Chapter 46
Xander
The familiar feeling of Penelope’s short, perfectly rounded nails running along my scalp sent tiny sparks down my neck, pulling
me awake the next morning. My heart skipped. A smile formed on my face.
Then, everything we talked about the night before flooded me.
“Poppy.” My eyes blinked open and I sat up quickly.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you earlier,” she whispered, sitting on the side of the bed. I glanced at the clock on the wall;
it was just before nine. “I know you didn’t sleep much last night.”
The curtains were still drawn but the light peered in along the sides. She had to have been up early. We must have slept in
shifts because she’d fallen asleep in my arms and I watched her for hours. I was unable to keep the anxiety of everything
to come from blaring in my mind, keeping me awake. I must have fallen asleep right before dawn.
“Wait,” I pleaded, still groggy. I ran my hand down the side of my face and started getting out of bed when she stopped me
by laying her hands on either shoulder.
The strength in her resolve wavered for a second.
“We talked about this last night,” she reminded me. “I’m head ing out. I talked to the firm. I’m working remotely the next few weeks while things get sorted.”
Last night, after we came inside, we lay in bed and we talked a little more. Not about us, but about the path moving forward.
What she planned to do; she needed to talk to Arabella. Then Silas and Maddox. While the idea of her and her ex drove me a
little insane, I trusted Penelope with everything. My heart, my future, all of it.
Her assistant booked a flight for this morning, but she refused to take the jet because it was impractical for just her. She
wanted to handle the Silas situation as soon as possible and finally put it behind her. So she could move forward.
She must have packed quietly while I was sleeping. At least I didn’t have to watch it happen.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” she admitted softly. My chest constricted, pushing the air from my lungs. “For now,” she added
quickly.
Her eyes drifted to my nightstand, mine followed. My heart dropped into my stomach when I saw the familiar black velvet box.
“Penelope.” Panic bled into my voice. The knee-jerk reaction to hold on tighter when I felt her slipping away. We weren’t
ending it.
“I’m wearing my wedding ring and I am still very much your wife ,” she assured me, not that it helped. Her thumbs gently swiped back and forth along my jaw, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
“I never actually tried to take off the ring after that first week in the Hamptons. This morning was the first time I tried.
You were right, it slipped off when I stopped clawing at it.” A tiny smile moved up her lips. “I just want you to know that
if that box doesn’t come with you when you come visit in a week, I understand. Moving forward, this arrangement can look however
you’d like it to.”
I opened my mouth to tell her all the things I wanted to: I didn’t need to think about it, that she was my everything.
But Penelope needed to know that if she asked, I’d let her go. And I had to learn to stop holding on too tight.
“Okay,” I whispered, feeling completely powerless.
“Remember what you promised me.” She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine. “I deserve a man that’s by my side out of
love, not fear.”
I nodded.
She wasn’t just asking for what she wanted, she was demanding it. And even though it was killing me, I was so fucking proud
of her.
“I’m going to spend the week at Olivia’s, figure this out with Arabella. But I’ll call you when I land.”
She stood and I fought every urge to get up and stop her. Beg her, plead with her to stay. Instead, I tried to deal with everything
I was feeling. The sheer unstoppable pain of watching while the person I loved more than anything walked out hit me all at
once.
The anxiety, the fear, all of it.
***
I sat at my kitchen island, staring at the ring, going over everything Penelope said on loop.
“I need to know that you’re doing this because you love me. Not because you’re afraid of losing me.”
She was right—a lot of my actions were born from fear.
It wasn’t just not telling her about Hightower. I was so terrified that I’d get used to her and I’d be devastated if she were
gone, that I told myself it was better to never know how good it would feel to be with her. Then, when we first crossed the
line in Singapore, I could have told her I wanted so much more, but I didn’t. I took whatever she was willing to give out
of fear she would pull away if I asked for more.
It wasn’t fair to me either.
The sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts.
“Pen called me,” Sloan explained into the silence without being asked. She took a seat next to me. “Told me she’s going to
Singapore and wanted to give you some time to figure some things out, so I thought I’d check in.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, remembering everything else that happened yesterday. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before we talked about
what happened with Penelope. There was still the matter of what Silas kicked up. “With everything that happened?”
“Liana Blackwell, on behalf of the FTC, is thankful for my cooperation even though I provided no additional insight and Senator
Alders corroborated my story that his Senate office received a private couriered—anonymous—packet of documents. It’s not unheard
of that an employee might be fearful of retribution from a giant like Hightower,” she explained.
“And the firm?”
“I told them the truth. I was questioned; I complied. Nothing further. It’s over now. Thanks to Fitzgerald, it’s going to
stay over.”
“I’m sorry I put you in that position,” I mumbled.
“Don’t be,” Sloan countered sternly, almost threateningly. The only time Sloan was truly upset with me was when I didn’t ask for help. “It may be murky ethics, but I have the moral high ground, the Amari last name, and powerful friends. I always
knew I’d be just fine.”
Sloan loved to say that laws were only ethical to the people they served, and she worked for a lot of morally bankrupt people.
Ethics was in the eye of the beholder. With crimes ranging from tax evasion to criminal negligence resulting in the deaths
of hundreds over the last decade—nobody was mourning the Hightowers.
“My morally gray best friend,” I said with a chuckle, the first splinter of laughter since Penelope left.
“Everyone needs one.” She grinned proudly. “And what about Pen? She’s all set to deal with Silas?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what Penelope planned to do with the information I’d given her, but she wanted to talk to Arabella first.
After a few minutes of silence, I began to tell Sloan what Penelope and I had talked about, mostly to hear it out loud instead
of in my head over and over. A little because I knew Sloan would be trusted counsel.
She sat quietly and did not interrupt even once as I went through it all.
“Are you okay?” she asked minutes after I finished, and she took it all in.
No. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. But I was managing at least. Trying to do what Penelope asked.
“I’m holding on too tight,” I admitted.
“Unfortunately, that seems to be an Amari-Sutton quirk. The trauma bonds that bind,” she said quietly, like it was to herself.
The four of us did it—got overly involved—because we wanted to keep things from coming undone. It was hard to see when it
felt so reflexive. “We all sort of have a blind spot to it.”
“I love her. Of course I’d be scared to lose her.” I stared at the ring; it sparkled in the morning light.
“Imagine being Pen. Maddox only wanted to be with her because he was scared that his parents wouldn’t give him the power he
wanted.”
My eyes snapped up to Sloan. My molars ground together for a moment. Maddox and I were nothing alike. “I love her.”
Maddox never did. Not like I do.
“I know,” Sloan defended gently, putting a stabilizing hand on my shoulder. “But now, to be faced with a man who might be making a knee-jerk decision because he’s scared of something else—as valid as the fear of losing her is, Xan—if it were me, I might won der what happens when you’re not scared anymore. Will you still want to be in Singapore? Will you still want all the things you say you want now?”
I huffed, frustrated. She was right. “So, what do I do?”
I was trying to give Penelope what she wanted. But how did I know I wasn’t scared to lose her more than anything else? Because
right now I was fucking terrified.
With a few extended beats of silence, I looked at Sloan, who pursed her lips in thought.
“Well, how do you face a fear?” Sloan asked but didn’t wait for me to answer. “Head-on, right? Scared of flying, travel around
the world. Scared of water, jump into the deep end.”
My brows rose. “Remind me to tell Marcus that he should be the one to teach my nieces and nephews to swim.”
“Humor to avoid a difficult conversation. Classic Xan.” She rolled her shoulders back, showing uncharacteristic patience.
“Look around. You’re living your fear. She’s gone. She may not ever come back. She could live there, you’d be here, she meets
someo—”
Pain sliced through my chest.
“Sloan!” I snapped, closing my eyes as if that might help my mind to not picture all of that. What the hell was her point
in reminding me of the fact that Penelope was gone?
“My point is, you’re dealing with it.” She gave me a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder. “Much better than you have in the
past. I’ve seen you fall apart, Xan.”
“I know.” I looked down at the countertop. I knew how much she’d done to keep me together over the years.
Sloan yanked my chin to look at her. “And here you are. In one piece, putting one foot in front of the other. Proof that if
your worst fear comes to fruition, you’ll be okay.”
“Yeah...”
“If all of that did happen. If you two end it. And one day she came back and asked you to put yourself through it again. Would you?”
Months ago, I was terrified at the thought of losing her because I knew that pain would be unbearable—sitting here without
her proved it was—so I held on tighter to avoid that hurt. But feeling it now made me even more sure that I’d deal with it
a thousand more times if it meant making her happy. “Yes.”
“Why?” she asked quickly.
“Because I love her.” I answered just as fast, realizing exactly where this questioning was supposed to lead me. I dropped
my head with a short, exhausted chuckle. “So much more than I’m afraid to lose her.”
A bright smile swept across her face. “I’m proud of you.”
I was a little proud of myself, too.
A surge of emotion welled in the back of my throat. God, I wanted to see Penelope. Hold her. Tell her that nothing could compete
with how much I loved her. Not fear, not hurt, not the comfort of home. Nothing.
“And if it helps”—Sloan pushed her shoulder against mine, pulling my mom’s ring out of my hands to examine it—“I think this
ring is proof that when you love people, you never really lose them. It’ll work out, don’t worry.”
“Yeah?” I cleared my throat. “How can you be so sure?”
“Well, I think what happened that day when Penelope put this on was divine intervention.” Sloan handed the ring back to me.
“Lily must have known it was Pen.”
I choked out a laugh. There wasn’t a person in the world who was less religious than Sloan. But she summoned spirituality
when trying to drive home a point.
“That or you did.” I blinked away mistiness in my eyes.
I often found myself going over that day in Penelope’s foyer, the one where we got engaged, accidently. It didn’t add up.
Sloan never let anyone handle my mom’s ring. My mom and Sloan were close, and Sloan treasured anything that once belonged to her, but Sloan refused to wear her ring. She never gave a reason other than that it “didn’t feel right.” Ever since Marcus proposed and that ring was moved from the safety of the Sutton vault a couple of times, you would think Sloan was coordinating the movement of a diamond collection, not a singular ring.
It was four modest carats compared to Sloan’s engagement ring, but didn’t go anywhere without an armed guard. Yet Sloan had
Penelope pick it up. Then she had me go get Penelope because she and Marcus were running late.
“Why did you have Penelope pick it up?” I asked, tucking the ring back in the box.
A slow smile, one that she tried her best to stop, arched up her mouth. She looked down at the countertop. “In my defense,
I thought it might spark a conversation, not a wedding.”
A laugh made its way out of my chest followed by a sharp ache. The reality that my best friend wasn’t going to be twenty minutes
away was settling in; a growing pain I’d avoided for years. I was doing the one thing I never thought I could: I was leaving
home, the only place that felt permanent. Safe.
But safety at the expense of my own happiness wasn’t what it seemed. It was cowardice, and for Penelope I wanted to be brave.
Sloan stood from the seat and walked out of the kitchen. A minute later she walked back in with a large frame in her hands.
“Until we can have a new one with all of us. Pen and Selena included.” Sloan sat back down and stared wistfully at the picture.
The four of us at her law school graduation. “Wherever you two land, take this with you. Here, Singapore, wherever.”
Saying the thing she was feeling—a necessary melancholy—without saying it, I took Sloan’s sentiment for what it was.
Things were changing in a very real way now, something she tried to get me to talk about months ago, but I did what I always did and maneuvered past it. It took years for Sloan and me to resolve the fact that we were each other’s emotional crutches. Too scared to venture into a relationship for our own reasons, we hid and pretended we had everything we needed.
Falling for Marcus helped her see she didn’t need her crutch anymore.
And, finally, I wasn’t scared to go without mine.
I ran an arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I’m going to miss you barging into things that don’t concern you.”
“You shouldn’t.” Sloan’s voice faltered. She looked down, running her hand over her cheek, but looking back up at me with
glassy eyes. Her pride wouldn’t let her cry, but I knew she was about to. With a deep, shuddered breath, she went on, “I’m
not going to stop doing that.”
I smiled. “One foot in front of the other?”
She nodded. “Don’t forget that.”
How could I? It was the message written on the back of my copy. A reminder that no matter what happened, life went on.
One foot in front of the other.
“Don’t become the crazy Central Park duck lady when I’m gone.”