Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
PRESTON
The Shanghai skyline glitters beyond the tinted windows of the limousine as we return from yet another lavish business dinner. Vivian sits beside me, her perfume hanging heavy in the air between us. I loosen my tie, feeling suffocated by more than just the formal attire.
“That went well, don’t you think?” Vivian’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Mr. Zhang seemed particularly impressed.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Your presence certainly helped smooth things over. Thank you for coming, Vivian.”
She beams at me, and I’m struck by a pang of... something. Not regret, exactly, but a strange sense of disconnect. This woman beside me, once so familiar, now feels like a stranger wearing the face of someone I used to know.
As we arrive at our hotel, I escort Vivian to her suite, my mind already racing ahead to tomorrow’s meetings. But as we reach her door, she turns to me, her eyes shining with an emotion I’m not prepared for.
“Preston,” she says softly, her hand coming to rest on my chest. “This trip has been... enlightening. Don’t you think we make a good team?”
Before I can react, she leans in, her lips aiming for mine. I step back, gently but firmly pushing her hand away.
“Vivian, no. This isn’t... We’re not...”
She blinks, confusion and hurt flashing across her face. “But you’ve seemed so happy, Preston. In the meetings, at the dinners... I haven’t seen you smile like that in years. I thought... I thought it was because of us, because we were together again.”
Her words make me realize how easily our interactions could have been misinterpreted. I’ve been riding the high of successful negotiations, of deals falling into place. But Vivian saw what she wanted to see - a rekindling of our relationship.
“I’ve been happy because the project is going well,” I say gently. “The smiles, the laughter—that was business, not us. I thought you knew that.”
As her brows furrow, a sad understanding dawns in her eyes. “I see it now. When we’re alone, you’re different. Distant. I just didn’t want to see it before.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, feeling genuinely remorseful for the unintentional hurt I’ve caused.
Vivian takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “You know, I was ready to call Love Beach home. I thought that’s what you wanted, what would make you happy.”
Her words catch me off guard. “You don’t have to call a place home just to make someone else happy. That’s not how it works.”
“No?” she asks, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
I shake my head, choosing my words carefully. “Home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling. It’s where you feel most yourself, most at peace. You can’t force that feeling, and you shouldn’t try to, not for anyone else’s sake.”
Vivian sighs. “I just thought... I thought it was the right thing to say. The thing that would bring us back together.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We were good together, weren’t we?” she says after a few moments of silence. “In business, in social circles. We made sense on paper. The perfect power couple.”
I nod slowly, remembering how effortlessly we used to navigate the high-stakes world of business and society together. In fact, we still do.
“But there was always something missing,” Vivian continues, a sad smile playing on her lips. “I was too caught up in the idea of us, in what we represented, to see it at the time. But now... now I realize that being a ‘power couple’ isn’t a guarantee of happiness or longevity.”
She pauses, and I can see the moment realization dawns in her eyes. “It’s her, isn’t it? That shop owner you kept looking for that day at the square. You were… panicked. The first time I ever saw you so… lost.”
Words fail me as she studies me. I feel exposed, as if Vivian has peered directly into my heart and laid bare feelings I’ve barely acknowledged to myself.
“I think you’ve had feelings for her for years. It’s why you always insisted on buying something from her shop. Those mosaic pieces, the crystals,” Vivian says softly. “Maybe you didn’t even realize it yourself.”
“I... It’s complicated,” I manage to say.
“Does she know?” Vivian asks gently.
I think of unanswered calls, of blocked numbers, of the distance that’s grown between Crystal and me since that last night together. “I don’t think she wants to,” I admit, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Vivian reaches out, squeezing my arm in a gesture of unexpected kindness. “Her loss,” she says softly. Then, with a sad smile, “You know, Preston, I think this is the most honest conversation we’ve had in years.”
I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. “Maybe we needed this. Closure, I mean.”
She nods, a wistful look in her eyes. “Maybe we did. For what it’s worth, I hope it works out with Crystal. You deserve to be happy. Really happy, not just business-deal happy.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a genuine warmth towards her. “I hope you find your real home too, wherever or whatever that might be.”
She smiles, a real smile this time. “Goodnight, Preston. And good luck.”
As her door closes, I’m left alone in the quiet hallway, the weight of my realizations pressing down on me. Vivian’s words echo in my mind—“It’s her, isn’t it?”
And for the first time, I allow myself to acknowledge the truth.
Yes. Yes, it is. It’s always been her.
I just didn’t know it.
I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over Crystal’s number. But what’s the point? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to hear from me. With a sigh, I toss the phone aside and move to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the Shanghai night.
I’ve spent the past week throwing myself into work, hoping to drown out the ache of Crystal’s absence with contracts and negotiations. But standing here, thousands of miles from Love Beach, I’m forced to confront the truth I’ve been avoiding.
I’m in love with Crystal Francia.
The realization should be liberating, but instead, it feels like a cruel joke. I’ve finally found someone who sees me for who I am, who challenges me and excites me in equal measure, and she wants nothing to do with me.
I rest my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes. How did I let things get so messed up? The memory of our last night together plays in my mind - the softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, we could have something real.
But then morning came, and with it, my work, specifically meetings with one of the developers and other investors. All I could do was leave her a rose, stolen from her landlady’s courtyard garden (thanks to Javi who climbed over the damn fence and cut it for me).
But since then, Crystal has carefully constructed a wall around her heart, blocking my number and not answering any of my calls, even the ones from my bodyguards’ phones.
Hell, I feel like a stalker, unable to take no for an answer.
My phone buzzes with a message from Javi - another update on the Seaside Square situation. I should read it, should care about the progress of the project that started all of this. But in this moment, all I can think about is the little mosaic shop and the woman who runs it.
As I turn away from the window, my hand instinctively reaches into my pocket, fingers closing around a familiar shape. I pull out the small mosaic piece I’ve carried with me on every trip for years now, a little slice of Love Beach I can hold in the palm of my hand.
It’s no larger than a poker chip, but the detail packed into its circular frame never fails to amaze me. Tiny tiles in shades of gold, orange, and deep purple are arranged in a swirling pattern, capturing the essence of a Love Beach sunset. The way the colors blend and flow reminds me of the way the sky seems to melt into the ocean on those perfect evenings when the whole world seems to hold its breath in awe.
I remember the day I bought this piece from Crystal’s shop. She’d just finished it, and her eyes lit up as she described how she’d been inspired by a particularly stunning sunset the week before. I wanted to capture that moment , she’d said, her voice full of passion. That feeling when you look at the sky and can’t quite believe something so beautiful can exist in the real world.
Little did she know, I was experiencing that exact feeling as I watched her talk.
I run my thumb over the smooth surface of the mosaic, feeling the almost imperceptible ridges where the tiles meet. It’s become something of a lucky charm for me over the years. Whenever a negotiation gets tough or a deal seems on the verge of falling through, I find myself reaching for this little piece of home.
But it’s more than just a reminder of Love Beach. It’s a reminder of Crystal—her artistry, her passion, the way she sees beauty in the world and manages to translate it into something tangible. Something you can hold onto even when you’re halfway around the world.
As I stare at the swirling colors, I’m struck by how much this tiny mosaic represents. It’s a piece of art, yes, but it’s also a piece of Crystal’s soul. And somehow, without me even realizing it, it’s become a piece of my heart too.
I close my fist around the mosaic, feeling its edges press into my palm. Isn’t it time I stopped running and faced the truth?
With a sudden clarity, I know what I have to do. This trip, these negotiations—they’re important, yes. But not as important as what I’m in danger of losing if I don’t act soon.
I reach for my phone, dialing Javi’s number.
“Javi, I need you to do something for me,” I say the moment he picks up, my mind already racing ahead. “I’m flying back home after my meeting tomorrow.”
There’s a pause, then I hear the smile in Javi’s voice. “It’ll be nice to have you back.”
As I hang up, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. I don’t know if Crystal will listen to me, if she’ll give us a chance. But I know I have to try. Because a life without her, no matter how successful or prestigious, feels empty.
And maybe I wasn’t aware of it then. but I am now.
Every single second of it.