BENEATH THE SURFACE

Chapter Thirty-Four

ASHER

"What happened, Asher?" My mother gently asked. Her hands cradled my face as I sat on the couch, my expression void of emotion because, to be honest, I had spent the past four weeks guarding myself from feeling anything.

During the initial week, I relied solely on alcohol, but after a few days, I realized I needed something more as it wasn't sufficient to quiet my thoughts.

Week two flew by, with each night finding me in bed with a different girl. Although I limited our interactions to shallow kisses, I was searching for something in each of them.

In week three, I continued the same pattern, bringing women home, desperately searching for whatever was missing, only to throw them out the next morning when I realized I wouldn't find it.

Today marks the fourth week since I last saw her. I initially thought it would be simple to sever ties and feign ignorance of her existence, especially considering her actions. I wanted clarity about the entire situation and a true understanding of what had happened. However, I had come to terms with the likelihood that I might never attain that, leaving me with nothing but my own assumptions.

I had never been inclined to pray to God, despite my family's strong religious beliefs. However, over the past week, I found myself kneeling beside my bed and fervently praying that Isabella truly was unaware of the entire situation.

My mother's gentle touch abruptly brought me back to reality as she gazed into my eyes. "Nothing happened," I declared, pushing her hands away from my face.

"This doesn't appear to be nothing," she remarked, her voice as resolute as ever. I surveyed the chaos in my penthouse, with shattered glass strewn about from a fit of rage I had unleashed.

I shook my head, allowing it to slump between my shoulders. My mother knew me better than anyone on this planet, and I couldn't deceive her. Given her knowledge of that, she never allowed things to pass without receiving the truth.

"I met a woman," I whispered, not wanting her to occupy my thoughts any more than she already did. It felt selfish, but I secretly wished that somehow I could be on her mind as much as she was on mine.

I was the one who pushed her away and forced her to walk away from me, yet I wanted her to understand my pain. She had been the first woman to evoke any emotions in me, and with each woman I invited into and dismissed from my bedroom, I sought to find that spark she had.

"A woman?" My mother sounded surprised, sitting beside me on the couch and gently rubbing my back. "What's her name?" she asked.

I shook my head once more, fatigue settling in as I muttered, "I don't want to talk about it," and rested my head in my hands, longing for respite from the ceaseless thoughts.

"It's important to talk about the things that are holding you back," she whispered, gently nudging me with her shoulder. Her words rang true: Isabella leaving had become a heavy burden. I hadn't set foot in the office for four weeks, and my business was my life.

From time to time, Taylor would send me emails, asking about Isabella's well-being and her potential return. I had noticed the bond they had developed during the brief period Isabella was there, but deep down, I knew she wasn't coming back.

No matter how long I fixed my gaze on the elevator, hoping for it to miraculously open and reveal Isabella standing there, I knew it wasn't going to happen.

"I think she had something to do with Kady and the baby," I suddenly mumbled, torn between the desire to confide in my mother about what was truly eating away at me.

Her eyes widened in surprise at my statement. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hand no longer moving back and forth on my back.

"She told me she gave her daughter up," I explained, my voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "And a woman approached her at the courthouse, saying she wanted her to meet Lily May." A deep breath escaped me as I finally spoke the issue aloud.

I allowed my mother a moment to understand what I had just said, resting my forehead on my hand as I closed my eyes, attempting to block out the bright sunlight streaming in.

"What baby, Asher?" My mother's words abruptly captured my full attention. "Kady couldn't have children," she continued, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Didn't she tell you?"

A chill crawled up my spine as my mother's words sank in, making me realize there was a much larger and more complicated picture that I had been missing. Those few words had just deepened the complexity of the situation, leaving me struggling to comprehend it all.

I stood up from the couch, a sense of betrayal taking hold in a way I hadn't considered before. "No," I whispered, my voice trembling. "She was pregnant, she showed me the test." I cradled my head as I recalled the memory, the image of her hands on her stomach as I looked at the test, savoring the thought of becoming a father.

"Honey, she's infertile," my mother clarified, as if emphasizing the point I might not have fully grasped. "Whatever test she showed you wasn't real." I let out an exasperated breath, feeling as though the room was closing in on me.

This changed everything, but I couldn't quite wrap my head around any of it. Kady had lied about the entire situation? Questions swirled in my mind, leaving me puzzled. What baby had she given up?

Suddenly, my mother leaned her head against my shoulder and whispered, "I'm truly sorry for whatever you're facing, my sweet Ash," as she gently shifted a strand of my hair. "I hope tonight's ball provides you with some relief." I managed a fleeting smile in response to her comforting words, even though recent attempts at consolation had proven futile.

"Are the Leighton's still attending the ball?" I asked as my mother rose from the couch to answer her phone, which had been vibrating for the past twenty minutes. "Of course they are," she replied hastily before stepping away to take the call.

Though I was looking forward to finding some relief from this night, I knew it would likely be far from comforting, given the numerous questions I intended to get answers to.

Fidgeting with the black band on my finger, I rose from the couch and headed toward my bedroom, determined to seek the closure I needed.