Chapter 27
A WEEK LATER
I’m in my room, completely immersed in designing my clothing line. Sketches are scattered across my desk, my pencil moving almost on autopilot as I lose myself in my thoughts. The soft hum of creativity is comforting, but it shatters when my phone rings, pulling me back to reality.
I hesitate, glancing at the screen. For a moment, I consider letting it go to voicemail. Then I see the caller ID: Abby. My heart skips. Excitement floods me, and before I know it, I’m grabbing the phone.
“Hi! Hello… Hi!” I blurt out, my voice practically bubbling over.
“Hey, baby sis, how are you?” Abby’s voice greets me. But something about it feels… different. She doesn’t sound sad or angry, but there’s an unfamiliar tone I can’t quite place. Is it the pregnancy?
“I’m okay! How about you?” I reply, my cheeks aching from the grin spreading across my face.
“I’m great,” she says quickly. “I’m actually busy, so I can’t talk long. I just wanted to say that I miss you, and… I’m really sorry.”
Her words catch me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless.
“Abby, no,” I finally manage. “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m the one who wronged you, and I promise, I’ll never do something like that to you again.”
She sighs softly, the kind of sigh that says there’s more she wants to say but won’t.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she says after a pause. “And we will, when the time is right. For now, I just wanted to say that I love you, Blair. I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”
The words hit me like a wave. I pull the phone away from my ear for a second, double-checking the name on the screen. Is she dying or something?
“I… I love you too,” I manage, my voice shaky with emotion. “And thank you for reaching out to me.”
“Anytime. Bye, my love.”
“Bye,” I reply, and the call ends.
For a moment, I just sit there, the silence of the room amplifying the racing of my heart. Did that really just happen? Overwhelmed by the happiness swelling in my chest, I decide to celebrate in the best way I know how: with food.
I head to the kitchen, pulling chicken breasts from the freezer to thaw while turning on my favorite playlist. As music fills the air, I sway to the beat of Beyoncé’s Sorry like no one’s watching.
Today is a good day, better than I could have imagined. Abigail’s finally called, and even though she didn’t outright say she forgives me, this is more progress than I ever thought’d happen.
As I cook the pasta and prepare the broccoli, a sense of contentment envelops me. For the first time in what feels like forever, things seem to be falling into place. Just as I’m about to slice the chicken, a knock at the door interrupts my musical bliss.
“Coming!” I call out, pausing the music and quickly washing my hands.
I glance through the peephole and freeze. Calvin. Calvin is here. Standing on the other side of my door.
My mind races. What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be on his honeymoon? Does Abigail know he’s here? Is this some kind of test? What do I do?
“Peach, please let me in. I have some explaining to do,” he pleads, his familiar voice muffled. My eyes squeeze shut at the sound of that nickname. Peach. I thought I’d never hear him call me that again. I’ve missed him, God, I’ve missed him. His voice, his presence… everything.
But I don’t answer. Maybe if I stay quiet, he’ll leave. Except he already heard me call out earlier. Damn it.
“I didn’t marry your sister,” he blurts out, the words detonating in the silence like a well-aimed grenade. Against my better judgment—though, have I ever had any when it comes to him?—my fingers find the lock.
I open the door but don’t linger. Instead, I turn on my heel and head back to the kitchen, pretending like his presence is nothing out of the ordinary. Washing my hands again, I resume cutting the chicken with sharp focus, each slice more deliberate than the last. Normalcy is my only defense now.
“Thank you,” Calvin says softly, his voice almost too gentle, like he’s afraid of the space between us. “Here. I brought these for you.”
I can’t stop myself. I glance up to see a bouquet of white tulips, so pure, so fucking innocent, held in his hands. My chest tightens, the familiar ache spreading like wildfire. Forgiveness. But it’s not just the white tulips. Nestled in the center is a single red tulip.
My brow furrows as the word swirls in my mind. True love, the message couldn’t be clearer. And yet… it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. It can’t matter.
He shouldn’t be here.
“Baby,” he says, his voice raw with something I can’t quite place, taking a step closer to me.
I freeze. No.
With a sharp, deliberate motion, I slam the knife down against the cutting board. The sound of the blade hitting the wood is loud, jarring, cutting through whatever words he was about to say.
Calvin stops in his tracks. There’s a flicker in his eyes, a moment of hesitation, but he doesn’t retreat like he should.
For a long, unbearable stretch of time, the only sound is the faint hum of the fridge.
Finally, he speaks again.
“Okay,” he says, “you don’t want me close, and that’s fair. But can you put the knife down so we can talk?”
I don’t look at him. I can’t. But I feel him, the force of him, looming over me, larger than life in this tiny, cold apartment. The heat of his presence presses down on me, making the space feel even smaller.
“Blair…” Now he’s more cautious, like he’s afraid of pushing me too far.
I glance at him coldly, still gripping the knife. “What are you doing here, Calvin?”
“Well, your friend Dylan got in contact with me and told me everything. That’s how I found out Abigail knows about us and that she asked you to leave,” he says, his voice tight with emotion. “I thought you left because you hated me…”
“That too,” I cut him off sharply.
He flinches but continues, jaw tightening. “I know. Abigail and I…” he pauses, his gaze dropping to the counter as though searching for courage. “Here,” he says, sliding a folded piece of paper across the counter. “Just read this. It’ll explain everything.”
Skeptical, I turn the stove off, dry my hands, and begin to read.
The blur of words forms a shocking revelation.
My breathing becomes shallow. I understand what it means, but the betrayal burns like acid in my chest. Without a second thought, I walk straight to Calvin and slap him hard across the face.
The sound of it ricochets through the apartment.
My palm stings, but it’s nothing compared to the ache clawing at my chest.
“What is this?” I demand. My hands tremble as I shove the paper back at him.
“I know you’re mad…”
“Mad?” I scoff bitterly. “Mad doesn’t begin to cover it. Try angry. Try fucking furious.”
Calvin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to tell you. Fuck, I wanted to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t risk it.”
“A fucking contract? Really?” I snap, waving the paper in front of his face. The document is a non-disclosure agreement between him and Abby, outlining the terms of their ‘fake engagement/wedding’.
I stare at him, disbelief and rage roaring in my chest. “You lied to me. Both of you lied to me. You just stood there, letting me believe I was the worst person in the world. Do you have any idea what you put me through? Thinking I betrayed my sister? Thinking I was a homewrecker?”
His shoulders sag as though the weight of his own guilt is finally crushing him. “I know, Blair, I was wrong, and I’m…”
“Why now?” I cut him off because I don’t want his ‘sorry’. “Why are you showing me this now?”
He steps closer, his eyes brimming with emotion.
“Because I couldn’t stay silent anymore.
Because losing you, watching you walk away, was one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me.
I love you, Blair. I think I loved you the moment you made me watch Barbie with you.
And I couldn’t let you keep carrying the weight of something that was never your fault. ”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Love. He says it like it’s supposed to fix everything, like it’s enough to erase the hurt, the betrayal, the months of self-loathing.
But it isn’t.
It never will be.
“I had a long talk with Abigail,” he continues. “I told her I love you and wanted to be with you.”
Every time he says the word love, my legs weaken beneath me. I stumble backward and sink onto the coffee table, unable to keep standing.
He doesn’t stop; his words come steadily, almost ruthless in their honesty.
“The NDA was my idea. When I met your sister, all I wanted was to build my skyscraper. It was my dream, Blair. The only thing I’d worked toward for years, and I wasn’t willing to lose it.
And the board thought I needed to soften my image, make myself more approachable.
So I figured… why not kill two birds with one stone? ”
He takes a breath, eyes flickering with regret. “I offered Abigail a deal: marry me, stay for a year, then walk away with a million dollars. She agreed. But she had her own terms.”
He hesitates, shame creeping into his expression.
“She wanted me to play the perfect, adoring fiancé in front of your family. And more than anything, she wanted me to stay away from you.”
My chest tightens. Every word feels like a blade.
“But then I met you,” he says. “And everything changed.”
I force a bitter laugh, and it shatters in the air. “So, did you get to fulfill your dream? Was it worth it?”
“No,” he says. Just one word, and I can see the disappointment in his eyes, because I know what it cost him, what it meant to build that skyscraper. I know it was a promise to his father; one he’s clung to since the day he died. And somehow, knowing that just makes the pain heavier.