Chapter 25 #3
“Cecilia,” I interrupt, bringing my hand to her face, my thumb sweeping over her cheekbone. “I love my family. They will always be a priority, no matter where I live. But they want to see me happy. Happy and complete, not a man living a half-life, haunted by the absence of the woman he loves.”
I pause, letting the words sink in. I need her to understand that this isn’t just a rushed decision.
“And I will be happy wherever you are. So tell me. Without thinking about anyone else. Just you and me. What do you want?”
A bright smile spreads across her face, and she doesn’t hesitate.
“You,” she says simply. “Close. All the time.”
“Good.”
“What if you regret it? What if working here long-term isn’t what you want? What if one day you decide it’s not worth it... My life isn’t simple, Alexander.”
I hold her gaze, refusing to let her look away.
“Nothing worth having is ever simple,” I say firmly. “And I won’t be working forever. Where I work matters far less than who I do it for.”
I soften my voce. “Instead of imagining what could go wrong, imagine us twenty-five years from now. Celebrating our silver wedding anniversary.”
A shy, hopeful smile curves her lips.
“Yes,” I murmur, my hand sliding to her knee. “I want you to smile every time you think about our future.”
“I love you,” Cecilia says.
She sets her glass on the table and moves toward me, straddling my lap. Her hands rest on my shoulders. “I love everything about you. Every. Single. Thing.”
She looks at me as if she’s choosing me all over again.
“I won’t let my intrusive thoughts steal our days anymore.”
I cradle her face, holding her as carefully as if she were made of something irreplaceable. And she is.
“Ti amo. When I speak to you, Cecilia, it’s always from my heart,” I murmur. “Everything I tell you is born from what I feel. Remember that. Stay with what you’re feeling right now… not with what you think you should be feeling.”
She leans in and kisses me.
This kiss feels different from the others. We’ve moved past that desperate rush we had on the rug, and the intense hunger from the shower. This kiss is soft, lingering as I pull her closer. I feel her body sink into mine, every last bit of tension finally draining away as I touch her.
When we pull apart, I keep my forehead resting against hers before leaning back.
“So,” I say lightly, “this might be a good time to tell you that I bought the house across the street from yours.”
Cecilia gasps, pulling back to look at me. Her wide eyes search my face, looking for the telltale crack of a joke.
“You didn’t.”
I hold her gaze, my smile widening as I nod.
“You did—Alexander!” She laughs, the sound a mix of shock and joy, before burying her face in my chest, shaking her head “So you’re the one who’s been making all that noise in the neighborhood for the past two weeks? That endless renovation?”
I furrow my brow, pretending to give it serious thought.
“Well,” I say solemnly, “now that you know it’s me, I can finally send out gift baskets apologizing to the neighbors for the disturbance.”
My thumb brushes her spine as I add, “Don’t worry, I’ll deliver yours personally. With a special touch.”
She lifts her face. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she whispers.
I tighten my grip on her waist, feeling her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt.
“Yes. We are.”
I drop a quick, reassuring kiss to her lips.
“The house will be ready next week. But I’ll only move in when you’re comfortable with it. I won’t intrude on your space, Cecilia. I just wanted to be as close to you as possible.”
She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. “This building is barely thirty minutes from where I live, Alexander. Wasn’t that close enough for you?”
I pull her fully against my chest. “Sometimes,” I murmur, “even when we’re like this... it still isn’t close enough.”
She brushes her nose against mine.
“I feel the same.” When she opens her eyes and pulls back to look at me, the decision is already there. “Move in next week. Or whenever you want.”
I smile, and kiss her again.
“I’m going to make a quick trip to Pisa, five days at most. Just to see the family, pick up a few things, and finalize the move.”
“Did they already know?” she asks, curiosity in her voice.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.
“Before I even did. They were already placing bets on how long I’d last away from you.”
Cecilia laughs too, but then her smile falters. She looks away for a moment.
“Your family is incredible,” she says softly. “I know I rarely talk about my parents—beyond the past, I mean—but I’ll tell you everything eventually. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
I lift her face gently, my thumb brushing along her cheekbone, chasing away the sadness before it has time to settle.
“No secrets,” I say. “But everything in your own time.”
I kiss her then, taking my time. Her lips, her eyelids, her temple. I stand, lifting her into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her toward the bedroom, already thinking about the nights ahead… of her falling asleep in my arms, with nowhere else either of us needs to be.
Colin
The alarm goes off at four thirty, and I shut it down.
I sit on the edge of the bed and drag a hand over my face. On my therapist’s advice, I’ve started exercising again. I used to work out at Montgomery Clifford—before it became obvious that was no longer an option. There’s a gym in this building, but I chose running instead.
It’s better than being trapped indoors with my thoughts.
Yesterday, I couldn’t get out of bed. It marked one year since the day I came back from San Jose and learned that Ceci knew everything.
Every single thing I did.
Aside from taking Alicia to and from school, then dropping her off at Felicity and Oliver’s for a sleepover with Hazel and the other kids, I spent the entire day inside these walls.
If I don’t leave today, if I don’t run, I’ll fail the routine I’m trying to build.
Exhaling and force myself up, moving toward the closet. I change, grab my water bottle, take the elevator down, and the second my shoes hit the pavement, I start running.
I don’t play music. I want to hear everything around me.
My chest starts burning by the first block.
My legs protest like they’ve been betrayed in their sleep.
The freezing wind hits my lungs. I’ve been running the same streets for three weeks now.
It helps to have something to focus on. A routine besides waking up alone and not hearing Alicia’s voice telling me to hurry even though we’re on time.
From the outside, it probably looks like self-care. From the inside, it feels less like healing and more like punishment.
Four miles. Out. Back.
At first, I could barely make it through two. Now I finish all four. And keep running. I take the last corner with my chest on fire, sweat drenching my back and pasting the shirt to my body.
I ease into a walk. A few dragging steps, then I stop in front of the building, hands braced on my knees, breath tearing in and out of my lungs in short, harsh bursts. I twist the cap off the bottle with trembling fingers.
The water hits too cold and fast. I swallow in long pulls.
I push the door open, pass the doorman with a brief nod, and step into the wide, empty lobby.
I’ve barely pressed the elevator button when I hear another one opening across the hall.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up. It isn’t fear. It’s a tension that doesn’t come from thought, but from something much deeper than reason.
I turn my head. And everything inside me... stops. My lungs tighten, making it harder to breathe. My heart, already pounding from the run, now stumbles for an entirely different reason.
Because there are absences that leave scars in places they no longer exist. And things you feel even before you can see them happen. And when the doors finish sliding open... I stand there. Water bottle in my hand. Chest rising and falling too fast.
One of my worst nightmares playing in front of me like a horror movie.
Ceci is pressed against the steel wall, head tilted, eyes closed. A blissful smile on her lips, that tears something open inside me.
And him. Santoro’s body pins her there. Claims her there.
His hand… his hand is on her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress. His mouth is at her throat when he says,
“You’re intoxicating. I can’t stop touching you. Having you.”
Her fingers fist in his hair.
And when she opens her eyes, she smiles at him in a way she never smiled at me.
She looks at him with hunger. With a vulnerability and an openness she never gave me.
“With you... nothing else exists,” she whispers.
Her voice is breathless. Full of things I don’t want to hear. Or understand.
The bottle slips from my hand and hits the floor with a metallic clatter. They both turn toward me.
I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to hear anything else. But my body isn’t listening. And I can’t stop her voice from replaying in my head.
‘With you... nothing else exists.’
I close my eyes. When I open them again, they’ve already pulled apart, stepping out of the elevator, fingers laced.
Ceci parts her lips, as if to say something. I don’t hear a sound. I turn my back and head for the entrance. The moment my soles hit the pavement, I start running again.
Even as my muscles scream. I run.
I run as if I could rip the last image I saw reflected in those polished metal doors right out of my skull. I run as if my legs could carry me back to a time when she was my woman.
There’s a scream trapped in my throat. Tears and sweat run together on my face. The city rushes past me, nothing but a blur of concrete and buildings. That fucking scene is stuck in my head and it won’t shut off—playing on a loop like I’m being punished on purpose.
‘With you... nothing else exists.’
‘With you... nothing else exists.’
“It’s really over.”
Oliver lifts his eyes from his screen. “What?”
I turn toward the glass walls of his office.