10. Parallel Desires #2
His face splits into a grin so bright it could power the whole damn city. “Really? Like, for real? When? Can I be in the wedding? Do I get to wear a suit? Will there be cake?”
Christ. This kid. His rapid-fire questions wash over me, and I find myself chuckling despite the gravity of the moment.
Even Eve can’t hold back her smile. “Yes, for real. Next week, actually.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the counter.
“And of course there’ll be cake. What kind of wedding doesn’t have cake? ”
“Next week?” He bounces in his seat, nearly knocking over his orange juice. I catch the glass just in time. “That’s so soon. Can I be the ring bearer? Please? I promise I won’t lose them?”
The excitement in his voice fills the kitchen, bouncing off the granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.
His small body vibrates with energy as he grabs Eve’s hand and pulls her in for a tight hug.
The sight brings an unexpected smile to my face—this kid’s enthusiasm is fucking contagious.
Eve wraps her arms around him and kisses the top of his head. “I’m glad you’re excited, sweetheart.”
“I get to have cake at the wedding.” Leo claps like that’s the best part. “Can it be chocolate? With strawberries? And those little silver ball things that look like robot eggs?”
For a moment, I almost forget where I am as he and Eve dance around and discuss wedding plans. Almost forget who I am— what I am. Almost forget the blood on my hands and the threats hanging over our heads.
The smile that’s been tugging at my lips grows wider as Leo continues his excited rambling, listing off increasingly elaborate wedding cake designs and asking if he can wear a bow tie “just like James Bond.”
I step into Dr. Stone’s office, and the walls press in closer than usual.
The familiar scent of leather and something floral usually provide comfort.
Now, they are cloying, suffocating. My footsteps echo against the hardwood floor as I make my way to my usual spot—the oversized leather armchair that’s molded itself to my form over countless sessions.
Christ, I hate this feeling. The heaviness, like someone’s stacked concrete blocks on my ribcage. Ever since our last session, when we delved into the shit with my parents’ death, everything’s felt … suffocating. More real. Like picking at an old scab only to find the wound underneath still bleeds.
I settle into the chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. The sound reminds me of late nights at the club, the constant ambient noise of bodies shifting on leather seats. At least there, I’m in control. Here? Here I’m just another fucked-up soul trying to make sense of the chaos in my head.
My eyes drift to the degrees mounted on the wall—Dr. Elena Stone’s credentials displayed in neat rows. They mock me with their pristine frames and perfect alignment. How many other broken people has she tried to fix? How many actually walked out of here whole?
My hands grip the armrests, fingers pressing into the worn leather.
The wedding’s in a week. Eve’s face flashes through my mind—the way she looked this morning in my kitchen, that almost-smile when she caught me cooking with Leo.
Another complication in my already fucked-up life that Dr. Stone will want to dissect.
I inhale deeply, trying to center myself. The air feels thick, weighted with all the things I need to say but don’t know how to voice.
“How have you been, Zeke?” Dr. Stone’s voice cuts through my brooding. She sits behind her desk, pen poised over her notepad, watching me with those shrewd eyes behind her dark-rimmed glasses.
I grunt, shifting in the leather chair. The words stick in my throat like tar.
How the fuck do I even begin to explain this mess?
That I’m marrying a cop—the same woman I walked away from a year ago without warning.
How I walked away to keep her alive after learning she was a cop. Now we’ve come full circle.
“I’m getting married,” I finally say, the words falling flat in the quiet office.
Dr. Stone’s eyebrows lift slightly. “This is new. Would you like to tell me about her?”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the gray strands between my fingers. Christ, I’m too old for this shit. “Eve. Her name is Eve. She’s…” Beautiful. Strong. A fucking detective who could destroy everything I’ve built. “Complicated.”
“How so?”
My jaw clenches. The sunlight streaming through the window feels too bright, too exposing. “She’s raising her nephew. Kid’s name is Leo. Parents are dead.” I pause, the unspoken truths pressing down on my chest. “She’s also law enforcement.”
Dr. Stone’s pen scratches against paper. The sound grates on my nerves. “That seems to trouble you.”
A harsh laugh escapes me. “Trouble me? Doc, everything about this situation is fucked. Her life is in danger and it’s my fault. Now I’m forced to protect her, and she looks at me like …” The memory of Eve’s wary glances this morning twists something in my gut.
“Like what, Zeke?”
Like she’s trying to solve a puzzle she can’t quite figure out. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she remembers every fucking moment we shared before I walked away, and it haunts her as much as it haunts me.
I lean forward in the leather chair, elbows on my knees, and finally meet Dr. Stone’s steady gaze. “The thing is…” My voice comes out rougher than intended, and I clear my throat. “The thing is, I’ve known Eve for a while. We dated briefly last year.”
“And how did that end?”
“I walked away. Vanished on her.” My fingers clench into fists. “I had my reasons.”
“But now you’re marrying her.”
“Yeah.” I sit back, letting out a long breath.
“I assume she knows about your … connection?” Dr. Stone gives me a pointed look.
I nod. “Despite how fucked up this whole situation is, there’s something about her that—” The words catch in my throat, but I force them out. “She challenges me. Sees through my bullshit. Even now, when she’s pissed as hell about this arrangement, she stands her ground. Doesn’t back down.”
Heat spreads through my chest as I think about Eve in my kitchen this morning, the way she looked at me cooking with Leo. For a moment, something soft had crossed her face, replacing her usual wariness.
“I know it’s fast. But when I see her with Leo—her nephew—how fiercely she protects him, how she’s stepped up to raise him—” I swallow hard. “It feels right. Like maybe this clusterfuck of a situation could actually lead to something real. Something good.”
Dr. Stone’s pen pauses on her notepad. “You sound hopeful.”
“I am.” The admission surprises me. “For the first time in a long while, I actually am.”
“That’s good, Zeke. Real good. What are your other reservations?”
I take a deep breath. “Her last marriage didn’t turn out so well.”
“Let’s talk about that.” Dr. Stone suggests, her pen hovering over her notepad. “She’s divorced?”
The leather creaks under my grip. “Yeah. Ex-husband was a piece of shit. Verbally abusive.” My jaw clenches. “Eventually hit her. That’s when she finally left.”
“That concerns you?”
“Of course it fucking concerns me.” The words come out harsher than intended. “She deserves better than that. Better than some asshole who made her feel worthless because she couldn’t—” I stop, remembering it’s not my place to share Eve’s private struggles.
Dr. Stone watches me carefully. “You seem very protective of her.”
“She’s been through enough.” I stand up, unable to sit still any longer.
The morning sun catches the gray in my reflection as I pace past her window.
“Her ex-husband, losing her sister, having to step up for Leo ...” I turn back to face Dr. Stone.
“And now this marriage that will undoubtedly save her life.”
“You feel guilty about that?”
“I feel—” The words stick in my throat again.
I force them out. “I feel like I’m adding to her trauma.
Another man forcing her hand.” My fist connects with the wall before I can stop myself.
Not hard enough to damage it, but enough to feel the sting.
“Christ, I’d rather die than become another source of pain in her life. ”
“What do you want to be for her, Zeke?”
I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the city below. “I want to be the man she deserves. Someone who protects her without suffocating her. Someone who,” my voice drops, “someone who helps her heal instead of adding to her scars.”
Dr. Stone’s office falls silent. I turn away from the glass, unable to face my own reflection anymore.
“Have you told Eve any of this?” Dr. Stone’s voice is gentle, probing.
“No.” The word comes out rough. “How the fuck do I even start that conversation? ‘Hey, sorry I ghosted you last year, but I actually care about you and want this marriage to work?’” I bark out a harsh laugh. “She’ll think I’m full of shit.”
“Why?”
I sink back into the leather chair, the familiar creak grounding me.
“Because I am full of shit. One minute I’m walking away from her without a word, the next I’m forcing her into marriage to save her life.
” My hands clench into fists. “And now I’m sitting here talking about wanting to help her heal? Christ.”
“You’ve grown since then, Zeke. People change.”
“Do they?” I meet her steady gaze. “Or do we just get better at lying to ourselves?”
“What makes you say that?”
The question hits a nerve. I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
“This morning, watching her with Leo. For a moment, everything felt right. Like we could be a real family.” My throat tightens.
“But that’s bullshit, isn’t it? She’s only there because she has to be.
Because I fucked up and now she’s paying the price. ”
“And yet, you said she seemed accepting of the situation when Leo mentioned the marriage.”
“Yeah.” I admit. “But acceptance isn’t the same as wanting it.”