Chapter 10 #2
I take a sip. The taste is sweet and tart, slightly citrusy. “It”s really good. Thank you.”
He smiles again, though it barely reaches his eyes. “I’m sorry for showing you that.”
“Don’t be. I needed to see it. My phone’s dead anyway, it would’ve taken me longer to find out.”
He draws in a slow breath. “If it’s any consolation, most people are smart enough not to believe everything they read on those sensationalist gossip sites.”
A bittersweet smile curves on my lips. “Well, they got one thing wrong—it’s eighteen years of marriage, not nineteen. We won’t be celebrating any more anniversaries.”
I say it lightly, but inside it breaks me. Because I always thought that, until the day I died, every anniversary would be with Colin.
“As for everything else... I don’t know who their sources are, but they’re not far off. The article spun their affair into this epic, forbidden love story and turned me into the plain, suburban, oblivious housewife who got left behind for someone younger and shinier.
But the facts are real… he did have an affair with his junior executive assistant.”
“I know you’re talking about how they portrayed you,” Alexander says, his displeasure unmistakable beneath the controlled tone of his voice.
“but I don’t like hearing it all the same.
There’s nothing plain or oblivious about you.
Your latest blog post proves that. And they know it—that's why they didn't mention it once in the entire piece. "
I look at him, caught off guard by the intensity in his expression. “Thank you,” I whisper, lightly brushing his hand where it rests on the couch.
A small spark, like static, runs through me. I pull my hand back, wrapping both hands around the mug instead.
I keep sipping the tea, and we sit in a comfortable silence.
And then it dawns on me. “Oh my God, I need to go home. I need to see my kids. They were supposed to go out with their uncle after school. I have to talk to them. I have to prepare them before they see this, before someone else does.”
The words spill out in a rush as I stand up too quickly, nearly spilling what’s left of the tea all over myself.
Alexander rises immediately, taking the mug from my trembling hands and setting it on the coffee table before placing both of his hands gently on my shoulders. “Cecily, I need you to take a deep breath, okay? I’m sure your kids are fine.”
I do as he says, inhaling slowly, trying to steady my pulse. My eyes locked on the intensity of his gaze, on the calm, the certainty he carries—letting his voice anchor me back to something that almost feels like peace. When my breathing evens out, he releases me and says, “Come on, I’ll take you.”
I shake my head. “My car’s just a block away, and home is less than thirty minutes from here. You don’t have to.”
“I insist. You’re not in a state to drive right now. Leave the keys with me. I’ll make sure your car is delivered safely later.” He looks at me with that same intensity. “Please, let me take you home.”
I nod, unable to argue, too drained to resist the sincerity in his voice or the way his concern feels genuine.
The elevator ride and the drive home pass in a blur. We don’t speak, but my mind is loud, crowded with a million thoughts all fighting to be heard.
Has Colin already seen it? Is he doing something to make it disappear? Can I stop the kids from seeing it before it’s too late?
Who are these sources who so easily handed over this story to a gossip site, but never thought to warn me? Not once did they stop to consider the damage this would cause to a family already breaking apart, splintering piece by piece?
Alexander parks in front of my house, just as the GPS instructed. For a moment, I hesitate to get out of the car. This small pocket of silence feels like safety, a place where nothing can reach me.
I draw in a slow breath and unbuckle my seat belt.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, his voice softer.
I glance at him and manage a faint, but sincere smile. “I will. I have to be.”
I reach for the door handle, but he stops me with a light touch on my hand. Then he gets out, walks around the car, and opens my door for me.
I step out and thank him as he closes the door behind me.
“You have my number,” he says, his voice naturally deep and commanding, now subdued.
Gentle in a way that makes it impossible not to feel the reassurance in it.
“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.
” He pauses, his gaze steady. “Anything, Cecily. Even if it’s just to talk. For no reason at all.”
I thank him again, for helping me with the paparazzi and for everything else he’s done.
I walk toward the house, his eyes on me the whole way. No car door. No engine. No sound of him leaving.
At the top of the steps, I look back. He hasn't moved.
I smile, small and grateful, then turn the key and step inside.
But the moment the door closes behind me and the living room comes into view, I wish I could go back. Back into Alexander’s car. Back to the silence. Back to anywhere but here.
Because right there, in front of me, on the couch, my daughter is sobbing in her brother’s arms, and Ethan has tears streaming down his face.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mark approaching, but I can’t move. Frozen. Staring at the scene that feels like one of my worst nightmares come to life.
“They already know,” he murmurs.