Chapter 21
INPUT-RESPONSE MISMATCH – CAR NOT REACTING PROPORTIONALLY
“You mean how your name isn’t Christin Gage, but Christin Porter?” I ask lightly.
“Legally, my name is Christin Gage Porter. I go by my mother’s maiden name for work.”
“Why?”
She gives me a look that questions my sanity. I answer my own question. “Because people would figure out you’re Lewis Porter’s daughter.”
She nods. “It started in college. People recognized me and soon, that became who I was—Lewis Porter’s daughter. I used my mother’s maiden name professionally once I graduated.”
“Were you planning on telling me?” I can’t stop the question.
“I always planned to.” She searches my face. “At first, I didn’t because...well, you were honest with me about who you were.” She lets out a quiet breath. “I didn’t want you to like me because of my father. I wanted you to like me because I was simply me.”
My chest tightens.
“Turns out,” she adds with a rueful smile, “we were both trying to escape our surnames.”
Her words settle over me with quiet certainty, stirring something I’d convinced myself I’d forfeited. Hope. She’s looking at me now the same way she did in that bar all those months ago—steady, curious, willing to see the man beneath the title.
The man she chose before either of us knew how spectacularly I’d cock it up.
“You’ll want to pace yourself,” she murmurs.
My brow furrows, confused by her remark. “What?”
She gestures between us. “This. Explaining. Emotional revelations.” The corner of her mouth twitches. “They’re clearly exhausting for you, and I’d rather you were fresh for the track.”
For a heartbeat, I gape at her. Then I can’t help it.
I laugh.
She hasn’t dismissed what I’ve said. She hasn’t mocked me. She’s reminded me that I don’t have to dismantle a lifetime’s worth of baggage in a single evening.
“You don’t have to unpack everything tonight,” she says gently.
Relief slips through me before I can stop it. “Right.”
She gives a single nod.
“Just remember one thing.” Her expression turns serious. “I won’t tolerate being disrespected again.”
The smile disappears from my face. “You never should have been in the first place.”
“I know. And you’ll never have the chance to make me feel as though I don’t matter—or that I don’t belong somewhere.”
There’s no anger in her voice, only the truth of how I broke us reflected back at me.
My chest tightens. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
I drag a hand over my face, searching for words that don’t sound rehearsed or hollow. “May I have the chance to earn your trust again?”
Her eyes search mine. “You really want one?”
I don’t hesitate. “I really do.”
Not because I deserve it, but because she’s worth becoming a man who does.
Silence stretches between us. I’ve spent my whole life learning how to dodge verbal blows without flinching. But this? Christin? I caused her pain. Me. I swore I’d be different from my family because I was wronged. “I’m so sorry, Chris.”
She doesn’t say anything. Her silence is more telling than words. I go on, “When things started to feel real with you, some part of me defaulted to what I was taught from birth.”
“And that includes?”
“Vitriol. Dismissal.”
“It’s good you can name what I felt.”
“I do. And I regret it because it wasn’t directed at you.”
“So, you repeated a pattern?”
“Yes.”
“You still hurt me.”
“I know.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I rush out, “Hurting you was the worst mistake of my life, and I know I can’t fix it with an explanation.”
“Good,” she says quietly. “Because you can’t.”
“But would you be opposed to me trying?” I hold my breath.
She studies me for a long moment. “Trying isn’t the problem, Leo.” Her voice softens. “Giving up the moment it gets hard would be.”
I hear the unspoken fear in Christin’s tone. But she isn’t asking me to walk away either.
For tonight, that’s more than I ever expected.
We walk through the quiet corridors connecting the restaurant to the main hotel, warm air settling around us, everything deliberate, when she remarks, “You’ve spent your life seeking approval.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m figuring out whose approval truly matters.”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
“It is.”
When we stop at the lifts, she turns to face me. “Tonight was…good.”
“I’ll take that.”
I should leave. I know I should. Instead, I move closer. Slowly. Intentionally. Allowing her the chance to stop me.
She doesn’t.
I lower my head and brush my lips against her cheek—barely there. Just enough to feel a familiar thrill in my veins as it sparks memories of the way I used to trace every inch of her skin with my lips.
When I pull back, her eyes drop to my mouth for a fraction of a second before lifting again. “That was a risky choice.”
“I know.”
She can’t prevent the twitch of a smile. “You’re still on probation.”
Despite everything, I smile. “Understood.”
Then the doors open behind her. She edges backward, eyes not leaving mine. “Goodnight, Leo.”
“Goodnight, Christin. Thank you for celebrating with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Once she’s in the lift, she pushes the button for her floor. As the doors close, her gaze holds mine for every second until mirrored glass separates us.
For a long moment, I don’t move because I’m realizing exactly what I’m up against. It’s me versus the version of myself I built to protect my heart.
That version of me has kept me standing. Kept me steady. It also shoved Christin away. My jaw tightens as I straighten, the decision settling into place with a weight I can’t ignore.
Because if I want her, I can’t allow that version of me to win.