Asher’s POV
“Are you okay, man?” Luca asked for the umpteenth time that week. We were in my living room.
I turned to glare at him. “What do you think?” I turned back to stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was sticking out oddly because I had run my fingers through it repeatedly. I was sporting stubble on my chin and jawline, and my eyes looked sunken, like I hadn’t slept in days—which wasn’t far from the truth.
“You look like s**t, and I’m genuinely worried,” he said.
I exhaled. “Luca, I told you I was fine. You didn’t have to stop by.”
He eyed me. “Yeah, of course. There’s absolutely no reason to be worried about you right now.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, can’t you just call her? She’s your wife, isn’t she? And you definitely miss her.”
Damn right I did.
