Chapter 35
Penelope
Xander’s penthouse had three balconies that you could walk out onto.
The one off Xander’s bedroom was the only one I hadn’t seen, usually because I tried not to get too wrapped up in him in the
morning since that tended to mean I’d run late for work. This morning it meant that we missed Sunday brunch at Sloan’s.
After I got dressed, I found myself there. Large glass panes extended up as protection to anyone out there on a windy day,
but unlike the other balconies, at the edges they seemed to taper inward. The additional glass was tinted soft green.
The cool wind whipped by, and my attention was drawn to a few planters along the wall. The largest terracotta one in the center
was filled with poppies.
My heart skipped a beat.
My poppies.
I stared at them for a moment before running my fingers over a few petals, needing to feel them to prove to myself they were
actually there.
Poppy.
A swirl of emotion began to swell in my chest, sending a delightful tremor through my body.
I faintly heard the sound of the glass door opening and closing.
“You usually disappear by now.” Xander walked past me, handing me a mug on his way to the glass parapet.
I smiled, the flutter in my chest became a whirlwind.
“Are these mine?” The poppies were in a same planter, with an identical one next to it, also thriving. “I gave them to Maya.”
He turned, glanced at the plant, then looked back out onto the city. “Yeah. I said caretaker, not undertaker.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” I ran my fingers around the satin petals.
“I saw them in her office,” he explained. “She forgot to water them and thought coffee might help.”
I grimaced. “Oh. Well, thank you for caring for them in my stead. I promise I won’t kill them.”
“You say that like you’re under the illusion that I’m giving them back,” he scoffed lightheartedly.
I couldn’t explain the feeling. The best comparison was it felt like I’d been wearing a corset for years and it finally loosened.
Maybe it was the brisk air or maybe I was hallucinating at such a high altitude, but I was practically giddy looking at them.
Like finding something I’d lost, only to realize how much I missed it.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had them?” I asked. The wind whistled by me, and I opened my mouth to ask again, but stopped as
I turned and saw the look on his face become more somber.
Whatever crossed his mind in that moment swept the excitement away in the wind.
“You’d try to take them back,” he pointed out casually, walking back to the door even though he’d just come out here.
“Well, they are mine.”
“No, now they’re mine.” He shook his head and he closed the space between us. He took my chin in his hand and gently pressed
a kiss against my lips. “And I don’t want to let my poppies go.”
His eyes bored into mine, a kaleidoscope of sincerity and maybe the slightest hint of fear keeping him from saying exactly what he meant.
My heart skittered because when he looked at me like that, it made me believe that his carefully guarded heart was mine.
A rush of emotion, akin to what I felt looking at that painting, crashed over me. A blissful anxiety mixed with excitement—this
wasn’t me figuring out what I wanted anymore. It wasn’t simply the two of us enjoying our sexual chemistry.
It was more.
It was so much more.
“Don’t make plans for later. We’re going to be busy ,” he whispered.
A shiver rolled up my spine. “I’m going to the Augustus with the girls. They’ll be here soon.”
He groaned and pressed another short kiss on my lips before going inside.
With everything going so well, a part of me was waiting for the reality to set in. For Silas to make good on his threat, because
I was sure what he’d done so far wasn’t it. Or for something to yank away the cloud I felt like I was floating on.
My gaze lingered on the poppies, feeling both heavy and weightless at the same time.
***
For a man with an infallible memory, Xander had a surprising number of framed photographs and they adorned almost every wall
of his home. All along clean lines with very simple, symmetrical framing.
“It was my choose-your-player party.” CeCe’s voice pulled me from my thoughts as I looked at one of the many pictures.
The four of us girls—Selena, Sloan, CeCe, and I—were meeting here and going to the Augustus Club together. Selena was warming up to the idea of spending some time there and Xander suggested she come along to the arts section. It was nice since Sloan—at any moment she and I were alone—was practically bursting with glee and withheld questions about the state of my relationship. She knew Xander and me well enough to pick up that we’d moved past acting the part.
She was respecting our privacy, and it was clearly difficult for her to hide her excitement as Xander and I found our footing.
Which was beginning to feel strong and permanent.
“Hmmm?” I looked over at CeCe and Sloan as they walked over. I found myself stopping at different photographs every day, some
of them had an obvious backstory. Others made me curious.
“We all went as different Mortal Combat characters. I was Kitana. Sloan was Mileena,” CeCe explained.
I looked over the photograph again. The five of them, Sloan, Tristan, CeCe, Xander, and Rohan in one picture. Each a different
Mortal Combat character.
“Are those real swords?” I asked, noticing Sloan’s costume came with two long daggers that were swordlike, with ornate handles.
“Japanese steel,” Sloan confirmed with a wide smile.
My eyes widened. I looked at CeCe for confirmation and she nodded as though validating something mundane.
“Marcus took them from her within five minutes of getting there. Concern for fratricide,” CeCe added.
“I wasn’t going to hurt anyone,” Sloan assured offhandedly.
I laughed and looked at her. “Was it that bad between you and Henry?”
“Things weren’t great.” She shrugged. The last few years, from what I’d witnessed, their relationship was on the mend. Lately,
it was hard to tell there was ever any animosity between the siblings. “The choose-your-player party was a few months after
the official succession plans for Amari Global were announced. I wasn’t handling it well.”
“Yikes,” I said to myself.
“Family drama is evergreen if you let it be.” Her eyes scanned over the next picture, the one of her, Xander, Henry, and Marcus.
All at her law-school graduation. It was the focal point on the wall; it caught your eye immediately when walking in. “The
constant barrage of shots at each other wasn’t sustainable. It was either give peace a real chance—be around each other and
make amends—or live with a grudge forever. Peace is nice.”
That sentiment settled in my chest.
I’d found peace here. But it was at the expense of my relationship with Arabella. Visiting Singapore again, after years, stirred
up everything I’d missed. Liv, Bella, and a home I ignored because I was trying to protect myself from how I felt there.
“Is that why you considered staying in London?” I asked. After our assignment in London, Sloan entertained an offer to stay
there despite Manhattan being her home.
She shrugged. “It was always the easy option to remove myself from it. But Henry is here and if I wanted to fix things, I
needed to be here . He was trying, so I had to try, too.”
A dull ache sharpened: Sloan was right.
The sound of Selena’s telltale heels entering the entryway pulled us from the conversation.
“Sorry, I’m late. Blame Henry,” she called.
CeCe laughed and turned to walk back to the entryway. Sloan and I followed a few steps behind.
The heavy truth of what I wanted had been weighing on me more since returning from Singapore. I glanced around at all the
photographs on the walls. “Why all the pictures?”
Sloan’s smile was gloomy. “I think he likes to have the good memories handy.”