Chapter Thirty-Seven
The sharp scrape of a chair on the tile echoed behind her as she raced to the hallway powder room. Flinging the door shut behind her, she collapsed to her knees at the toilet just in time for the flan and whatever else she’d eaten to come back up in a violent wave.
By the time her stomach had finally emptied itself, she sat back on her heels, weak and shaking.
She flushed, moved to the sink, and braced herself on the cool porcelain.
The face that greeted her in the mirror looked like a ghost’s.
Her skin should be bronzed this time of year.
Instead, it was pale, her lips colorless, eyes sunken.
Rinsing her mouth, she splashed water on her face, needing the jolt. Then she dried her hands slowly, stalling. Her fingers hovered over the doorknob.
Chris was out there. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, he’d seen her dash off like a woman possessed. She was going to have to walk out of this bathroom looking like she’d been dragged through the mud and then thrown into a washing machine.
She wasn’t ready to face him. Not emotionally, not physically, not anything. But she wasn’t a coward. Her body still trembled from the adrenaline as she took a deep breath, turned the knob, and stepped into the hallway.
Thankfully, her father and Nic had vanished. Chris was leaning against the wall across from the bathroom. His arms were loosely crossed, concern etched into every line of his face.
When she appeared, he straightened immediately. Took a step toward her and then paused, lowering his hand before it could touch her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced. I just ... I was afraid you’d say no if I asked, and I needed to see you. Can we talk?”
Isabela nodded, her voice caught somewhere in her throat. She turned toward the front door and lead him silently to the porch.
They settled onto the top step and sat in silence, searching for the right words. Chris’s presence was grounding. His scent was a mix of soap and something darker, musky. It was familiar and it wrapped around her like a memory she wasn’t ready to lose.
She wrung her fingers together. So much had gone unsaid. So many apologies and truths piled up inside her. Then his knee bumped hers, and she startled slightly.
“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his leg back quickly. “I wasn’t trying to crowd you.”
Releasing a long sigh, he continued, “Isabela, you have no idea how sorry I am. I’ve been working on myself. I’m seeing a therapist. I’ve spent a lot of time with Sophie. I put my house up for sale.”
He gave a dry, sheepish laugh. “At the time, I actually thought maybe you’d want to help me find a new one.”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “Why?”
“I would do pretty much anything for another chance,” he said, reaching out to run the back of his knuckles along her cheek.
She stared, breathless.
“I know I don’t deserve you. I never have. But I’m in love with you, Izzy. I mean, Isabela,” he said, voice hoarse. “I love you.”
She shook her head, not in rejection but in disbelief. She had longed to hear those words, craved them, dreamed them. Now that they were here, they didn’t feel real. He must have seen her hesitation because he quickly looked down.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know you don’t feel the same. But I’m not giving up on us. What we had, what we have, it’s rare. It’s real. There is no one else I’ll ever want. If there’s even the smallest part of you that can forgive me, that wants a second chance, I’d do anything.”
Her composure cracked, and the tears came fast and hot. She turned away, pressing her hands to her eyes, but it was too late. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs.
“Please don’t cry,” Chris said in a panic. “I’ll go. I’ll leave, I just ... please don’t be upset.”
Still trembling, she reached for his hand and tugged him back down beside her.
“Chris ... sorry...” she managed between hiccups.
His face was impossibly hopeful. He cupped her cheeks with both hands, wiping away the tears as they fell. “Do you want me to go?”
“Yes,” she breathed and he looked ruined.
“I mean, can we go somewhere more private? I have some things I need to say and I would rather not do it at my parents’ house.”
Standing, he held out his hand and helped her up. “I’m renting a place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s close by. If you feel comfortable with that?”
She nodded and allowed him to lead her to his truck parked on the street a few houses down. They rode in silence. Isabela was a nervous wreck. The man she loved finally wanted to give them a chance, but the truth she needed to confess could ruin everything.
Twenty minutes later, she sat on the couch in his new apartment. This space felt even more impersonable, lonelier than the last. Chris sat beside her, knees spread, his hands folded together between them. He looked as nervous as she felt.
She tried to break the ice. “This is um, a nice place.”
“It’s not. But no one was shot here. At least to my knowledge.” He shrugged. “It’s temporary.”
Knowing that Chris was trying to keep it light, she tried for a smile. Instead, another tear leaked down her cheek.
“Damn. When I showed up at your parents’, I was planning to win you back with my charm,” Chris said, a sardonic smile tugging at his mouth. “Definitely blew that.”
Isabela’s heart clenched. That grin, so familiar, hit her like a sucker punch to the chest. She wanted to kiss him desperately, but now wasn’t the time. Not yet.
She owed him honesty and an apology. They had to find solid ground before she could let herself want more, before she could believe that more was even possible.
“I am so sorry for telling Marcus about the July ninth incident ... for betraying your trust.”
When Chris tried to interrupt, she stopped him. Standing, she began to pace. “Please, I need to say this.”
He nodded, so she continued. “There are no excuses. I could have refused to repeat anything that you told me. I probably should have. But I made the decision as your attorney. Even if you hated me, I put your freedom before your feelings, before our relationship. Honestly, I would do it again if it meant keeping you from going to trial. I made a judgement call, and that hurt you. I will always be sorry for that. Then, as if I hadn’t done enough damage, I led Keith right to your front door. ”
Chris leapt to his feet. “Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there because that was absolutely the right thing to do. He had a gun to your head! You deciding to take a dumb risk and lead him somewhere else keeps me up at night.”
She stopped pacing and moved closer, her gaze settling on the side of his head. He seemed to understand immediately and shifted, turning slightly to give her access to the injury. The scar was still raw beneath the shortened hair. Almost absently, she lifted her hand and traced it gently.
“Oh, Chris, I’m so, so sorry.”
He turned toward her. “I will gladly take a hundred more bullets if it means keeping you safe.” Bringing her fingers to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to them.
Another dumb tear escaped, streaking down her cheek. “Chris, before you say another word, I need to tell you something.” She tried to steel herself. “I’m pregnant.”
Chris stilled; his eyes widened in disbelief.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” the words tumbled out of her. “Looking back, I was stressed and forgot to bring my pills on that long weekend trip with my girlfriends. I didn’t mean to tell you like this, like some kind of ambush.”
Her voice trembled, and tears began to swell again. She tried to blink them away, but he was already leaning forward, cupping her face with both hands, gently brushing away the first that escaped.
“Are you sure?” He spoke quietly, awestruck. “You’re ... pregnant. Like, with a baby?”
The absurdity of his phrasing yanked a soft laugh out of her, despite everything. She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I’m pregnant. I’ve taken six tests. It’s not a false alarm. Yes, it’s yours, unless I somehow missed an immaculate conception. And yes ... I imagine it’s a baby.”
He dropped one hand to his thigh, rubbing nervously as he processed her words. “Wow. This is ... I mean, this is a surprise.”
“I know,” she acknowledged. “Before you say anything else, I’m keeping the baby. I just want you to know that I have no expectations. You don’t owe me anything.”
Chris’s head shot up. “Don’t say that.” He leaned closer with sudden urgency, his voice firm. “You should have expectations of me. You deserve that. What I said before, it hasn’t changed. I want you and only you.”
His grip was strong, as he took both of her hands in his.
“My life’s been full of surprises lately,” he said with a tender smile. “For once, this feels like the good kind.”
Isabela stared into his eyes, saw nothing but sincerity and unshakable affection looking back at her.
“Do you want me in your life?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate. “So much. I thought about calling you every single day that we’ve been apart.”
“I wish you had,” he said. “But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”
He leaned in then, kissed her slowly as her fingers laced with his, refusing to let go.
“This feels too good to be true,” she breathed against his mouth.
“You’re telling me,” he pulled back, glancing down at her midsection.
Bracing his hands on either side of her stomach, he raised an eyebrow. “So, we don’t have to worry about birth control for a while.”
She let out a wet laugh and swatted at him. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now.”
A pathetically feminine shriek left her mouth, as he lifted her and carried her toward the back of the apartment. Kicking open a door, his long strides crossed the room before he gently lowered her onto the bed.
He followed her down, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging her in without crushing her. His mouth claimed hers again. The kiss was not frantic or reckless, but certain. Confident.
Need flooded Isabela, as her hands slid beneath his shirt, palms flattening against the hard planes of his back. He shuddered at the contact, the sound he made low and raw in his throat. She loved that she could do that to him.
“This is safe, right?” he asked, voice threaded tight with restraint.
She answered by arching her back.
Christopher’s mouth trailed down her neck, teeth grazing lightly, lips following to soothe the sting.
His hand skimmed her waist, then curved over her hip, fingers digging in just enough to anchor her.
When his palm drifted over her stomach, he slowed, reverent for a moment, then kissed her again with renewed intensity.
His hips rolled and flexed against her, making her giddy that he wanted this like she did.
When she pushed against his chest, he obeyed, turning them so she straddled his hips.
Firm hands gripped her thighs, asking for more without speaking a word.
Biting her lip, she removed her shirt and bra as he watched her with hungry eyes.
“God, Izzy,” he muttered, hands sliding up her back, as he leaned forward. His fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her down for another kiss. “You undo me.”
She rocked against him, slow at first, savoring the way his breath stuttered, the way his grip tightened when she moved just right.
Heat coiled low and steady between them, building instead of rushing.
When he finally flipped her back beneath him, it wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was need.
Then their remaining clothes were being shed, the urgency clear with every gasp.
Pushing inside of her, he moved with a rhythm that stole the air from her lungs.
Her nails dragged down his shoulders. His mouth found hers again and again, swallowing her gasps, his name falling from her lips like a vow.
When release finally crashed through them, it was all consuming. It anchored her hopes in a future for them.
Christopher collapsed beside her, breath ragged, then immediately pulled her against him. One hand slid protectively over her stomach again, thumb stroking absent circles.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice wrecked and certain.
Isabela pressed her face against his chest. “I love you,” she whispered.
His arms formed a cocoon around her, warm and steady. For the first time in a long, long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. This was why she moved back home, not to make partner, but to make a life.
After everything, the betrayals, the threats, the trials, she’d finally found the one place she didn’t have to fight to belong. In Chris’s arms, she was home.
The End