All Chapters of My Ex Fiancé wants be back, but my contract husband owns me: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

45 Chapters

Chapter Eleven

Amelia's POVI couldn’t sleep well after Damian showed up at my door. The wine had worn off by midnight, leaving me with a dry mouth and a head full of old memories I didn't ask for. I tossed and turned until the sheets twisted around my legs. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. The way his voice cracked when he said he never stopped loving me. The way his hands shook when he held out those white flowers. The way he looked when he walked away—shoulders slumped, defeated, nothing like the confident man who had stood beside Ivy at the engagement party. I didn't want to feel sorry for him. But I did. And that made me angry. By morning, I was exhausted and angry at myself for being exhausted. I made coffee. I stared at the wall. I thought about calling Asher, just to hear a voice that wasn't Damian's. But I didn't. I didn't know what I would say. Hey, your nephew showed up at my apartment drunk last night. He said he never stopped loving me. Anyway, how's your morning going?

Chapter Twelve

Amelia's POV The door swung open. Asher stood there. His blue eyes moved from Damian's face to mine. Then to Damian's hand on my cheek. Then back to my face. His jaw was tight. His hands were clenched at his sides. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The anger rolled off him in waves, hot and silent, filling the room like smoke. Damian dropped his hand. He stepped back, but he didn't look sorry. He looked pleased. Like he had gotten exactly what he wanted. His lip tilted upward. "Asher," Damian said, straightening his jacket. "I was just—" "Leave."The word was quiet. Low. But it cut through the room like a blade. Damian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Sure thing, Uncle." He walked toward the door, pausing beside Asher. "She still leans in," he murmured. "Remember that." Then he was gone. The door closed behind him. The silence was unbearable. Asher didn't move. He stood by the door, his eyes fixed on me, his chest rising and falling with breaths that were too c

Chapter Thirteen

Amelia's POV Sam showed up at my apartment on Sunday morning with a bottle of champagne, a stack of legal papers, and a grin that made me nervous. "It’s to make it official, aren’t you excited?" she said, pushing past me into the living room. "It's not official until we sign the documents." I rolled my eyes. "Exactly. That's why I'm here." She set the champagne on the kitchen counter and started opening cabinets, looking for glasses. "Where do you keep the good stuff?" "Second cabinet on the left. And we shouldn't drink before we sign. That's probably illegal." I tried to stop her. "Probably." She pulled out two glasses and handed me one. "But we’re lawyers. We know how to bend the rules. Plus it’s not an alcoholic wine." I took the glass. She poured. I didn't stop her. Sam was eight months pregnant and glowing in a way that made me want to hate her, except she was also the only person in the world who could make me laugh when I wanted to cry. Her hair was pulled up

Chapter Fourteen

Amelia's POV Saturday came faster than I wanted it to. I spent the morning pacing my apartment, changing my outfit multiple times, and trying not to think about the fact that I was about to have dinner with Asher's parents. By five o'clock, I had settled on a simple navy dress and my grandmother's gold necklace. I looked presentable. Nervous, but presentable. At exactly six, the doorbell rang. I opened it. Asher stood in the hallway, wearing a dark grey suit and a tie I hadn't seen before. His hair was neat. His jaw was clean-shaven. He looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine. But his eyes were still guarded. Still distant. He hadn't called me all week. Not once. The texts had been short. Businesslike. Saturday. 6pm. No warmth. No small talk. Just instructions. "You look nice," he said. "You too." He didn't smile. He just turned and walked toward his car. I followed closely behind him. The drive to his parents' house was quiet. He didn't play musi

Chapter Fifteen

Amelia's POV The apple pie was gone. Every crumb. Eleanor had made two, just in case, and even the second one had been demolished. Harold had eaten the last slice himself, claiming it was "quality control," and Eleanor had thrown a napkin at him again. They were still laughing when I helped clear the plates. "You don't have to do that," Eleanor said, reaching for the stack in my hands. "I want to." I smiled at her. She looked at me for a moment, her eyes soft, then nodded. "Fine. But I wash. You dry." It wasn't a question. I followed her into the kitchen. The kitchen was warm and cluttered, nothing like the cold, sterile one at my parents' house. Dishes piled in the drying rack. Magnets on the fridge. A calendar on the wall with handwritten notes in different colors. Harold dentist. Asher dinner. Call plumber. Eleanor ran the water. I picked up a towel. "You know," she said, scrubbing a plate, "when Asher told me he was engaged, I didn't believe him at first." "Why not?" "

Chapter Sixteen

Amelia's POV Asher's room was not what I expected. I had pictured something cold and minimal—grey walls, expensive furniture, nothing personal. The kind of room a man like him would have. Clean, and controlled. But this room was different. The walls were a deep blue, almost navy. There were books stacked on the nightstand, a worn leather armchair in the corner, and a quilt on the bed that looked handmade. Old. Well-loved. Photos on the dresser—him and Harold at a baseball game, Eleanor kissing his cheek at graduation, a picture of a woman I didn't recognize, silver-haired and smiling. "Your grandmother?" I asked. He followed my gaze. "Yeah. She died a few years ago. Kept telling me I needed to find a nice girl and settle down." "And did you listen?" I glanced at him. "I'm here, aren't I?" He shrugged. I smiled. He didn't. The door clicked shut behind us. The room was quiet, like there was something waiting to be said. I sat on the edge of the bed. He stayed by

Chapter Seventeen

Amelia's POV Neither of us moved. His hands were still on my waist. My hands were on his chest. The quilt was bunched beneath us, soft and warm, and the only light in the room came from the moon through the window. I could feel his heartbeat. Or maybe that was mine. "Asher," I whispered. He didn't answer. He just looked at me. His blue eyes were dark, searching my face like he was looking for permission. I gave it to him. I leaned in. The kiss was soft at first. Tentative. His lips barely brushed mine, like he was asking a question he was afraid to hear the answer to. I answered by kissing him back. Deeper this time. His hand moved from my waist to the back of my neck. His fingers threaded through my hair. He pulled me closer, and I let him. I had kissed him before. In the hotel room, when he was a stranger and I was half-drunk and running from a broken heart. At the contract signing, because Sam made us. But those kisses didn't count. They were performances. This

Chapter Eighteen

Amelia's POV I woke up to fingers tracing my face. Soft, slow, and feather-light. The kind of touch that wasn't trying to wake me, just... exploring. Like someone was memorizing the shape of my cheekbone, the curve of my jaw, the dip above my lip. I kept my eyes closed. I didn't want it to stop. The fingers moved to my forehead, smoothing back hair that had fallen across my face. Then to my eyebrow. Then to the bridge of my nose. I smiled. "I know you're awake," Asher said. His voice was low, and sleepy. "How?" I crunched my eyebrows together. "Your smile gave you away." He chuckled. I opened my eyes. His face was inches from mine. His blue eyes were the first thing I saw—soft in the morning light, still heavy with sleep, but focused on me. Completely. Like there was nothing else in the room worth looking at. "Hi," I said. "Hi." We lay there for a moment. His hand was still on my face. I didn't move it. "What time is it?" I asked. "Early." "How early?" "Early enou

Chapter Nineteen

Amelia's POV We stayed in bed until the sun was high enough to slip through the curtains and make a bright square on the floor. Neither of us wanted to move. Asher had his arm around me, his hand resting on my hip, his thumb drawing slow circles on my skin. I had my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Steady. Slow. The kind of slow that comes from not having anywhere else to be. "Your mom is going to come looking for us," I said. "Probably." "Should we go down?" I asked. "In a minute." He kissed the top of my head. I felt it everywhere. The room was quiet, it didn't feel empty. It felt full. Full of morning light and warm sheets and something I wasn't ready to name yet. "Can I ask you something?" I said. "Mm." "Why did you agree to the contract? Like what’s the real reason?" His hand stopped moving. I looked up at him. His face was calm, but there was something behind his eyes. Something careful. "I told you," he said. "I needed a wife for the

Chapter Twenty

Amelia's POV Asher drove me home on Sunday afternoon. The sun was out. The sky was blue. The kind of day that made you forget there had ever been rain. I sat in the passenger seat with my feet on the dashboard—something I never did, but Asher didn't tell me to put them down—and watched the city roll past. "You're staring," he said. "I'm just looking." "At what?" He smiled. "At everything." He glanced at me. His blue eyes were soft. He had been soft all weekend. Ever since we woke up tangled together in his bed, ever since we talked about real weddings and two months and things that felt too big to name. "You're in a good mood," he said. "I am." I responded. I thought about it. The pancakes. Eleanor's hugs. Harold's bad jokes. The way Asher had looked at me in the morning light, his hand on my face, like I was something precious. "I don't know," I said. "I just am." He reached over and took my hand. His fingers intertwined with mine. He didn't say anything. He didn't have

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