When I decided to come here tonight, I anticipated us arguing over the cake. I figured he would appreciate the thought I put into his gift. I thought we’d argue over what we’d watch on TV and maybe we’d make out a little. Or a lot. With some friendly over-the-clothes touching. And maybe a little under-the-clothes touching too.

Instead, he puts his heart on a silver platter. The most honest he’s ever been with me. Maybe even himself. I want to hug him. Mostly, I want to find River McGowan and tell him what an awful father I think he is.

“I really know how to bring down the mood,” Asher laughs and steals the bite of cake that’s been sitting on the fork before he takes my empty glass off the table. “I’ll get you more wine.”

“You know how I get when I’m drunk.”

“Sloppy and horny?”

“You’re a lucky man.”

He walks over to the kitchen. I’m half tempted to change the channel, but I resist. Instead, I stand up and walk over to the window.

“Ash? Do you have any of that expensive chocolate you keep in your desk?”

“How do you know I keep expensive chocolate in my desk?”

“Urban legend.”

Outside, the snow is falling in thick, fat flakes, masking the sidewalks in a crisp layer of white. The lamps glow against the frosted windows of empty stores, illuminating the abandoned street. The traffic lights change from green to yellow to red in an endless loop. There are no cars or people or signs of life. Moments like these are rare. I stop and drink it in.

“It’s so quiet.” I can feel Asher behind me, his chest flush with my back. I relax against him.

“I think that’s my favorite part about the snow,” he says, handing me my wine.

“That the city just stops?”

“You can think for a minute.”

“All I can think about is how fun it’s gonna be to get home,” I laugh into the glass. “I might have to shovel my way down to the subway—if it’s even running.”

God.

I’m going to have to walk home in a foot of snow.

“Stay.” He says it quietly and without hesitation. “The roads look terrible.”

“Are you concerned about my safety?” When I turn around, he pops a piece of the expensive chocolate into my mouth.

“Of course not,” he says. “I’m not about to let you disturb the peace.”

“You’d much rather I wreak havoc in your apartment?” I take a step closer despite already being pressed against him. “What sort of trouble can I get into here?”

He shoves another piece of chocolate into my mouth. “Sit on the couch and be quiet.”

“I only like to be bossed around in the bedroom.”

“Olivia.”