Chapter 26
RAPHAEL
Idid not expect the door to open wider. I certainly did not expect to be invited inside. When Eleanor stepped back and gestured toward the entryway, I hesitated for half a second.
“I will not cause disruption,” I said evenly.
“That remains to be seen,” the woman beside her replied sharply.
Mel. I recognized her from the rink. She was assessing me protectively, and I respected that. But she had nothing to be worried about. I was here to beg for forgiveness, and I would leave if she was unwilling or unready.
I stepped inside.
The house smelled like coffee and something sweet, cinnamon perhaps. It felt lived in. The warmth was the opposite of the silent, sterile state I left mine in this morning.
Eleanor closed the door behind me.
Belle was standing near the kitchen table. She looked tired, both physically and emotionally. Her eyes finally met mine. I breathed a sigh of relief when there was no fear in them.
Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest. Mel mirrored the posture immediately. The symmetry was not accidental.
I inclined my head slightly.
“I understand, you are protecting your friend, I assure you I want nothing but to make this better,” I said.
Neither of them responded. Belle didn’t even move. I deserved this.
The silence stretched long enough that I considered whether this was going to work . . . but it had to work.
“I am sorry,” I said.
The words felt unfamiliar in my mouth.
“I am sorry for how I reacted last night.”
The room stilled. I have not said those words in years. Perhaps ever. I do not apologize easily.
I was not incapable of apologizing. I preferred to prevent errors rather than admit to them. But this was an error.
Belle’s expression shifted slightly. She wasn’t convinced yet, but she was listening. That was a start.
“I should not have raised my voice,” I continued evenly. “You did not deserve that.”
Mel’s jaw tightened, but she did not interrupt. Eleanor studied me with careful neutrality.
“I reacted to memory,” I said, choosing each word deliberately. “Not to you.”
Belle’s throat moved as she swallowed.
“That does not excuse it,” I added. “It explains it.”
Silence fell again. I let it stand.
Finally, I met Belle’s eyes fully. Relief flooded my system. Maybe I haven't lost her yet.
“May we speak?” I asked quietly. “Privately.”
Belle studied me for a long moment before she nodded.
It wasn’t an easy nod. It was measured. She turned slightly toward the other two women.
“You can go,” she said quietly.
Mel didn't move. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
“I’m not in danger,” Belle replied evenly.
Mel’s eyes flicked to me like she was testing that statement.
I held her gaze without flinching.
Finally, Eleanor touches Mel’s arm. “Kitchen,” she murmured.
Mel reluctantly followed her out of the living room.
Belle entered fully into the living room and sat on the couch. The room felt smaller once they were gone. I stepped forward slowly and took the seat beside Belle, just near enough to speak with my voice remaining soft.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” I said again.
She did not soften. She didn’t even nod. She just looked at me with a wounded glare.
I inhaled slowly. “I promise,” I continued carefully, “I will not let it happen with you like that again.”
The words matter. I did not offer promises lightly.
Her jaw shifted slightly, but she said nothing.
“Will you come home?” I ask.
The word slipped out naturally. Home. Her eyes lifted at that. I was the smallest of flickers.
She exhaled slowly. “I wasn’t just mad that you yelled,” she said finally. Her voice was steady. “I mean—I was,” she corrected herself. “You don’t get to roar at me because I walked into a room I didn’t know was sacred.”
“You’re right,” I answered quickly.
“But it wasn’t only that.”
I remained silent. She deserved space to say whatever she needed to fully.
“I told you everything,” she said. “About the van. About Dad. About not being able to afford an apartment. About feeling like I was drowning.” Her voice tightened slightly. “I let you see that.”
“Yes. You did.” I couldn’t seem to help it. I reached for her hand, and my heart soared when she didn’t pull it away. I held it like a lifeline.
“And I think I fooled myself into thinking this was something else,” she said, with a slight tremble of her lip.
The words landed with more force than the glare did.
“I let myself forget this was just a business arrangement,” she finished.
I did not interrupt, but she was wrong. She was so wrong.
“I agreed to a six-month fake marriage,” she continued. “I agreed to insurance, to cooking and cleaning.”
She looked at me directly now.
“I’m going to stay,” she said firmly. “Because I gave my word.”
I did not like that. I opened my mouth to tell her this was more, but before I could say it, she continued.
“But you do not get to yell at me like that again,” she added. “Ever.”
The line was a clean boundary.
I nodded once. “Never again.”
She studied me like she was waiting for pushback. There was none.
“I wasn’t angry at you,” I said carefully. “I was angry at memory.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
Silence stretched between us again. She looked tired. I wanted to say, ‘I do not wish for this to be a business arrangement,’ but this wasn’t the time. That conversation deserved more than a defensive moment in someone else’s living room.
“For now,” I continued evenly, “I would like you to come home.”
I waited.
I did not press. I did not bargain. I waited for her to choose as my heart pounded away in my chest.
Belle studied me for a long moment before she nodded.
“Will you tell me about the rooms?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
As we stood there in Eleanor’s living room, the weight of the morning settling into something more manageable, I allowed myself a quiet admission.
Somewhere along the way, I developed feelings for her. Not just the protective instinct that I thought it was. No, this was something real. It was inconvenient and destabilizing. It was also undeniable.
Now the challenge was not convincing her to return, but rather convincing her that this was not temporary. That I was not temporary. That this, whatever we were building, was no longer bound by a six-month clause.
And for the first time in a very long time, I found myself wanting to be chosen.