Chapter 28
Cora
Saar
When is the housewarming?
I’m still unpacking.
Celeste
Is the bistro open yet?
No (eye-roll emoji). It’s a never-ending project.
Saar
It’s going to be great.
That’s what Tessa thinks.
Celeste
We need to find a new spot to hang out. I miss you.
I miss you too. I’m sorry, it’s been a crazy month.
Saar
Let’s have lunch together soon.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” I say, my hands clammy as I shake Andrew’s hand.
Andrew Sinclair is a literary agent who called out of the blue and wanted to meet me, raving about my stories.
Out of the blue is incorrect, because I know Xander is behind it. A part of me wanted to fight him on it, but I’m learning to accept help from others.
We order lunch at a swanky restaurant on Madison Avenue and East 61st Street, while he tells me what he loved about my stories and goes through a detailed list of notes about suggested revisions.
My initial unease and nervousness evaporate within the first five minutes. Andrew is very easy to talk to, knowledgeable, and his suggestions are great. Most of them, anyway, but he lets me express my opinions without pushing me in his direction.
Our creative brainstorming flows so naturally, I don’t even realize what I ate until the plate is empty.
“I have a confession, Cora. When Xander called, demanding I read your stories, I did so out of obligation. But I’m glad I read them, and I agree with him; they shouldn’t stay in your drawer.”
“Thank you.”
“I invited you here because I wanted to see how difficult you are to potentially work with.” He takes off his glasses. “And I’m pleased to see that you’re smart and creative, but also flexible with your artistic vision, which is a brilliant combination.”
“You have a great sense for storytelling, and certainly more experience than me. I enjoyed this creative session. It wasn’t as slaughtering as I feared.” I smile at him.
He laughs. “I’m glad to hear that. I would like to represent you. I also think Xander’s idea for the book launch is fantastic, but would better suit a smaller publisher. Are you okay with that?”
“Xander’s idea for the launch?” I’m barely accepting that I may share my stories with the world, and he’s already planning the launch?
“To launch it at the schools that partake in the healthy lunch program you run.”
I giggle nervously, trying to hide my confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought you ran it, since it’s called C.O.R.A.”
I blink a few times. “I don’t run it.” I remain vague, because Andrew may reconsider his collaboration with a woman who either has memory loss or is completely oblivious.
“Shit, I hope I didn’t spoil any surprises.”
I laugh, sounding only slightly deranged. “It’s too soon to talk about the release event anyway.”
“I need you to approve these changes to the layout.” Tessa pushes blueprints and spreadsheets in front of me as soon as I enter.
“Hello to you, too.”
I plop down on one of the two chairs left in the place. The space has been stripped to its bare bones.
I spent all my childhood birthdays here. I drank my first Zinfandel here. I poured myself into this place for years.
But it’s like my memories belong to a different space. It’s unrecognizable. Yes, it’s still under construction, but it’s been reshaped, changed, and… improved. It will take a moment before I find my place here again.
“Hello.” Tessa sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve been here since six o’clock, and I need to move on with these. What do you think?”
I’m kind of grateful she wants my opinion, but also annoyed. Her enthusiasm doesn’t reach me. It kills the creative flow that carried me from my lunch with Andrew.
I entered the bistro eager to share my news with my sister, and instead I’m being pulled into this. I mean, it’s my business and my job, so why does it feel like a distraction? Like a nuisance?
The idea squeezes at my stomach, but it’s more because the whole concept of this business lingers in the past.
“What am I looking at?” I squint at the drawings in front of me.
“Jesus, don’t sound so enthusiastic,” Tessa huffs, but immediately launches into a detailed explanation of the proposed changes.
“I didn’t know we would remodel the whole place. We hired Gina to help us with publicity, profitability, and reopening. This is way above and beyond—”
“Cora, Cora, Cora.” She sighs. “We’ve been closed for weeks now, so why not spruce up this place to its maximum potential?”
“What would Dad say?”
As the question falls between us, I realize I asked on autopilot, not because it matters or because he cares, but because somewhere deep down, I still live the reality of preserving his place, his legacy. Of him caring about it.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not coming back. Besides, you haven’t visited him since you learned about the real reason behind our parents’ break-up, so I’m not sure why you ask.”
Yeah, I haven’t found it in me to face him yet. It’s not even about forgiveness. He broke our family and has lived with the consequences ever since. I don’t need to add my disappointment to it.
I forgave him, I think, but I still can’t go there and just pretend things are what they used to be. Nothing is what it used to be.
“You’re right. I think these are great. Let’s move forward with them.”
“I’m going to visit him later today. Do you want to come?”
I should. I really should. But today has been wonderful so far, and I’m not ready yet.
“I still have a lot of unpacking to tackle.” It’s not a lie. Nor is it a good excuse, but here we are.
“Okay, but go see him sooner rather than later.” Tessa, who’s spent about a tenth of the time with him I have, sounds all sensible and concerned.
Maybe this project did change her in a good way. And maybe that is the best legacy from what Dad started.
“You know what. I’ll go with you.”
The visit is like any other, and completely different. Dad is quiet, deep in his own world, and I, for once, don’t feel the heavy duty of pulling him out.
He made his choices. Those choices affected my life. But I can’t change the past. I can only embrace the present, and make better choices about my future.
Holding Dad’s hand, with my head on his shoulder, I let Tess chirp about the bistro. It’s a surreal moment with our little family.
My sister is different. My bond with Dad has shifted. Despite everything, we’re still us.
A small, dysfunctional family.
So different from Xander’s.
I think about the distinction as I make my way to the townhouse. Our upbringing and family dynamics are another gap between us I would have held against him—us—a few weeks ago, but getting to know my husband, I realized we all have many facets, and I can’t judge and assume.
Even Dad, with his own drama and betrayal, still showed up for me in many ways. The Zinfandel birthdays were real. He was there for me after Ethan.
These are the memories I’m going to cling to.
And similar loving, joyful memories are what close the gaps between me and Xander.
Kindness means we give the other person a chance. Perhaps they prove us right. Hopefully, they will surprise us pleasantly.
Not giving a chance means potentially robbing myself of a beautiful experience.
On the way home, I buy a bouquet of sunflowers. Getting the vase, I find a small box with my favorite pistachio Danish and a note on the kitchen counter.
I love you, Coraline. X.
Every day I find something from him that makes me feel seen. Happy. Content.
It’s the little gestures like the notes, a rare vintage of Zinfandel, a book, or an ice cream. So much more meaningful than the island.
I smile, inhaling the scent of my home—sunflowers, moving boxes, Xander’s cologne. Perfection.
Xander has been extra attentive in the past two weeks since we returned from California. He couldn’t say he was sorry, but he’s making sure he shows it to me.
I walk into the living room looking for the cats. The bay window alcove has quickly become my favorite place in our new home. The house is still a war zone with boxes and haphazardly strewn furniture, but here I find peace. Here I write my stories. Here I wait for Xander to come home.
And here I find Pitt and Clooney, who quickly claimed the upholstered bench as their own. I scratch their heads, sit, and finally search up C.O.R.A. online.
Community Outreach for Responsible Appetite is a project run by a woman I don’t know—not me or Xander—and the spokesperson is Pavel. My neighbor Pavel. His school is where the healthy lunch initiative started.
Xander Stone, when on earth did you manage this?
He comes home later, looking his usual gorgeous self, and finds me still at the bench.
“I’m finally sure we have only two cats.” He leans against the wall, smiling at me.
We have two cats.
“Maybe the other eight are hiding.”
“They are not. My wife isn’t an old cat lady.”
I laugh. “Isn’t she?”
“How was your meeting with Andrew?”
Still wearing his suit, with one leg crossed at the ankle and his tie loosened, he looks both a powerful business executive and a playful man who brings lightness to my life.
My smile widens. “Great. Thank you for taking the first step for me.”
“Any time, love, any time.”
Pushing off the wall, he leans in to kiss me. Pitt protests loudly and jumps down. Clooney stretches his paws and follows.
“Finally, they know who the boss is,” Xander murmurs and sits beside me, his lips on mine.
I giggle into the kiss. “Keep thinking that.”
He hoists me over, positioning me on his lap, straddling him. “I will need to stuff that pretty little mouth of yours with my cock.”
His words zip through me like an electric current. I’m instantly aroused. And interested, even though we’ve never done that after I shared my feelings about blowjobs.
He snakes his arms around me. “Just talk.” He peppers my collarbone with kisses, staying true to his promise we’d only do what I’m comfortable with.
“I’d like to taste you.”
He lifts his gaze. “Are you sure?”
“It might be a very mediocre blowjob given my lack of experience, but it will be an eager one.” I bite my bottom lip.
“I want to be chivalrous and tell you it’s not necessary, but I’m a simple man, and your offer redirected my blood from my brain to…” He looks down, to where his erection strains against his pants.
I lift my hips and unzip him. “We need to help you with that. But before that, let me think about any benefits I could gain from that lack of blood in your brain.”
He laughs. “As if there was anything I would ever deny you.” He kisses me while he fists his cock. “I don’t even need to be dazzled by your pussy.”
I slide down to kneel in front of him. “I might need some instructions.”
“Wrap your mouth around my cock and enjoy. Just like a lollipop or an ice cream.”
I roll my eyes. “I want to do it right.” I wrap my hand around his girth, and he hisses.
That simple sound gives me confidence.
“Coraline, take my cock into your pretty mouth. Just discover. We have a lifetime to perfect your skills.”
We have a lifetime.
I lick my lips and then flick my tongue over his tip, tasting the clean saltiness of him. He hisses again, and I look up, our gazes clashing.
“Warning, I don’t think I can last,” he grits out.
His struggle, along with his heated gaze, spurs me into action, and I wrap my lips around him, slowly taking as much of him in as possible. It’s not much, but I try to compensate with my hands.
“Fuck, Cora, such a good girl. You… are… doing…” he pants, “so good.”
I find a rhythm, feeling my own arousal pooling in my panties. I didn’t expect this heady feeling. This satisfaction. I didn’t appreciate how intoxicating it could be.
Xander’s hands curl into fists at his side. He’s trying to hold onto some control, letting me lead. Even in this, he puts me first.
The intimacy of the moment spreads in my chest, burning, consuming me.
“I’m coming,” he groans, pushing me away.
But I don’t let go.
“Cora,” he cries, and spills himself inside my mouth before he collapses against the window.
“You taste good.” I wipe the corner of my mouth when he looks at me, his eyes burning with desire and adoration.
“That was the best head ever.” He pulls me up, settling me back astride his legs, my skirt hiked up.
“You don’t have to lie to me, but I enjoyed it.”
“I can see that.” He smirks, eyeing the wet patch on my panties. “And I’m not lying. Everything is better, bolder, and new when love is a part of the equation.”
I kiss him, playing with the hair on his neck.
“Thank you for the Danish.”
“Had I known you’d suck my cock for that, I would have gotten one sooner.” He winks.
I laugh. “You did get me a few before.”
We stare at each other, grinning, like this is the only place to be. Like the life outside of this bubble doesn’t exist.
I give him a peck. “Before we continue with the evening program, would you care to tell me about C.O.R.A.?”
He raises his eyebrows. “What is the evening program?”
“It will be unpacking if you don’t start talking.”
“It seems like you already know.” He shrugs.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
He trails my chin with his finger, the touch light and reverent. “I don’t know; it felt like bragging.”
I snort. “It’s called sharing, you idiot.”
He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s deep and passionate. “I’ll get better at sharing, I promise.”
And I know he will.
“I love you, Xander Stone. Unconditionally.”
He cups my face in both his hands, not kissing me, just holding me. “No one has ever chosen me without conditions.”
“No one has ever believed in me the way you do.”
“I guess we’re meant to be together.”
“I guess it’s always been inevitable.” I kiss him gently. “Besides, you named a charity after me,” I tease.
“What can I say, Coraline—I used to think profit was the only metric worth chasing. Then you handed me a cereal box and rewired my brain.”
We grin at each other, before he scoops me up and carries me to the bedroom where we enjoy each other, foolishly believing we’ve found our forever.