for the awkwardness of our room yet either.

  “Sure,” I said, and we went in search of dinner.

  Let me just say that the food in Barolo was amazing. We found a restaurant with tables and chairs set up outside on the edge of this little piazza, with baskets of bread to dip in olive oil, alongside fresh mozzarella and pasta. Talking about nothing and everything, we both relaxed. It was such a relief.

  “Josh had really wanted to go to Sicily,” Asher said as we talked about the other places in Italy we’d like to see.

  “Why Sicily?” I said.

  “You know that guy in the Princess Bride? Vizzini? The little guy who masterminded the plot to kidnap Princess Buttercup? That was one of Josh’s favorite movies as a kid, and he’d loved Vizzini, who was a Sicilian and has this line about how no one can outsmart a Sicilian. When we were planning this, Josh said we had to go to Sicily. He was adamant about it.”

  “It sounds like you know that movie a little too well.”

  “You’ve seen it, right?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Asher’s mouth fell open. “You’re not sure? How can you not be sure? If you’d seen it, you’d know. It’s a classic.” He shook his head. “We’re going to have to remedy that as soon as possible…which I realize means about three months from now, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a MUST SEE.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen it.”

  “A TRAVESTY!” Asher clutched at his chest and fell out of his chair. I laughed as he pulled himself back up and sat down. “That’s okay. You’re still young. There’s time.”

  He aimed a dazzling smile at me, and if you’d asked my name at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. All I could think about was the fact that I’d be sharing a room with him that night, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to control myself if he kept smiling at me like that.

  Asher didn’t seem to notice and kept talking. “Plus,” he said, “that big scene from the Godfather part III was filmed there. So.” And when I didn’t react to that—I was still recovering from the smile and I had no idea what he was talking about anyway—he looked at me, aghast. “You haven’t seen the Godfather EITHER? I’m starting to question the obvious neglect of your parents right about now.”

  “My parents aren’t big into movies. Or books, for that matter. Or, really, spending time together.”

  “Really? That’s kinda sad.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the way I grew up. Everything was about appearances—doing the right thing, meeting their expectations.” I stared down at my almost-empty plate. “Which I am totally failing to do, in my mother’s eyes, by being here.”

  “Hey,” Asher said, and reached across the table to squeeze my hand.

  “But you know what’s funny? No matter how hard I’ve tried, I have never really been able to please her. Even when I was doing everything she wanted me to do.” I glanced over at him. He was looking at me, actually seeing me. The only person I’d ever talked to about this was Paige. I tried once with Blaine, but he’d brushed me off. He didn’t think it was right to talk bad about your parents. Ever.

  But Asher was listening. And wasn’t judging.

  “I’ve spent my whole life failing,” I said. “What’s once more?”

  “You’re not failing, Skye.” Asher rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand and I closed my eyes as his touch sent me spinning again. That was so not good, and I reluctantly pulled my hand away. “Unless you count our Quest for the Tackiest Souvenir, in which case you TOTALLY failed because I found the boxers.” I smiled and rolled my eyes at that. “But outside of that, nothing about you is a failure.”

  “You’ve only just met me, Asher.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Some things you can just tell about a person.”

  twelve

  I paused behind Asher in the doorway to our room and just stared at it again. It was seriously the most beautiful room I’d ever stayed in.

  “I never want to leave this place. EVER,” I said.

  “Right?” said Asher. “This is incredible.”

  Asher looked pretty incredible too. But I needed to not think about that.

  Okay. It was okay. I was an adult.

  One bed.

  “I’m in desperate need of a long, hot shower,” I said. “Do you mind if I go first?”

  “Go for it,” Asher said as his eyes scanned the room. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. There weren’t any chairs to sit on, just the bed. He put his pack down on a table and started to open it.

  I took mine into the bathroom with me.

  The private bathroom—the first I’d had since I left France—felt like a total luxury. I spent way too much time in the shower—it felt so good that I couldn’t help it. But once I was out and dressed, I felt suddenly and ridiculously shy.

  I didn’t have pajamas—all I wore to bed was a big t-shirt and underwear. I didn’t really want to wear a pair of shorts because they wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in, and I didn’t have anything else. I stood there in the bathroom for a long time, debating what to do. So long, in fact, that Asher asked if I was okay.

  “I’m fine!” I said, my voice sounding high and strained. I cringed and hoped he didn’t notice. Finally I took a last look at myself in the mirror—my t-shirt reached mid thigh so everything was covered, and besides what was I so worried about anyway because I was an actual adult. With a deep breath, I walked out into the room.

  Asher had settled himself on the bed and was reading, his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. When he looked up, his mouth fell open slightly as his eyes slid slowly down my t-shirt to my bare legs and then back up to my face.

  Then he lowered the book to his lap. And held it there.

  I could feel my face getting hot and looked for a place to put down my pack. I set it on the table next to Asher’s and pulled out my phone. If I checked messages, then I didn’t have to look at him and think about the fact that we were alone in this outrageously romantic room.

  Asher was beside me, pulling clean clothes out of his pack, and I could feel warmth emanating from his body even though we stood a good foot apart. I was so aware of the space between us that I had to concentrate on just breathing. When he went into the bathroom and shut the door, I realized I’d been holding my breath.

  Th
is was ridiculous. I was an adult.

  Which I think was part of the problem. I wanted to do some Very Adult Things with him, and wasn’t sure that was the Best Idea.

  I scooted onto the other side of the bed and slipped my legs under the sheets as I turned my phone on. There were a couple of texts from Paige, but nothing from my mother. Not that I expected much, but I’d have at least thought she’d respond to the text I sent her earlier.

  I should have been happy for the radio silence on her end, but tears started filling my eyes. It hurt, honestly. It hurt that she wouldn’t even respond to me. Hadn’t for days, in fact. She hadn’t acknowledged my texts since my last day in Rome.

  When my phone suddenly buzzed, it surprised me so much I dropped it. The screen read MOM.

  Oh, shit. I did not want to talk to her. Yeah, I was upset that she hadn’t texted me back, but that didn’t mean I wanted to have an actual conversation with her. And now the phone had rung too many times for me to just be able to turn it off without her knowing I’d ignored her call.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Well, you really are alive after all. How am I to know it’s really you when all I get are little three-word texts saying where you are. Anyone could be sending those just to make me think you’re okay.”

  “Really, Mom, I don’t think anyone would go to the trouble of sending you texts if they’d killed me. I honestly doubt they’d care enough to put up that kind of charade.”

  I was an ocean away.

  “There are unsavory sorts everywhere, Skylar. Don’t you forget it.”

  “How could I?” I muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, Mom.” I sighed. “Well, now that you have verified I am, in fact, alive, I’ll let you go.”

  “Skylar! At least tell me where you are. It’s the least you can do given that you’ve taken away what should have been the most special day of my life—watching you marry Blaine—after I was sick with you for almost an entire year.”

  An ocean away. A fucking gigantic ocean away.

  “I’m in Barolo, Italy,” I said. “And I apologize for ruining your life by not ruining mine.”

  There was silence on the other end and I was starting to think—and rejoice—that maybe I’d lost her. But then this heavy sigh, weighted with enough guilt I could feel it settle on my shoulders even from another continent, came through loud and clear.

  “That doesn’t sound like much of an apology to me, Skylar. And I honestly can’t believe you’d say that about poor Blaine. When he stopped over here today, he was just—”

  “WHAT?” I said. “Blaine was at the house? Why was he there?”

  “Well, he’s distraught, of course. Your wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of his life. He’s been welcomed into the family, Skylar. In fact, he should be a part of this family now. But I assured him you’d come to your senses after you got this ridiculous trip out of your system. Because you know you will never find anyone who will love you like Blaine does. Nor anyone who will put up with your nonsense.”

  My breath stopped and my mind raced, trying to figure out which of the thoughts crashing through it I could actually say out loud to my mother. It turned out not many.

  I spoke very slowly. “You told him I’d marry him when I got home? Seriously?”

  “Well, yes, in a roundabout way, I suppose I did.”

  “Are you out of your —” fucking “—mind, Mother? WHY would you say that to him?”

  “Because I have complete confidence that you will. Once you come home and we can talk this through like adults. You have to grow up sometime, Skylar.”

  I was at a loss. Angry tears spilled down my face and I was struck completely dumb. And then panic set in. She probably could talk me into it—she’d always gotten her way. And she was definitely going to try. I glanced up to find Asher standing over by the bathroom looking concerned.

  “Is everything okay?” he whispered.

  All I could do was shake my head.

  “Skylar? Skylar are you there?” My mother’s voice was laced with irritation. “Honestly Skylar, this is just so childish of you. When someone speaks to you, the polite thing to do is respond.”

  I held the phone out and just looked at it, feeling like I couldn’t get a breath in. My hands were prickling with pins and needles, and I was having trouble opening them. Dizziness swept over me and darkness threatened at the edges of my vision. Asher came over, grabbed the phone out of my hand, and said, “I’m sorry. Skye isn’t feeling very well. She’ll have to get back to you later.” Then he turned it off and threw it on top of my backpack.

  He rustled in his pack for a few seconds, pulled out an empty bag, then leaped over the corner of the bed to where I sat, my knees tucked up to my chin. He held the bag out to me.

  “Breathe into it, Skye,” he said. “Try to slow yourself down and breathe into it. Deep breaths. You’re hyperventilating.”

  The bag crumpled and then expanded with every breath I took. As my breathing calmed, my eyes filled with tears. I could never go home. My mother had been doing this my whole life—the woman was so good at getting me to do things I didn’t want to do.

  And yes, I was a full-fledged adult now, out of college, on my own. But she was still my mother. It’s not like she was going to give up control of my life now. Not if she could help it—that was becoming painfully clear to me.

  Even from an ocean away.

  thirteen

  Asher didn’t say anything else. Didn’t press me for answers to the questions I could see in his eyes. He just moved over onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me as tears slipped silently down my face. He didn’t shush me or tell me to stop crying like my mom always did. He didn’t seem to want me to be anything other than who I was.

  And I realized, as I lay there, that Asher had never once tried to get me to change my mind or talk me out of doing something. Anything. He’d simply gone along with it. Our relationship—whatever we were doing here—was different from any I’d ever had.

  “That was my mom,” I whispered when I could talk.

  “I wondered.”

  “She’s really unhappy with me. And it shouldn’t matter, but it does.”

  “Of course it does. She’s your mom. It always matters,” he said. “But I can’t imagine anyone truly being unhappy with who you are, Skye.”

  “You haven’t met my mother.”

  He laughed softly and pulled me closer to him.

  “She thinks I’m going to marry Blaine when I get home. She even told him I would. She said no one’s ever going to love me like he does. Or put up with me.”

  “Skye,” he said, and something in his voice made me turn to face him. He reached up and brushed the hair off my forehead, then stroked the side of my face. “It’s not true. I’m here with you right now, and I’m telling you it’s not the least bit true what she said.”

  I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. And good god, I was suddenly desperate for him to kiss me. I was so afraid of everything in that moment—my present, my future, whether I was on the verge of making a monumental mistake with Asher—but I didn’t care. I think a part of me wanted to prove my mother wrong—the other part just wanted Asher. Even if only for the night.

  So I leaned in toward him, all awkwardness gone.

  He ran a hand over my bare leg and I shivered at the sensation. I leaned closer, brushed my lips over his, lightly at first and then more intensely as I opened my lips to taste him. He deepened the kiss so gently, so sweetly, and it sent my heart hammering, my body humming. I rolled on top and straddled him, teasing his tongue with my own, tangling my hands in his soft hair.

  He broke the kiss, cupped my face, searched my eyes. “Do you?”

  Did I want to be with him? My body was giving a resounding Yes. I nodded, breathless at the thought.

  “We don’t have to, Skye. We can take it slow.”

  “You don’t wa
nt to?” Oh god, I’d just made a complete fool of myself. I started to turn away, to hide my face, but Asher stopped me, pressed his pelvis up against me and I gasped when his very obvious want pressed hard against my panties. I tried not to smile at that, but I couldn’t stop it. I loved that I’d done that to him. “I want you,” I breathed, aching for his touch.

  He didn’t hesitate, just brought his mouth to mine.

  I opened my lips to welcome him again and his tongue tasted my lips as he moaned ever so softly. The sound reverberated in my body, making me tingle in places I’d never known I could.

  I couldn’t get close enough to him. I pulled his shirt up to feel his skin. I suddenly had to feel him. All of him. He lifted his arms, his mouth still attached to mine, and I slid his t-shirt up and over his shoulders. He broke the kiss so I could pull it all the way off, then tossed it to the floor.

  I ran my hands over his chest and stomach, watched as his muscles clenched when my hands went low. He was beautiful—a mixture of hard and soft, muscle and flesh. He watched me as I traced him with my fingers, breathing hard from my touch. He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his heart. I could feel it pounding, fast and hard, in his chest.

  “This is you,” he said. “All you.” Then he reached for the bottom of my shirt, which had bunched up to my waist. He fingered the hem for a moment, then said, “You’re sure about this?”

  “Are you?” The girl he used to love was waiting for him. I needed to know he was factoring that in.

  He nodded, and I pulled my shirt up over my head and threw it over by his.

  Asher’s eyes got wide, and his breath caught. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, then he leaned forward and kissed me deeply, insistently. I smiled into his kiss, and he left my mouth to kiss up the side of my jaw and nip at my earlobe, sending little shock waves to my core. Then his mouth trailed down my neck to my collar bones. At the same time, he drew one hand along my side to my breasts, where he traced gentle circles on my skin.