Chapter 34
Xander
Fuck, she is gorgeous.
Her hair is in a wild mess, her face pale, dark shadows rimming her eyes. And still, seeing her expands my chest, while taking my breath away.
Any version of her is simply something I want to keep seeing for the rest of my life.
Even after not seeing her for months, it’s comforting to see all her lines and freckles, the curls, the green of her eyes.
If this is all I get—because let’s face it, she didn’t exactly invite me over—it will probably sustain me for weeks. It would kill me, as well, but let’s hope.
Hope is the only thing I have left anyway.
We stare at each other, not moving, as if we’re afraid that the next breath, next step, next word will fuck everything up again.
For all I know, we’re still in the agonizing limbo we’ve been navigating since everything imploded. But, fuck, if her dinner invitation didn’t give me hope.
Yeah, hope is all I have left.
It wasn’t much of an invitation, but it was a tiny opening, and I’m going to stick my foot in that door even if it potentially crushes me again.
But I just stand here like an idiot, clutching a cat carrier in each hand, and offering all the eloquence of a lamppost.
Pitt mews—loud and offended—snapping me out of whatever haze her face, her presence, her fucking existence has thrown me into.
Her eyes flick to the carrier. “Are they—?”
I nod and gently set them down beside her. “They wouldn’t shut up the entire flight. I figured… you might miss them.”
I hope you missed me too, is what I want to say.
Dropping to her knees, she moves the carriers farther inside and unzips the front flaps with trembling fingers.
Pitt shoots out first, elegant as ever, tail flicking like he owns the place. Clooney follows, slower and suspicious, before trotting toward a patch of sunlight by the window like a man on a mission.
They roam the room as if they remember it. Like they’ve always belonged here.
Unlike me.
I’m still standing in the doorway, all six-foot-four of me taking up space I feel I no longer have a right to.
This used to be my house.
But it only took a few moments to see it came alive with her in it. Better. Brighter. Breathing.
Like me in her presence. Finally breathing. Finally feeling slightly brighter. Hoping to be better. For her. For me. For us.
Watching her kneel there, murmuring soft nonsense to those damn cats, glowing with something like relief… I feel it down to my bones.
The reality—one I orchestrated—is still tragic, though.
They’re home.
And I’m not.
I’m about to turn around, leaving her to enjoy the reunion, when Cora looks at me.
“You’re here,” she breathes.
I find purchase with my hand against the door frame, because I want to sweep her into my arms and never let go.
“I didn’t want to send them with a stranger.” I smile at her.
She blinks a few times. “But you’re here.”
“Obviously.” I shrug, and my foot moves forward, but I think better of it.
“But it’s been minutes since my text.”
“I—we…” I glance toward the cats that are both fighting for a spot on her lap, lucky fuckers. “Have been staying at the guest house on the other side of the pond.” I beckon with my head in the general direction of the backyard.
“Since when?”
Okay, I didn’t expect our conversation would take this direction, but whatever. She’s in front of me and we’re talking. “Since you arrived.”
Her eyes widen. She stands up, both cats grunting in protest. “This whole time?”
I nod.
“Why?” Her eyes dart between the door and me. Perhaps she’s deciding whether to let me in?
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
The least productive conversation in history, but here I am, grateful for her attention. “Maybe I didn’t want to be alone.”
“But I didn’t even know you were here.”
I shrug. “You didn’t want to know.”
She sags against the other side of the doorway. “Now I know.” A whisper of a smile touches her face.
I swallow, and consider falling to my knees and begging for forgiveness. But she doesn’t need my platitudes. Those are just part of the game… I don’t want to play games anymore. With anyone, but especially not with her.
I clear my throat. “I have cat food, litter, and their boxes in the car. Let me carry them inside.”
She nods, and I unload the truck, carrying everything to the kitchen. It’s like walking through a minefield. One wrong move and everything explodes.
“Thank you.” She fills the bowls with food and water and sets them all down on the floor.
Both cats dance between her legs and ignore the food, just seeking their owner’s warmth and snuggles.
Yeah, I’m an intruder here. A jealous one at that.
I’m jealous of her cats.
“You don’t need to thank me.” My voice cracks. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything…”
Fuck, what am I doing? What am I saying? She doesn’t want me around. I hurt her enough.
“I’m so fucking sorry about everything, Coraline.” I look at the door, but my legs don’t move.
“You didn’t tire of apologizing.” She picks up Clooney and scratches his neck, a hint of her usual sass coloring the statement.
“Someone important once told me it’s not a sign of weakness.” I step closer. “Besides, I owe you a lifetime of apologies.”
We stare at each other, and the air fills with something new. Or rather familiar.
She swallows. She licks her lips.
The tension between us shifts slightly.
It’s not angry desperation anymore. It’s not just unsaid words, late apologies, and pain.
It’s something tentative, physical. It’s like our bodies act on recognition, while our hearts hesitate.
“I was planning to go to that restaurant tonight.” The words come out uncertain, like she wants to stop them but can’t.
“You’ve been going every day.”
“Have you been following me?” She frowns, but she smiles. It’s the smile I fell for at the gala. The slight curve of her lips with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, like she is entertained and curious.
“Yes.”
“But I never saw you.”
“You didn’t want to see me. Besides, I have to confess that I’m still not good at accepting rejection.”
She opens her mouth, but I add, “Your rejection in particular.”
“What are you doing, Xander?”
It sounds like she is shutting down the opening, but it also sounds like a genuine question.
I’m trying to win you back.
“We’re going to eat our weight in pizza together,” I say instead.
She laughs, not yet with her usual abandon, but it’s a genuine laugh. It hits me in the chest with painful joy.
Fuck, I missed her laugh.
“Well, since I was going to go anyway...” There is some reluctance in her voice, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I bow. “My car awaits.”
She disappears and comes back with her huge bag. Fuck, I missed that clunky sack as much as her laugh.
“It’s not a date,” she warns.
It totally is a date. “Of course not.”
Shit, I’m lying the first ten minutes into my not-yet-confirmed second chance.
I always believed in the ends justifying the means and all of that… but with Cora, I learned it’s not always as effective as being honest.
But if it’s not a date for her, it is for me. Not the soundest logic, but I’m desperate.
We make our way to the restaurant in silence, filled with reminiscence and trepidation. Like it’s us, but it’s not. Like the betrayal caused damage that the distance deepened.
But I’m stubborn, and I refuse to accept that the time apart erased the good we used to share.
A short ride later, we arrive and find a table in the corner after the owner greets us.
“You know each other?” Cora asks.
“I’m a silent partner here.”
She snorts. “Of course you are.”
“He was going to close two years ago. It’s an honest, family restaurant, I couldn’t have the best pizza disappear.”
She smiles at me. “So you helped him.”
“So I helped him.”
She studies me, another louder whisper of a smile tugging at her lips. We order wine and starters.
“Tell me about your book,” I say, and my heart stutters when her eyes flash with excitement at the topic.
She talks about the stories, the illustrations, the process, and more. She hasn’t been this animated about the bistro. Ever.
Seeing her sitting taller, shining brighter, vibrating with joy, hits me like a freight train.
I can’t fuck it up.
I can’t fuck it up again.
I knew I missed her terribly, but only now do I realize how much. I’m getting another dose of her, and this time, the withdrawal will be fatal.
I can’t let that happen. But it’s not up to me. The lack of control is humbling. But I surrender to it, because she’s worth it.
“So… your text… Are you returning to New York?” I ask.
She sighs. “I love it here. I think I want to stay longer. But it doesn’t matter where I live.
The void you left…” She shakes her head, like she regrets the sentence I want her to finish so desperately.
“Not much good has happened in my life lately, but every time it does, I want to share it with you.”
I swallow. Fuck. The words rattle through me, leaving me stripped naked in front of her.
She can break me apart with her honesty, and I would let her any time. All the time. Forever.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She takes a sip.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Like you—”
“Like I love you?”
She flinches, the joy leaving her eyes as she swallows visibly. “Xander,” she breathes.
“Coraline, I love you. I can’t help it.”
“What are we doing?” she asks again.
“Eating our weight in pizza.”
“You know what I mean.” She groans.
“Still the same answer. There is no ulterior motive. You said you wanted to eat here with me, and so, I’m here.”
“You need to stop this, Xander. This is what broke us. You forcing your way into my life and fixing things. Making things happen, whether I wanted them or not. Taking my choices away.” She slouches back, looking away, tears brimming in her eyes.
Fuck.
“I wouldn’t force myself if you let me in.” I lean back. Fuck the food. I’m not hungry. Other than for her.
She rolls the rim of the tablecloth and unrolls it. She takes another sip of her wine. She wipes the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin. She puts it back down.
“I sense there are myriad objections brewing in your head. Voice them.” I put my hand on the table, wanting to take hers and feel her warmth, but I just fist it.
“There is only one.” She lifts her chin.
“Which one?”
“I’m scared you’re going to hurt me again.”
Me too. A platitude, a commitment, a vow is on my lips, but I lied to her enough already. “I’m scared I will fuck up, but not trying to do better by you scares me more.”
She breathes in deeply, as if my words deprived her of oxygen. “I don’t want to feel the void you left.”
The weariness in her tone cuts through me like a sharp knife. Will this hurt forever define who we are?
“Then let me in, Coraline.”
She leans back, hugging her midriff, shrinking away. And my completely mangled heart gets squeezed even more.
She’s not going to forgive me.
She’s already retreating.
“Let’s see how tonight goes.”
Oxygen leaves my lungs at her words, a sliver of hope blooming. “You mean this date?” I smile.
She sighs, covering her face and shaking her head. “You see… again, you’re changing the narrative to suit you.”
“But it suits you, as well.” I shrug.
Cora snorts. It’s not yet a laugh, but fuck if it isn’t a symphony this world needed. Well, I needed it.
“I want us to try, Cora. To try for real this time—vulnerable, messy, one day at a time—but I don’t think I can change completely. I can promise I will be honest with you, but I can’t promise to stop fixing things for you.”
Perhaps this honesty will cost me dearly, but I can’t pretend to become someone else for her completely. I will try to do better by her, but it’s me she fell in love with once. It’s the same me. With better morals. With less entitlement, humbled. But still me.
“Are we negotiating?” She gives me a lopsided smile.
“No, my love, in negotiations I would make sure the other party knows what they have to lose. Right now, I’m painfully aware of what I have to lose.
This is not a negotiation, because all the bargaining chips are in your hands.
I’m just begging you to give the entitled rich boy a chance.
And I promise, I will never lie to you or manipulate you. ”
A heartbeat.
She fists her hands.
Another heartbeat.
She looks away.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She looks at me, her gaze filled with pain but also with remnants of something else… like she used to look at me when she was tying my tie in the morning.
“There is so much hurt and lies… The way we started…” She looks away.
I’m not sure if it’s hesitation, or if she is just avoiding the confrontation.
She swallows, playing with a napkin and blinking as she looks through the window into the darkness outside.
God, she’s breathtaking.
She was that night at the gala too—but that was a superficial infatuation. A rush of lust and intrigue over a woman who didn’t care I existed. Who laughed without self-consciousness. Who danced like nothing else mattered.
Now I know better.
Now I see the layers.
The cracks. The light leaking through them. The way she carries the weight of responsibility—both needed and self-imposed—with a quiet grace that humbles me.
She’s still radiant—but it’s not the kind of glow that draws a crowd on a dance floor. It’s the low, steady kind that makes a house feel like home.
Like she’s been through shit, grown through it, and come out softer and stronger.
She sits in front of me now, but the absence of her, the one carved into every corner of my life, is still loud.
I broke the one thing I was desperate to keep.
This is what I did to us. She deserves so much more than all this pain.
I don’t deserve to sit here. I’m the villain in this part of her story.
I take her hand. It quivers in my trembling one. The connection is so tender, only reinforcing what I lost.
She definitely deserves so much better. She deserves the space I’ve never given her.
I graze my lips over her knuckles, get up, and walk away.