Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
AUDRA
The knock comes just after eight.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I pause with my glass halfway to the counter, irritation flickering before curiosity catches up. I set it down and cross the apartment.
I look through the peephole.
Alex.
Mark.
My stomach tightens before I let myself think about why.
I open the door.
“Why are you here,” I ask.A sliver of fear enters my chest.
Alex lifts a hand. “Before you assume the worst—”
“Is Derek okay,” I interrupt.
Mark nods once. “He’s okay. Alive.”
“Define okay,” I say, stepping aside anyway. Okay doesn't sound good with "alive" attached to it.
They come in. Not awkward. Not comfortable. Purposeful.
Something’s off.
I shut the door. “Talk.”
They exchange a look. Not a debate. Agreement.
Mark starts.
“He was in a dark place,” he says. “Before anything happened.”
I stiffen. “Define dark.”
Alex exhales. “Quiet. Broody. Shut down. The kind that makes the room feel colder.”
“That’s not unusual for him,” I say.
“No,” Mark agrees. “But this was different. He wasn’t chasing anything. He wasn’t looking for distraction.”
Alex picks it up. “He kept saying he didn’t want… this.”
“This,” I repeat.
“Feelings,” Alex says. “The real kind. The kind that come with expectations.”
I don’t respond.
Mark continues. “He said he’d spent his whole life avoiding exactly that. And then suddenly—there you were.”
My chest tightens. I hate that it does.
“He wasn’t looking for it,” Alex says. “And that’s what scared him.”
“So you took him clubbing to get him out of the house,” I say flatly.
“Yes,” Mark admits. “Because we’re idiots.”
Alex snorts. “Because we thought he needed noise. Something familiar.”
“And instead,” Mark says, “he drank.”
“How much,” I ask.
Alex grimaces. “More than I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t do that.”
I shake my head. “No. I can't imagine he does." Not a man who thrives on control.
“He left,” Mark says. “Drove.”
That snaps my attention back hard. “After drinking like that?”
“Yes,” Alex says. “Reckless. Out of character. Stupid.”
My jaw tightens. “Go on.”
“He went home with someone,” Mark says. “Did what he did.”
There it is. Why couldn't he just tell me that?
“And hated himself for it,” Alex adds immediately. “Not in a performative way. In a real one.”
I scoff. “That’s convenient.”
“I know how that sounds,” Alex says. “But he wasn’t proud. He wasn’t detached. He wasn’t even really present.”
“Then why do it,” I ask.
Mark meets my eyes. “Because it was the fastest way he knew to shut everything down, to act like himself again.”
I look away. “That’s pathetic.”
“Yes,” Alex agrees. “And a little disgusting.”
I glance back at him, surprised.
“He said all he could see was you,” Mark continues. “Even drunk. Even there. That didn’t stop him. It just made it worse afterward.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. I walk back over to grab my wine. Take a sip.
“That was before the gala,” Alex says.
Of course it was.
“And then came Chuck,” I say.
Alex rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Chuck.”
“He wouldn’t shut up,” Mark says. “About you. He'd seen you at dinner with Derek. He kept going on about how impressive you are. How unexpected.”
“How Derek must be enjoying the upgrade,” I add.
Alex grimaces. “Yeah. That.”
“He told him to shut the fuck up,” Mark says.
“Publicly,” Alex adds. “No smoothing it over. No smile.”
“That’s not like him,” I say quietly. That could damage both his reputation and his company.
“No,” Mark agrees. “He only does that when something actually matters.”
That means a lot more than I want it to.
“And Chuck joked about how long it would last,” Alex says.
I close my eyes.
“We handled Chuck,” Mark continues. “That won’t be a problem again.”
“I figured,” I say.
Silence stretches.
Alex finally says, “We didn’t come here to excuse him.”
Mark nods. “Or to ask you to fix anything.”
“Then why are you here,” I ask. “This isn’t easy for me either.”
Mark nods. “We know that. We do.”
Alex looks at me steadily. “But we’re here because you deserved to know this didn’t come from indifference. It came from fear. And it cost him more than he expected.”
I consider that.
“I’m not impressed,” I say.
“We know,” Mark says. “We just didn’t want you thinking it was what you thought it was. You mean something.”
I nod slowly.
They stand.
At the door, Alex pauses. “For what it’s worth—he hasn’t had a drink or gone out since.”
“I didn’t ask,” I say.
“I know.”
They leave.
I lock the door and lean back against it, pulse loud, thoughts messier than I want.
I still think it’s pathetic. I still think it’s ugly.
But I also know now that I mattered. I still do.
I mean something to him. Something he’s never had before. Something he didn’t know how to handle.
And that changes things.
Can we move past this? Can I trust it? Him?
Is it worth it?
I sigh, already knowing the answer.