Chapter 19
ALEX
Eva’s breathing changes. It’s a soft, lazy shift from sleep to waking.
I lie still, watching her.
She’s here, stretched out in my bed, not bolting at dawn like last time. I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her tiptoe across the room. I thought she was sneaking out. But she just used the en suite bathroom and slipped right back beside me.
Early morning light leaks through the ancient windowpanes, slicing the room in soft gold and shadow. I never closed the shutters last night. The distraction was too great.
It can’t be later than seven-thirty. It’s Saturday, and breakfast isn’t until ten so Millie can sleep in.
We have plenty of time.
Eva stirs and opens her eyes. A small smile curves her mouth.
I run my hand slowly along her arm. She doesn’t pull away.
“Morning,” I say.
She smiles. “Morning.”
I scoot closer and lean in for a kiss.
She pulls away, her smile turning self-conscious.
“I must be smelly,” she says, tucking the sheet higher. “Didn’t have the energy to shower after…” Her voice trails off.
“After we fucked like rabbits in heat,” I offer.
She gives me that look, halfway between scandalized and amused. “Must you be so direct?”
“No,” I say. “I’m perfectly capable of policing my speech, if you want me to.”
She studies me for a beat, eyes narrowing. Then she shakes her head. “Actually, no. I’d rather you be frank.”
“Good. Because last night was…” I pause, my fingers tracing her hip. “Better than I imagined.”
Color blooms in her cheeks.
“It was,” she agrees before biting her lip, like she wants to say more but hesitates.
I think I know what it is.
I shift onto my side, facing her fully. “You’d like to say this doesn’t change our legal fight, right?”
She nods, gauging my reaction.
“That’s fine,” I say. “I can live with that. But please don’t say last night won’t happen again. Because that would be a lie.”
Her mouth twitches as if suppressing a smile.
That’s a good sign.
I press my luck. “Now that we’ve established it’s happening again—”
“Have we?” she interrupts, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Oh yes,” I declare, letting my hand slide lightly over her thigh. “The next question is, when?”
She squints at me. “Ideas?”
“How about now?”
“I’m flattered, but I need a shower,” she murmurs. “And coffee.”
I point to the coffee maker on the table across the room. “I’ll make you one. Tonight then?”
“Maybe.”
I find my boxers, pull them on, and beeline for the espresso machine. “Or, if the stars align, maybe this afternoon?”
“Afternoon?” she repeats with an arched eyebrow.
“Why not? We’re adults. We have doors that lock.”
She laughs softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Sure,” I agree, looking at her over my shoulder. “But I can’t wait until tonight.”
Her eyes hold mine, steady. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s not a no,” I point out.
“No, it’s not,” she says.
The espresso machine hums while Eva sits up in bed, knees drawn under the sheet, hair mussed from sleep. She watches me as if weighing something.
“You’re good for Millie, you know,” she says finally. “I hate to admit it, but you’re a great uncle. Whatever happens, I hope you’ll stay in her life.”
The words hit me so unexpectedly hard that I have to turn my back to her. When the coffee’s ready, I fill two mugs and carry them over.
“I will,” I say, setting one in her hands. “Count on it.”
She sips, staring into the steam. “I just… worry.”
“About?”
“If I can break the cycle.” Her voice drops low. “All the love I’ve ever known was of the corrupted kind, even from my parents.”
I find myself despising them already.
“I was raised in abuse,” she continues, “and then I married into it. What if I’m broken beyond repair?”
“You’re not broken,” I tell her.
Her eyes lift to mine, but they’re shadowed.
I should leave it there. Let it rest. But knowing when to shut up has never been my strength.
“You’re the most self-possessed person I’ve ever met,” I say. “So why stay with Geoffroy for sixteen years? Was it the money? A prenup that would’ve left you with nothing?”
She looks away, and regret stabs me.
I set my cup down. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“No,” she says, placing her cup on the nightstand. “It’s a fair question.”
I wait with bated breath.
“The first few years, I was madly in love with him,” she says.
“And then?”
“Then he changed, and I thought about leaving—many times. Yes, there was a prenup, but that’s not what stopped me.”
“What did?” I ask.
“At first, Millie was too little, so frail. I thought I’d let her grow stronger before I took her from her home.”
I frown. “And when she was older?”
Her gaze drops. “When things became unbearable, I told him I wanted a divorce.”
“And?”
“He said no fucking way, and then swore he’d fight me for Millie and he’d fight dirty.”
“How dirty?” I ask, unsurprised by Geoffroy’s threat.
Her voice is flat. “If I left, I’d never see her again.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “Son of a—”
“So, I decided to wait until she turned eighteen,” she cuts in. “Then I’d leave. Rebuild whatever was left of my life.”
“Four more years, huh?”
She nods. “I was at three years, eight months, and twenty-two days when he died.”
“Eva…” I begin.
She shakes her head, refusing comfort, and I respect that. Still, I slide a hand over hers. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers curl into mine. We sit like that for a while, coffee cooling between us, my mind churning.
Could it be that she’s starting to see I’m not the enemy?