Chapter 14 #2
She pulled her phone back out and stared at the screen like it had personally offended her. “Jake’s not answering.” Her voice cracked just enough to betray how scared she was.
“Oh.”
“I’ve been calling. Nothing.” I saw genuine worry in her eyes. “I think he’s avoiding me.”
“Did something happen? Did you guys fight?”
“That’s the thing. We didn’t. Everything was normal, or I thought it was. He mentioned needing space last night.”
“Space from what?”
“I don’t know! He won’t tell me because he won’t talk to me.” She rubbed her face with both hands. “I don’t know what to do. Do I keep trying to reach him? Do I give him whatever space he’s asking for and hope he figures out his stuff? Do I show up at his apartment and make him talk?”
She looked at me hopefully. “What would you do?” she asked, like I held the secret manual to relationships.
I almost laughed. “Delia, I’m literally the worst person to ask for relationship advice. Romance hasn’t exactly been on my radar.”
“But you’re so good at reading people and knowing what they need.”
“That’s my job with Lily. That’s different. Adult relationships are a whole other mess I’m not qualified to navigate.” I squeezed her arm. “I hope it works out soon for you.”
The session ended later than usual because Lily kept wanting to practice one more turn, one more position. By the time Delia packed up her speaker and said goodbye, the penthouse had fallen into that soft, evening stillness it only seemed to have when Hector wasn’t pacing through it.
I gathered my things while Lily showed Mrs. Pearson her new moves in the hallway, her voice bright with excitement. Watching her like this, so alive and present, made something warm bloom in my chest.
My bag was packed, my jacket on, and I was heading toward the elevator when I heard his voice.
“Sarah.” His voice carried something I couldn’t name—not sharp, not cold, just… deliberate.
I turned to find Hector standing near his office door.
He looked different somehow, or maybe it was just the evening light coming through the windows.
Less formal than usual. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it one time too many—the closest I’d ever seen him to disheveled.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
“Sure. What’s up?”
He gestured toward his office. “In here, if you don’t mind.” His tone was careful, almost… tentative.
That made my pulse pick up slightly. In six months of working here, I’d only been in his office a handful of times, and most of those had been for arguments. This felt different though. His expression was open, almost uncertain, and that wasn’t something I’d rarely seen on him.
I followed him down the hallway, and he held the office door open for me. The space was exactly as I remembered it from the last time I’d been here, all dark wood and leather furniture, bookshelves lined with cookbooks and business volumes.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs across from his desk.
I sat while he moved behind his desk, but instead of sitting in his chair, he leaned against the edge of it.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, then stopped. His eyes flickered on mine. He looked… awkward? Hector Valdez didn’t do awkward.
Nerves. Hector Valdez was nervous.
“About?” I prompted when the silence stretched too long.
“About what you said. About Lily and dancing. About letting her have that connection to her mother.” Something in his expression made it hard to breathe properly. “You were right. About all of it.”
I waited, not wanting to interrupt whatever he was working up to. The office felt smaller suddenly, or maybe that was just my awareness of how close we were sitting. How the evening light caught in his dark eyes and made them look less guarded than usual.
“I’m going to let her dance,” he said at last—like the words cost him something to say.
The words took a moment to process. When they did, when I understood what he was actually saying, what this meant for him and for Lily, my entire chest went warm.
“Hector. That’s incredible. That’s such a huge step.”
“It’s terrifying,” he corrected, but something that might have been a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “But watching her today, seeing how happy she was. I realized I’ve been so focused on protecting her from pain that I forgot she needs joy more than she needs safety.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I said—and for once, the words didn’t feel too big or too intimate. They felt true.
Something in his expression softened.
Then I was moving, standing up without deciding to, crossing the small space between us before my brain could catch up. Before I could stop myself, I crossed the space and wrapped my arms around him—instinct, joy, relief all tangled together. Pure happiness for what this meant for both of them.
He went completely still.
For half a second, maybe less, I felt how solid he was, how warm. Registered the clean scent of his cologne and the way my head fit perfectly against his shoulder. Then reality crashed back in.
Oh god. What was I doing?
I pulled back quickly, my face burning hot enough to probably be visible from space. “Sorry. That was—God, that was inappropriate. I just… I’m really happy for you. For both of you.”
I took a step back, then another, putting distance between us like that would somehow undo what I’d just done. “I should go. It’s late and you probably have work and I’m—yeah. I’ll see you at Lily’s next session.”
I was already moving toward the door, grabbing for the handle.
“Sarah—”
“Really, I should go. Lily was great today, by the way. Okay, bye!”
I was out the door and down the hallway before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say, walking fast enough that I was practically running. Inside my head, every curse word I’d ever learned was playing on repeat.
Professional boundaries, Sarah. Those exist for a reason. You can’t just go around hugging emotionally repressed billionaires like it’s a normal Tuesday. You can’t just hug your boss because you’re happy about a parenting decision. That’s not how employment works.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, jabbing the button for the lobby hard.
And I was absolutely, definitely, completely not thinking about how solid he’d felt when I’d hugged him. Not registering the warmth of his body or the way his cologne had smelled up close.
Nope. Not thinking about any of that. Not the warmth, not the scent, not the way he’d gone still like he didn’t know what to do with being held.
Not even a little bit.
The elevator couldn’t move fast enough—and neither could I, apparently, when it came to running from my own feelings.