Chapter 15
ALEX
“Don’t forget the tea!” Elijah calls out, wheeling his suitcase toward the elevator. “They don’t sell that brand in Puerto Rico.”
“Already packed,” I reassure him, stepping out of the kitchen. My voice is steady, but my chest tightens. “I’m going to miss you.”
“It’s just two days. One, if you don’t count today.
We’ll be together before you know it.” He pulls me into a hug, and I let myself sink into it for a second longer than I mean to.
When I try to pull away, he catches my hand, holding on gently.
“If Gabriel were here,” he murmurs, “he would have stayed with you. You know that, right?”
I stop. The warmth of his touch fades the second those words land.
“Really, Elijah?” I drop his hand. “Like I want to be sexually harassed by your ex-husband while you soak up the sun in Puerto Rico?”
He laughs—light, amused. “Gabriel doesn’t sexually harass anybody,” he says, smoothing his hands down my arms. “And believe it or not, he actually cares about you.”
“Yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it.”
Heat rises to my face as irritation twists through my stomach. I know Elijah means well. I know Gabriel means… something. But good intentions don’t mean much when they come with mixed signals and strange silences.
“I have to go,” Elijah says, glancing down at his watch. “Steven’s waiting downstairs with the car. I’ll call you when I land.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I try to smile, but it feels weak. “And let me know when you hear from Gabriel. I hope his mother’s feeling better.”
“Pretty sure she is. They should have released her from the hospital by now, so I imagine Gabriel’s at home helping out. I’ll let him know you were asking about her.”
He leans in for a kiss before stepping onto the elevator. “See you soon, love.”
I refill my coffee and shuffle back into the bedroom, needing to move. The photo shoot starts at eleven, and I’ve been dragging all morning.
I throw on a pair of comfortable slacks and a light-blue button-up—easy, professional. Hurrying, I grab my dark-brown loafers from the bottom shelf of the armoire, slip them on, and reach for my wallet. I shove it into my front pocket.
It doesn’t fit.
Of course. Last-minute chaos strikes again.
Hastily, I slide out a few cards I won’t be needing and drop them on top of the armoire. One of them goes flying halfway across the room when I slam the doors shut. Rolling my eyes, I shove the wallet back into my pocket and then take five extra steps in the opposite direction to pick up—
“Fuuuuck…” Noah’s keycard. How could I have forgotten?
A jolt of guilt stabs through my chest, but there’s no time to sit with it. I glance up at the clock. I’m officially late. With no time to spare, I pocket the card and haul my ass out the door.
“Have a good night, guys!” I grab my bag and wave to the crew as they start packing up their gear.
The designer hollers back. “See you, Alex. Pleasure working with you.”
The shoot turned out to be easy enough—long, but smooth.
Everyone was friendly, no egos, no drama.
Elijah called to let me know he landed safely and was on his way to the hotel, which isn’t too far from his parents’ house in Aguadilla.
I wouldn’t have minded staying with them, but Elijah figured we’d be more comfortable in a room nearby.
He knows better than I do, so I trust his call.
“Goodnight, Alex,” someone else calls out, and I wave over my shoulder as I head out.
The drive back to the penthouse is torture.
Traffic crawls, brake lights flashing in a frenzy, like some sort of haphazard Morse code.
Horns blare from every direction, layering over each other in a relentless, nerve-grating symphony.
My anxiety spikes with every inch we move forward.
I’m barely holding it together. I’m like a ticking bomb ready to explode.
Jittery as hell. And Noah’s keycard pressing against my thigh with every shift in the seat feels like a matchbook ready to ignite.
I whip out my phone as the car rolls up to the curb, scrolling through my contacts. My thumb hovers over Noah’s name. Just as I’m about to press it, my mind decides to screw with me.
Isn’t it strange to be calling him? Out of the blue? You’re returning a keycard, not striking up conversation. And what if Gabriel sees your name in Noah’s recent calls? How are you going to explain that? Huh?
Huhhh?
I swipe out of my contacts and close the app, pulling up another app instead—then shutting that too. I grab my jacket and climb out of the car. Fine. I’ll show up unannounced, hand over the key, and be on my way. Simple. Clean. Just a transaction.
I’m definitely overthinking this. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. I’m just returning something that doesn’t belong to me—
Like the fucking key to Gabriel’s boyfriend’s apartment!
Fidgeting with the collar of my shirt, I stagger off the elevator and onto Noah’s floor, muttering a pep talk under my breath as I make my way down the hallway—literally talking to myself like an idiot. Rambling like a complete mess.
Good thing no one’s around to witness me unraveling, losing my goddamn mind. I actually feel sick to my stomach.
When I reach his apartment, I rap my knuckles lightly against the door and wait.
No answer.
I knock again… harder this time. I just want to get this transaction over with. There’s a doorbell, too, so I press it.
Another knock.
Another ring.
Jesus Alex, just slip the card under the door.
Or… let yourself in. You have the key, after all.
Right. I do.
But that would be stupid, wouldn’t it? Then again, he gave me the key for a reason… though I highly doubt breaking and entering was what he had in mind.
Ugh. Here I go. Overthinking. Again.
I’ll open the door, leave it on the counter where he’ll see it, and then leave.
Makes perfect sense.
It makes absolutely no sense. But I’m doing it anyway.
Decision made, I swipe the card through the slot and step into Noah’s apartment.
An overhead light pops on, and I freeze—like a deer caught in headlights.
I square my shoulders, waiting for the shrill of an alarm… or the sudden appearance of the Secret Service rounding the corner to take me down. But, when nothing happens—no alarm, no ambush—I blow out a breath and finally take in my surroundings.
A round glass table stands front and center in the foyer, displaying a gorgeous crystal vase. At least six dozen long-stemmed red roses fan out from the vase’s wide mouth, yawning for attention. It’s a striking centerpiece, and probably the largest display of flowers I’ve ever seen.
I take a moment to admire the beautiful arrangement, gently rolling a soft petal between my thumb and forefinger, breathing in the mix of fruity, floral, and spicy scents.
The aroma takes me back to the day I purchased roses for Elijah.
That was the night Noah saw me break down, frozen and shell-shocked as I watched Elijah and Gabriel embrace.
I sigh, biting the inside of my cheek to stop that memory from traveling any further into my psyche.
There’s a card leaning against the base of the vase, angled just so. The handwriting is attractive, neatly penned. I lean closer to read it.
Noah, my beautiful boy.
I am truly sorry.
~Gabriel.
What the—
I pick it up and flip it over, looking for… something. Anything. But aside from the floral company’s name stamped across the top, there’s nothing.
What is he apologizing for?
The last I knew, they were head over heels for each other. Plus, Elijah made it crystal clear that Gabriel would never do anything to hurt Noah.
Yet… he did.
I scratch the top of my head, a sick feeling starting to churn through my gut. My breath hitches. I start counting to eleven—short, shaky inhales, trying to ground myself, as a storm of dark scenarios begins crashing into my mind.
This is ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m entertaining this bullshit. It’s none of my business.
But when I reach the number nine, I feel no better than I did at one.
Fed up, I abandon my counting and slam my fist down onto the table. Water sloshes over the edges of the vase, splattering onto the glass.
Logic says I should leave the key right there—on the table—and walk out. But at the moment, I lack any and all logical reasoning.
As I move further into Noah’s apartment, my ears perk up at the faint sound of music drifting from down the hall. Soft. Sultry. Seductive.
The track fades into another—a love song this time. Slow and dreamy.
Something shifts in the air. My pulse quickens.
Is Noah home?
Is he with someone?
Someone… other than Gabriel?
Because Gabriel is in Spain.
Which reminds me… I shouldn’t be here either.
But that doesn’t stop me.
I speed walk down the hallway, driven by the sudden, crashing need to know who Noah is with. Jealousy coils tight in my chest, pushing out every other thought until there’s nothing left but the burning need to see for myself.
The music grows louder with every step, each note tightening the knot in my stomach. By the time I reach the door, I’m gripping the keycard so hard it cuts into my palm.
I take one final, shaky breath, trying to hold on to whatever calm I have left… which isn’t much. My heart pounds as I press down on the door handle and lean into the door, bracing myself for what I’m certain I’m about to see.
But what’s waiting on the other side isn’t at all what I expected. In fact, nothing could have prepared me for what I was looking at.