Chapter 28
The next morning, I wake up earlier than I have in years.
It’s not intentional. My body refuses to let me sleep.
It hasn’t let me sleep properly since Blair left.
I’ve grown so used to being wrapped around her, to feeling her warmth next to me, that the bed feels like a cold, foreign place without her.
I sit up and rake a hand over my face, staring blankly at the ceiling.
My chest feels heavy, a dull ache that refuses to ease.
I miss her. I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone as much as I miss Blair.
Her laughter, her smart mouth, the way she could light up a room without even trying, it all haunts me, has taken up permanent residence in my mind, replaying in a cruel loop.
The hotel I’m staying at is five minutes from her apartment. It’s not the best place I’ve ever stayed, not even close, but it was the nearest option. That’s all that mattered. I couldn’t bring myself to be farther away from her than absolutely necessary.
I glance at the clock on the bedside table.
It’s too early. Blair would never be awake at this hour.
She sleeps like the dead when she has the chance, stretching her mornings out until noon if no one pulls her from the bed.
I smile faintly at the thought, remembering how stubborn she could be about her mornings.
But the smile doesn’t last.
She’s not here. She’s not wrapped up in the blankets, grumbling about the light streaming through the curtains. She’s not stealing the covers or kicking me in her sleep.
She’s not mine.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut every time.
With a heavy sigh, I drag myself out of bed and grab my phone off the nightstand. My inbox is a disaster, hundreds of unread emails, meetings I’ve missed, and tasks that need my attention. Normally, the chaos would stress me out, but right now? None of it feels important.
I’m not blind to the mess waiting for me back home. Deals are hanging by a thread, projects are piling up, and my team is probably questioning whether I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
But none of that matters. The only thing that matters is getting Blair back.
I settle at the small desk in the corner of the room, flipping open my laptop. I tell myself I’ll get some work done, be productive while I wait for a reasonable hour to see her, but it’s a lie.
Every email I open, every task I attempt, my mind drifts back to her.
I run a hand over my face, frustrated with myself. “Focus,” I mutter under my breath, but it’s useless.
The hours drag on, and by mid-morning, I’ve given up on pretending to care about emails. Instead, I find myself pacing the room. I grab my phone and call my brother. I need a distraction.
The moment the clock strikes noon, every fiber of my being urges me to go to her, pound on her door, and plead for just a moment of her time. But I know better. Showing up uninvited would only make things worse.
Instead, I pin my hopes on the delivery I arranged earlier. A bouquet of peonies and lilacs. Just the flowers. She’ll know what they mean. She always does. Peonies for healing, lilacs for memories. Together, they’re a whisper of everything I wish I could say.
Now all I can do is wait.
And I wait… and wait all day. Nothing.
The next day, I personally deliver a box of macarons, her favorite, as she once mentioned, with a handwritten note. I know how much she loves romantic gestures, so I want this to be special.
I knock on her door, my heart pounding with anticipation. No answer. I wait. Ten minutes turn into thirty, then close to an hour. Still nothing.
Reluctantly, I place the box of macarons carefully by her door and slide the note underneath. I give the door a final glance, hoping she’ll open it at the last second, but when she doesn’t, I turn and leave, uncertainty settling heavily on my chest.
Peach,
I know I messed up, and I’ll never stop regretting it. But I’m here, and I’m not giving up on us. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m worthy of you.
Yours always,
Calvin.
By the third day, I can’t take it anymore, so I call Abigail.
“Yes, Calvin?” she answers, already annoyed.
“Have you spoken to your sister?” I cut straight to the point. There’s no time for pleasantries.
She sighs heavily, sounding as drained as I feel. “No. She’s not answering my calls, but I know she’s okay because she’s been in touch with our parents. Why? Haven’t you seen her yet?”
“I saw her three days ago,” I admit, my voice strained. “And she wants nothing to do with me. I don’t know what to do to get her to at least talk to me.”
There’s a beat of silence before her tone shifts into something sharp and unforgiving.
“Are you seriously calling me for help with my sister? You? The reason she won’t even speak to me.
Do you have any idea how much this hurts?
We were inseparable before you came along.
That’s my baby, Calvin. I asked you not to touch her.
But you just couldn’t keep your damn hands to yourself, could you? ”
“Alright, enough,” I snap. “Either you help me or get off my line. I don’t have time for this, Abigail.”
“Whatever,” she bites out. But her voice softens, just slightly. “Calvin. I swear, if you hurt her, I will ruin you. I’d lay down my life for her.”
I roll my eyes because we both know she can’t do shit.
“Look,” she says, exhaling deeply. “Right now, she feels betrayed. You broke her trust, and that’s not something she’ll let go of easily.
But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.
Trust me, she does. She’s just… processing it all.
Keep showing up, Calvin. Keep proving to her that you’re not giving up. She needs to see that.”
Her words hang in the air as I absorb them. Keep showing up. It’s all I’ve got left to do. “Thanks,” I say before hanging up.
The sun is blazing today, casting sharp beams of light across the bustling streets outside my hotel. It’s the kind of heat that makes everything feel alive, amplified. Determined, I head to her building. Again, I wait for someone to exit and slip inside unnoticed.
This time, I don’t bother knocking. I already know she might not answer, and I’m done playing it safe.
I don’t have to wait long. Just a few minutes later, I hear footsteps echoing up the stairwell.
My chest tightens as she comes into view, carrying a heavy tote bag that looks like it’s weighing her down.
She’s stunning, even in something as simple as jean shorts and a pink spaghetti-strap top.
The thin fabric clings to her, and it’s painfully obvious she isn’t wearing a bra.
My body reacts instantly, desire flaring through me like a live wire.
I push off the wall and stride toward her. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and for a brief second, I catch her startled expression. It’s cute how she’s always a little off balance when I’m nearby.
“Calvin?” she says sharply. Her eyes narrow, but I don’t give her time to protest. I take the tote bag from her without asking.
“What’s up, Blair?” I drawl, licking my lips as my gaze drags over her.
Her jaw tightens, her annoyance clear, but I see it, the flicker of something deeper behind her glare. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you.”
She stiffens, her guard shooting up like a fortress. For a second, I think she might bolt, but she doesn’t. Instead, she exhales, her shoulders dropping slightly, though her expression remains guarded. “I told you I needed time.”
“And I gave you time,” I reply, stepping closer. “But I think you’ve had enough, don’t you?”
Her lips part, but no words come out. She looks up at me, and I can see the war waging behind her eyes, pride battling against the magnetic pull between us whenever we’re in the same space.
“Calvin, you can’t just…” she starts, then abruptly stops herself, biting down on her bottom lip.
I take a deliberate step closer, my eyes locked on hers. “Invite me in,” I say. I shift the tote bag slightly, playing up the weight of it. “This is starting to get heavy,” I lie.
She huffs, rolling her eyes in that way she always does when she’s trying to act annoyed. But I catch the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the smile she’s fighting so hard to hide.
With a soft sigh of defeat, she steps past me, unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Fine,” she mutters.
I follow her inside, setting the bag down on the nearest surface.
Her apartment is unapologetically girly and brimming with personality.
The open floor plan allows the living room and kitchen to flow seamlessly together, the space bathed in soft pink, white, and gold accents.
A blush-colored sofa sits at the center, its plush cushions scattered with mismatched throw pillows in delicate floral prints and sequins.
The coffee table is covered in a mix of magazines, a sketchpad with half-finished designs, and an empty coffee mug with lipstick smudged along the rim.
A garment rack near the corner displays an array of vibrant fabrics and unfinished outfits, while a mannequin stands draped in what looks like her latest project, a fitted dress with intricate beading along the bodice.
The kitchen, separated only by a marble-topped island, is equally feminine. A vase of peonies and lilacs sits proudly in the island’s center. I guess she got my gift. The apartment is cozy, lived-in, and just slightly messy, just like her.
“Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” she quips, kicking off her shoes and padding barefoot across the room.
I can’t help but grin, leaning casually against the island as I watch her. “You always this hospitable, or is it just for me?”
She shoots me a glare over her shoulder, but I see the flush creeping up her neck. “Why are you here, Calvin?”