Chapter 28
everything I am
Alexander
“Is that scallion ever going to be ready?” I ask, watching the movement of her hands, the careful way she works the knife. “The sirloin and the vegetables are just about done. I’ll take them out of the oven in ten minutes.”
She narrows her eyes at me, a small smile playing on her tempting lips. “You’re the one who asked me to chop it. If you think it’s taking too long, you can do it yourself.”
I step in, leaning closer to brush my mouth on hers. Then I graze her earlobe with my teeth, just enough to catch one of those sounds she always makes.
“When are you bringing the rest of your things here?” she murmurs.
“Tomorrow. The movers will bring what I want from the penthouse. And I think after dinner tomorrow, or maybe the day after, I’ll start staying here full-time.”
She turns to look at me. “Nervous about the dinner?”
“Should I be?” I ask, smiling.
She rises onto her toes and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Not in the least.”
Easy for her to say. I have no intention of being anything other than myself, or of pretending I don’t want them to know me, but that doesn’t mean the apprehension isn’t there.
I watch her for a second as she goes back to chopping. She’s wearing the dress from earlier, and nothing beneath it now. To keep my mind from wandering too far, I ask the question that’s been on my head for days.
“Have you thought about Christmas?”
She finishes, sets the knife down with care, and moves to the sink to wash her hands.
“I’m not sure. Probably just me, Ethan, and Alicia. Mark usually goes to New Orleans to spend the holidays with his grandmother.”
She dries her hands and turns back to me.
“You’re going to Pisa, I assume.”
“I could stay here with you,” I say, choosing my words. “If you don’t think that would be too much.”
She steps closer, her hands resting on my chest.
“I already get you every other day,” she says softly. “I won’t take you away from your family at Christmas too.”
I shake my head.
“Cecilia,” I say, holding her gaze, “we’ve talked about this. You’re not taking me from anyone, and you’re not taking anything from me. I’m choosing you. Us. We’re choosing each other.”
“Spend Christmas with your family. Come spend New Year’s Eve with me, if you want. Don’t worry about me.” She replies gently.
For a brief moment, I picture all of us in Pisa, her children enjoying Christmas at my family’s villa. I know they would love it. But it’s too soon. I haven’t even met them yet. Some things require time.
I hold her gaze, then kiss her forehead. The bridge of her nose. I take my time kissing her lips.
“I’m pulling dinner out of the oven,” I whisper, my mouth on hers.
As Cecilia sets the table and I cut the meat, I realize I’m already making plans for what comes next.
When the elevator chimes and the doors slide open, I wait, just long enough to question myself. Then I step out anyway. If only knowing it’s the right thing to do would make this easier. Releasing a breath, I walk toward the elevator on the other side of the empty hall.
The floors tick by. When the doors open on his floor, I force my instincts into check. There’s no room for emotion right now, only rationality. I need to keep my mind clear.
I stop in front of his door and knock twice. It takes a few seconds before it opens.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his tone biting.
Think of Cecilia. Stay calm.
“I think we should talk, Montgomery,” I say evenly. “If I were in your position, I’d want the man who’s about to enter my children’s lives to have the decency to speak to me openly.”
His jaw tightens. After a brief hesitation, he steps aside and lets me pass. I don’t bother taking in his place, keeping my focus on him.
When he gestures toward one of the armchairs, I choose the one directly facing him on the couch and get straight to the point.
“I don’t like you,” I say calmly. “But I’ll respect your role as the father of Cecilia’s children. For the woman I love, I’ll learn to do so.”
His stare hardens. His hands grip the couch hard enough that the leather strains beneath his fingers.
“Does Ceci know you’re here?” he asks through clenched teeth. “Is that what this is? You came to gloat?”
My jaw tightens at the intimacy in his voice as he says her name.
“Yes. She knows. I don’t hide anything from her,” I reply evenly. “I came to do what any decent man would—speak to you before stepping into your children’s lives. I’m having dinner at Cecilia’s tonight, and I’ll be meeting Alicia and Ethan properly. As I know she’s already told you.”
I pause, allowing the words to sink in.
“I also want to make one thing clear,” I continue. “Your children are safe with me. I’ll be there for them, the same way their mother knows she can rely on me for everything. But I’m not trying to take your place. And I’m not here to boast.”
That makes him laugh.
“So you’re with my wife, now you’re having some cozy little dinner with my kids, and you’re telling me you don’t want my place,” he says, a vein standing out at his temple. “Spare me the Good Samaritan act, Santoro. From the first time I saw you, I knew—you wanted Ceci.”
My hand tightens into a fist against the armrest as I stand. He rises too, straightening, trying to gain height where he lacks ground.
“Ex-wife,” I say calmly. “The ink on the divorce papers has been dry for a long time.”
I meet his stare without flinching. “And whatever I may have felt, I never crossed a line. I respect the vows other people make.”
The words land exactly where they’re meant to. He falters. I see it in the brief flash of guilt in his eyes as his own hands curl into fists.
“I’ve said what I came here to say. Your children are safe with me. I will respect your place as their father, regardless of what I think of you as a man.”
My voice never goes up. I give him a quick nod and start for the door, turning back at the last second.
“You know, looking at you and resisting the urge to punch you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
“Be my guest,” he says, opening his arms, daring me.
I raise an eyebrow. “And have your daughter hate me before she even knows me, because I hit her father?” I shake my head. “I’m smarter than that, Montgomery. And Cecilia deserves more from me than acting like a man with a bad temper and no control.”
I turn again, but I stop to add one more thing, my voice sounding amused. “I’m glad Mark got a couple of good punches in when he had the chance.”
“Of course that asshole is still bragging about it more than a year later,” he mutters behind me.
I huff a short laugh as I step out of his penthouse and head for the elevator.
I close my eyes and draw in a breath to gather myself. I hear the door open before I finish inhaling. When I open my eyes, Cecilia is standing there, watching me with a curious, amused expression.
“Admiring the door handle,” she asks lightly, “or wondering if you have time to get back in the car without anyone noticing?”
I step closer, balancing the bouquet and the wine in one hand as I lift the other to her face, my thumb brushing her cheek.
“Never.” I smile at her. “I’ve been counting the minutes for this dinner.”
Her smile spreads. She glances over her shoulder, then rises onto her toes to press a brief kiss to my lips.
“I couldn’t wait for you to get here either,” she whispers, taking my hand. “Come on, they’re just finishing setting the table.”
We step inside together, and I close the door behind us.
I hand her the bouquet—the same flowers I’ve been sending her—and she accepts it with a smile, setting it on the coffee table beside the wine.
Cecilia leads me toward the dining area, where Alicia is adjusting the centerpiece and Ethan is finishing setting out the glasses. He says something to his sister that makes her wrinkle her nose, then leans in to poke at her side. They both dissolve into laughter, leaning into each other.
“When Ethan is with his sister, they look the same age,” Cecilia murmurs. I turn to her and find her smiling. “And I love that they’ve always had that bond. That him getting older never pulled him away from Alicia, if anything, it only strengthened it.”
I smile and give her hand a gentle squeeze.
They notice us then and stop laughing. Alicia blushes, smoothing the sleeves of her dress. Ethan steps slightly in front of her as they walk toward us, one hand hovering at her back. It’s a protective gesture that seems to come to him so instinctively, it almost pulls a smile from me.
Cecilia releases my hand and steps forward.
“Alicia, Ethan—you remember Alexander.” Her voice is calm. “But I’d like to introduce him to you... as my boyfriend.”
She gets the words out and smiles, looking right at them.
I try, and fail, to hide the smile that curves at the corner of my mouth. I know I’ve failed when she glances at me, eyes narrowing just a touch, reading me perfectly.
We talked about this. About how she wanted to introduce me to them. I told her she should do it in whatever way felt most natural to her.
She once asked me how I would introduce her to people.
“My Cecilia,” I’d answered without thinking.
“Just that?” she’d asked, skeptical.
“Yes,” I’d said, smiling. “Girlfriend is too small a word for everything you are to me. But you can call me your boyfriend. I’ll gladly accept every title you give me in what I fully intend to be a very long, very happy life together.”
She’d held my face in her hands and kissed me then.
Standing here now, watching her with her children, I know that I meant every word.
I bring my attention back to the present just in time to shake Ethan’s hand. His grip is firm for someone his age, not an attempt to intimidate, but to assert himself. I respect that instinct.
“It’s really good to see you again, Ethan,” I say, meeting his eyes.
He nods, serious. “It’s good to have you in our home.”
He steps aside, and Alicia reaches out next. I take her hand gently.