“Because you were drunk out of your mind at a company event,” he says. “Your death would have been an HR nightmare.”

“Sure.” I nod. “If that’s what you need to believe.”

I feed Prancer one last carrot before his caretaker insists it’s time for them to go back to the North Pole. I refrain from asking if I can go with them. Mostly because I’m fairly certain Asher would have jumped at the opportunity to get rid of me.

“You guys!” Francesca throws her arms around me and Asher, and because of the height difference, I almost end the night with a black eye. “I’m just so happy that we’re all happy. Doesn’t it feel nice to be this happy and in love? Because I was soooo worried about you, Ash. I’m so glad everyone was wrong about you. You can feel things! You have a heart! Love is soooo beautiful and everything is spinning! Merry Christmas!”

“Yeah,” Asher mumbles. “Think it’s time for you to go to bed, Frankie.”

“Noooo, I think there’s another glass of mulled wine calling my name!”

We watch her stumble and stagger through the crowds of people. She finds Brent talking to a few acquaintances and lunges at him in a fit of drunken giggles. It’s not long after that when Asher ducks inside, and I follow him through the hotel and up the stairs until we’re back in our room.

I spend the entire twenty minutes I’m in the shower thinking about what Francesca said. Ash has a heart? He can feel things? I mean, obviously. Just because he’s surly and closed off doesn’t mean he’s not capable of basic human emotions. Having been his girlfriend, I figured she knew that.

I sigh, pulling my hair into a bun as I walk out of the bathroom. Asher is already in the bed, blankets and sheets haphazardly thrown over his legs, the waistband of his boxer briefs peeking out. He’s not wearing a shirt. How promiscuous. A girl might get the wrong idea…

“Goodnight,” I say, turning towards the couch.

He’s watching a rerun of Friends with an intense focus, but his eyes flash to me briefly.

“Do you mind if I borrow a pillow?” I ask. “I’ll use a towel for a blanket.”

“Aren’t there pillows on the couch?” he asks. “I need to sleep with four.”

I blink at him.

“I’m kidding,” he says and his focus shifts back to the TV. “And don’t be ridiculous. You can sleep in the bed.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at him. He’s the most indecisive person I’ve ever met.

“You told me to sleep on the couch.”

He shrugs. “I figured you would put up more of a fight. I’m disappointed.”