Chapter nineteen
SIERRA
I walk with Viviann and Ruby as they discuss ideas and important things relevant for this project. I make notes diligently, trying to occupy myself without reacting much with the fact that Elias is standing right there.
Seeing him so unexpectedly after weeks really caught me off guard. I wish I knew whose house it was before I arrived and before Elias opened the door. I hadn't breathed right since. Didn't even have time to mentally prepare.
My footsteps echo lightly against the marble, and I'm trying to focus on fabric samples and window measurements instead of the ache in my chest.
The house is so big that everything feels miles long.
Like we'll never finish up and finally have this all wind down.
I'm so eager to get away from here that I can hardly think of anything else.
A phone ringing makes me look over at Viviann and she silences it before turning to me. "This is an important call. Can you handle things in the meantime? I won't be long." She nods my way, and I do too, watching as she goes outside to take the call.
Great. Just great.
I stay behind, eyes skimming the space, and I do the rest like she told me to.
Ruby continues telling me her initial ideas for the open space in the living room, and it feels like her voice is coming from far away, even though she's standing right next to me, gesturing toward the vaulted ceilings and tall windows like she's rehearsed it a hundred times before.
I nod along, doing my best to keep up, but my thoughts are anywhere else but here.
"...and I was thinking soft neutrals here, nothing too bold since the natural light already comes in," Ruby says, holding up a swatch of dove gray fabric like it's supposed to mean something to me right now.
I nod again. "That makes sense."
She gives me a hesitant look, like she's trying to read if I'm even hearing her.
I force a smile, one of those polite ones that doesn't reach my eyes, and step further into the cavernous living room.
I focus on the shape of the space, the way the sun cuts across the floor in perfect rectangles, and the ridiculous, towering emptiness of it all that will become of this.
If houses could feel lonely, this one would be screaming. But I respect the minimalist ideas. It's not my place to put out opinions here, so I keep my mouth shut.
But if it was up to me, I'd go all out on decoration.
Nothing minimalistic. I'd put in colors and shapes and make it cozy and warm.
I can already imagine how the windows would give an amazing view to the backyard in winter, while a soft couch with a fireplace would be next to a tall bookshelf stuffed with novels, photo frames, and tiny plants.
I'd have thick curtains in deep, rich tones, maybe burgundy or forest green, and a rug that feels like it's hugging your feet when you step on it.
There would be warm lighting from lamps with golden shades, fairy lights twisted around shelves, and candles in odd little holders I'd probably thrift somewhere.
A record player in the corner, maybe, with soft jazz or old folk playing.
Big mugs on the coffee table... the list could go on and on.
Not a single corner would feel empty or cold.
"I'll jot these down and we can run them by Viviann when she's back," I offer then, voice steadier than I expected. Upon this, Ruby looks relieved. Maybe I do give off the unsure intern type, and I wouldn't be surprised if she noticed my nerves.
"Are you up for some tea?" She smiles suddenly. "I can make some, and wait for her, then we can discuss the details."
"Sure. That would be great," I say back, because I'm not sure how long Viviann will take, and I don't want us to just stand around and do nothing.
"I wanted to do some changes in my study upstairs," Elias's voice suddenly cuts in, and all hairs on my body stand tall.
Oh no.
"You both can go check that out in the meantime," Ruby says, and Elias agrees in a second. Before I know it, we're already walking up the flight of stairs, and I keep telling myself that I have to just collect the things required, make it quick, and flee.
But just as we're in the middle of walking down the long hallway, I hear his voice as he walks a step behind. "You're avoiding me."
I don't turn my head to face him, and keep my tone flat. "I'm working."
A sigh follows, then he steps forward. His hand wraps around my elbow, halting my movements, as he stands in front of me. I don't meet his gaze, but I can sense the tense energy surrounding us. He pulls me into a private room and closes the doors behind, locking them in place.
This sends a jolt through my spine and my heart rate quickens. I let out a soft breath, already eager to stop this. "Elias, let's not do this. I have to finish everything."
He doesn't say anything. Instead, he steps closer. "You don't even look at me," he says quietly. "It's fucking killing me."
His voice makes my heart clench and my brows pinch together just slightly before he cups my face and tilts my chin up. I meet his eyes, and everything I find there is reflected back to me. He looks like he's aged ten years in two weeks. Like guilt and want are a second skin.
"I'm not interested in married men," I say, but my voice comes out quiet, and a little whispery. My mouth feels like I swallowed sandpaper, and his eyes flash with something that makes me look away again.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he says, and I know what he means.
"It doesn't matter anymore," I say, backing into the wall. He's mere inches from me now. The scent of his cologne hits me over and over, and it's so familiar that I could curl into him and fall asleep.
His hands slip from my cheeks and travel down my collarbones, over my shoulders and arms. The sensation feels so good that I have to do my best to hold back a shivering moan threatening to escape.
"Say something," he whispers.
"I don't have much to say," I tell him quietly.
"Okay." He nods. "At least don't push me away then. I couldn't bear it."
"I just hate that you married her." I finally admit.
"I hate it too."
"I hate that you made me think I meant something, then left like I didn't."
I realize now that he knew on that last night when we were together that he will need to go through with this.
I wish I hadn't agreed to that one last time if I knew as well.
Because it only made me feel things so much stronger.
Elias's hand rises slowly, just hovering and asking me for more permission. When I don't pull away, he touches my face, his thumb brushing my cheek delicately.
"You did," he says, then adds, "You do."
Something in me breaks all over again.
"I miss you," he confesses, and my heart stings even more than the last time he said it. "I miss our conversations. I miss you by my side. Shit, I even miss you calling me names." He chuckles softly, but it sounds sad.
"Elias..." I tilt my head, trying to downplay this before it goes too far, but he doesn't let me.
"Make me stop missing you," he says, and we're so close now that I can barely handle myself anymore. A beat passes, our eyes locked intensely. Then the tip of his nose brushes against my cheek. His arms circle around my waist and hold me tighter, and I can feel my resolve crumbling beneath my feet.
"Do you realize how wrong this is?" I ask, barely above a whisper, but he already looks like he's past the torment of caring.
"Please, Sierra," he murmurs, kissing my jaw, and the feel of his lips makes my eyes drop close for a second.
I feel his hands slide around my lower back, pulling me in more, and I'm fighting the urge to reciprocate.
But despite everything, I don't push him away.
He takes advantage of it, bringing his lips down to the spot under my ear.
He sucks lightly, and my eyes flutter close for good this time.
It feels just like I remember, if not even sweeter.
My breath catches, but guilt slams back into me like a wave a moment later. My hands press against his chest. "We can't. You know we can't." I protest, but he only hums and slips his touch under my shirt.
"Don't you miss me too?" He nibbles on my ear, and my breaths are getting hot and heavy.
I wish I didn't miss him.
I shouldn't.
And yet here we are.
"You giving in just tells me that you need this as much as I do," he continues, and I'm slowly slipping into the pit marked with 'done caring.' Our eyes meet again and without giving it a second thought, I fist his shirt and pull him in like I'm drowning.
Our mouths crash together. It's a hot, frantic mess of breath and hunger and weeks of aching. There's no grace in it. Just hands in each other's hair, lips parting, teeth grazing. I kiss him like I want to punish him, and he kisses me like he's begging for forgiveness.
It's angry, messy and undeniable, and it heals something in me that I've been craving. It feels like we're right back in high school, and like nothing ever went wrong.
My back hits the wall harder this time. Elias groans against my mouth, and I swallow the sound like it belongs to me. He continues with the hungry assault, making our mouths mould together desperately.
"Wait, I didn't mean to, I—" I let out a breath, but he only kisses me again, not letting me speak. He tugs on my lower lip, sucking on it before we pull apart again, our foreheads resting together.
"I'm glad you did."
I just shake my head at that, but he gives me another lingering peck as his answer. "I don't want to keep pretending."
"But you're married—"
"On paper," he says back, and when I look up at him, there's pure longing in his gaze.
"Please, Sierra, you feel it too. I know it." His eyes jump back and forth between mine. I can see his brows pinched together just a little, which is a clear indication that this is important to him. That he can't let it go.
"It doesn't matter, Eli," I say softly.
"It does," he says. "It does matter to me."