She’s not wrong. Asher is all those things. But I’m a glass-half-full kind of person, so I never got frustrated with his long list of otherwise negative quirks. I use them to my advantage. I push his buttons. Force him out of his comfort zone. Make him see things a little differently. Sure, he does most things reluctantly with a snarl or a frown, but he does them. He’s not incapable of change. And frankly, it’s not my job to change him. It has to come from him. He has to want it. I can buy him all the Christmas trees in the world—fill his whole apartment with mistletoe and garland and animatronic reindeers—but ultimately, it’s up to him if he decides to keep them up.

“Me and Asher…” Francesca sighs. “We weren’t serious at the start. I don’t even think we were serious at the end. And I was okay with that at first, but at some point I wanted more than just a physical relationship. And Asher couldn’t give that to me, so I had to find it somewhere else—”

“Did you—”

“Cheat on him? Yeah, I did. Because I was frustrated and unhappy. And I know that’s not an excuse, but Asher made it so hard to open up. I felt like I couldn’t be honest with him.”

Asher failed to mention all of this. He’d been so open about his feelings for his father. Why wouldn’t he be honest about this? Why couldn’t he tell me the truth?

“You’re good for him,” she says. “And I know that it’s a two way street and you have to be happy with the relationship as well, but if your hesitance is stemming from his inability to open up then tell him that. Be honest with him. Because I don’t think he wants to lose you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he looks at you.”

* * *

Asher texts me just before noon. Instinctively, I ignore it. I know what he’s asking, and I haven’t decided if going to this party is a good idea. What’s the point of keeping up the charade? He made it clear that we were over. Francesca knows we’re having problems. I’m still upset about the events that transpired from my night at Boudoir. I’m pretty sure the only way tonight will end is with me in tears.

I’m so tired of crying.

Also, I don’t have anymore of my expensive eye masks and I can’t afford to buy more.

For my skin’s sake, I should just stay home and polish off a tube of cookie dough.