Chapter 46
The car was quiet now.
Sam was asleep in the backseat, his head resting against my shoulder, his small mouth slightly open, his chocolate-stained fingers curled loosely at his sides.
He looked peaceful in a way that made my chest ache. Innocent. Uncomplicated. He had no idea that the man driving the car was a mafia boss. He just knew that the tall man had let him ride in the shiny vehicle and called him a dumpster baby.
I wished my heart was that simple.
Caspian's hands were on the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw tight. He kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, like he was afraid I might disappear if he looked away for too long.
The city lights blurred past the windows, casting soft shadows across his face, and I noticed things I hadn't let myself notice in weeks.
The way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. The faint lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. The way his thumb tapped against the leather of the steering wheel, restless and anxious.
He was nervous. A mafia boss was nervous.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we hadn't said.
I thought about the flowers filling my apartment, the breakfast baskets left at my door, the way he had carried every single grocery bag without complaint and let Sam call him Capsicum without correcting him once.
I thought about how he had followed me home every night, staying at a distance, making sure I was safe.
I thought about the way he had looked at me when he confessed everything, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
And I realized, with a jolt that sat deep in my chest, that even after knowing who he really was, I didn't feel scared. I felt safe. And that terrified me.
"I need some time...." I said finally. My voice sounded strange in the quiet, too loud and too soft at the same time. "To digest everything. The mafia family, the heirloom chain, all of it. It's a lot."
He nodded slowly. "I know."
"I understand why you left. Or at least, I'm trying to. You thought you were protecting me. You did whatever you thought was best."
I paused, pressing my lips together. "But that doesn't take away the pain, Caspian. You knew I had been abandoned by the people I loved. You knew about Oliver and Anne. And you still left without a word. Do you have any idea how worried I was? How much I searched for you?
I thought something had happened to you, maybe you got into an accident, maybe you died. I had no clue how to get to you. I felt like a fool after confessing my feelings and getting blocked."
His hands tightened on the wheel. "I know," he said again, and his voice was rough. "I know I hurt you. I know I made you feel like you weren't enough. And I will never forgive myself for that."
I looked down at my hands. "But I also know you had good intentions. Even if they were misguided." I took a shaky breath.
"It's really hard to hate someone if you understand them."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "I couldn't stand it."
I looked up. "What?"
"The thought of someone else beside you. It makes my blood boil." His voice was low, almost reluctant. "Even that five year old. When he gave you flowers, when he said you were his wife, I wanted to throw him out the window."
I blinked. "He's a child."
"I know." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "That's how I knew I was in trouble."
He pulled the car to a stop in front of my building, the engine idling, the streetlights casting a warm glow over the dashboard. He didn't turn off the car. He didn't look at me. He just stared at the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his hands still.
"What happens now?" I asked.
He turned then, finally, and looked at me. His eyes were dark, tired, but there was something else there too. Something that looked like hope, buried under all the regret.
"That's up to you," he said. "I won't push you. I won't pressure you. But I won't give up either. Not unless you tell me to leave. Not unless you find someone else. Not unless you genuinely want me gone."
"And if I never want to see you again?"
His jaw tightened. "Then I'll respect that. But I'll hope every day that you change your mind. And I'll try my best that you do."
I stared at him. This man who had lied to me, who had left me, who had blocked my number after I told him I loved him. He was also the man who had filled my apartment with tulips, who had followed me home every night.
Sam was too heavy for me to carry alone.
I tried to lift him out of the car, but his small body was dead weight, and my arms were weak from weeks of not eating properly. Caspian was already there, his hands gentle as he lifted the boy from the backseat, cradling him against his chest like he had done it a hundred times.
I watched him carry Sam toward the building, this dangerous man with blood on his hands holding a sleeping five year old like he was something fragile. The contrast was so stark that I felt something crack inside my chest.
He waited for me by the door. I unlocked it, and we walked up the stairs in silence, Caspian careful not to jostle the boy, me carrying the lighter bags while he balanced Sam and the rest of the groceries at the same time.
He didn't complain. He didn't even look tired.
I unlocked my apartment door, and he stepped inside, moving through the maze of tulips to lay Sam on the couch. The boy stirred for a moment, mumbling something about dinosaurs, and then settled back into sleep. I pulled a blanket over him and tucked it around his shoulders.
When I turned around, Caspian was standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by flowers, looking at me like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing.
"The groceries...." I said, because I didn't know what else to say.
He went back down to get them.
We put everything away in silence.
It felt familiar, domestic, like the weeks we had spent together before everything fell apart.
He handed me items from the bags, and I put them in their places.
The expensive olive oil went in the cabinet above the stove.
He had made me used to it; I couldn't go back to the cheap one anymore.
The brownies went on the counter because there was no room in the pantry.
The tulips that had been knocked over during Sam's flower-giving spree were back in their vases, arranged haphazardly but still beautiful.
When the last bag was empty, we stood in the kitchen, the small space feeling even smaller with him in it.
"You should go," I said. "It's late."
"Yeah."
Neither of us moved.
"Thank you," I said finally. "For today. For the flowers. For driving us. For... not being terrible with Sam."
His lips twitched. "He called me Capsicum."
"He's five."
"He knows what he did."
I almost smiled. Almost.
I walked him to the door, and he paused with his hand on the frame, looking back at me. His eyes were soft in the dim light, and I could see the exhaustion in his face, the weight of everything he had carried for weeks.
"Elera," he said. "I meant what I said. I'll wait. As long as it takes. As long as you let me."
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
He stepped out into the hallway, and I watched him go. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped inside, his eyes on me until the door closed.
Then he was gone.
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. The apartment smelled like tulips and brownies and him, and I didn't know what to do with any of it.
Maybe, just maybe, I still loved him. That was the problem.
I had never stopped.
? Hey guys! I know I have been lazy and uploading less chapters these days, but I have got a lot in my plate too. But I assure you that I'll try to be less lazy and upload more chapters from now on!