17. The Phoenix
The Phoenix
Chapter 17
Tristan’s breath was warm against my neck when I woke up the following morning with his arm draped over my waist, our legs tangled together under the sheets. It should have been comforting, but it only amplified the thrumming guilt gnawing at the edge of my conscience as I realized we had crossed a line we could never uncross. In the light of morning the fog cleared, and Daniel’s face flashed in my mind, sending a sharp pang of betrayal straight through me.
“Morning,” Tristan murmured, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he tightened his grip around me.
“Good morning,” I whispered back, forcing the words out through the tight knot in my throat.
“Did you sleep well?” His hazel eyes met mine, searching for more than what he was asking.
“Um, yes,” I lied, not wanting to admit that I had woken up at some point in the middle of the night, questioning everything I knew about love and loyalty. After three years, the ghost of my late husband still lingered, a silent witness to my indiscretions, and I didn’t know how to make it leave so I could move on.
“Good.” Smiling softly, he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’m gonna take a shower, if that’s okay.”
I nodded, forcing a smile to cross my lips even though I didn’t know if it was real. “Of course. Make yourself at home.”
I couldn’t help but watch him as he walked to the bathroom, the lean muscles of his back moving gracefully beneath his skin as he disappeared behind the door. There was a lot I didn’t know, but I couldn’t deny how attractive he was, and how much I craved his touch.
With Tristan gone, I pulled the sheets tighter around me, trying to make sense of my conflicting emotions. Was it so wrong to feel so drawn to him when my heart still ached for Daniel? My thoughts swirled like an unforgiving tempest, offering no solace or resolution.
But as much as I tried to resist it, there was no denying that Tristan had awakened something within me—something that had lain dormant since Daniel’s passing. It scared me, but at the same time, I couldn’t ignore the comfort and connection I felt with him.
As the sound of water cascading in the shower reached my ears, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to breathe, but I didn’t remain there long, not with the text from Scarlett saying that Evie was asking to go home and play with the kitty.
So, although I would’ve liked to stay curled up in bed longer, I slid out of bed, pulled on some tights and a shirt, and headed out into the main living area. I needed time to process what had happened between us. How much time? I wasn’t sure. I just needed…time.
When I entered the kitchen, I spotted Houdini beneath the table, but he popped up as I walked in, curling around my ankles. “Good morning, you little magician.” Reaching down, I scratched behind his ear. His appreciative purrs brought a smile to my face even when my heart was hurting. “Let’s get you fed.”
With the black cat following my every move as if he was silently urging me to hurry up, or judging me like I was judging myself, I opened a can of his food and set the plate on the ground.
Once Houdini was eating his meal and the coffee dripped, I leaned against the counter, my heart falling back into the tangle of emotions stirring inside me. I stood there for a moment as I listened to the sound of the shower down the hall, my mind spinning as I tried to process the conversation Tristan and I needed to have. Yet, the thought of discussing it with him filled me with apprehension, as if uttering the words would make the situation all too real. The worst part was that the sex had been great—impossibly so. There was incredible chemistry between us, and his willingness to put himself in the line of fire for my family was something most people would die for. There were so many reasons for me to explore something deeper with Tristan, but my damn heart... I just didn’t know if I was ready.
The coffee maker gurgled as I cracked eggs into a pan, my thoughts churning endlessly. I had sacrificed everything to keep Evie safe, including my own happiness. How could one night with Tristan unravel all my resolve?
“I’m sorry, Daniel,” I whispered, just in case he could still hear me. “I never meant for this to happen.” The words echoed hollowly in the empty kitchen, a vain attempt to assuage my guilt. But it was too late for apologies. I had opened the floodgates, and there was no going back. The only question was whether I would drown in the deluge or find a way to stay afloat in the churning sea of emotions Tristan had awakened in me.
The floorboards creaked behind me and I tensed, my heart leaping into my throat. I didn’t dare turn around, afraid of what I might see in Tristan’s eyes. His bare feet padded across the kitchen tiles, coming to a stop a few feet away from me. Avoiding looking at him, I kept my gaze fixed on the eggs, pushing them around the pan.
The silence stretched between us, fragile and tenuous, as if the wrong word might shatter it into a million pieces. I swallowed hard, acutely aware of his presence behind me. His scent enveloped me, sandalwood mixed with the scent of body wash, evoking memories of our night together that I now longed to forget, because I didn’t know how else to forgive myself.
“Caroline?” Tristan’s voice caused me to flinch, and I had no choice but to turn around and look at him. Dressed in a clean pair of dark jeans, beads of water still clung to his toned chest. One thing I couldn’t deny was how handsome he was, even when he wasn’t trying. “Do you need any help?”
“Uh, no, I’m fine,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite the way my pulse raced at the sight of him. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Alright.” Lips tipping up in a smile, he pulled a black T-shirt on and crossed the room, taking a seat at the table. “It smells good.”
“Thank you.” My fingers fumbled with the toaster, nearly dropping a slice of bread onto the floor.
When everything was done, I plated the eggs and toast and brought it to the table, forcing my lips to lift in a half smile. “Here you go.”
His eyes locked on me as he took a sip of his coffee and smiled at me again, my blasphemous mind remembering how those lips felt all over my body. There was nowhere they hadn’t kissed. “Thanks.”
For the next several minutes, we ate in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at him as he ate, wishing things could be less complicated.
“Tristan, about last night...” I began, the words lodging in my throat.
Setting his fork down, he placed his hand on mine across the table, looking directly into my eyes. The way he seemed to look straight through my skin left me so much more vulnerable than I ever allowed myself to be. “We don’t have to talk about it right now if you’re not ready.”
I closed my eyes briefly. My heart ached with uncertainty, longing for resolution but fearing what it might mean. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” he assured me, his gaze softening. “I told you before—I don’t want you to feel forced into anything you’re not comfortable with. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
A heavy sigh escaped my lips, the weight of our unresolved conversation settling on my shoulders like an oppressive fog, but before I could respond, the sound of a car engine and laughter outside froze my thoughts in place. Evie.
Before I was ready, the front door burst open and Evie raced into the kitchen, a toothy smile glued across her face. “Mommy, look what Uncle Ethan gave me!” In her hand was a pink unicorn, its mane striped with a rainbow of bright colors. Ethan and Scarlett followed close behind, a box of pastries in Ethan’s hand from my favorite bakery. The fragile moment between Tristan and I had been shattered into a million pieces and scattered to the four winds. My stomach dropped as I realized we were no longer alone—no longer able to settle things, even if we wanted to. At least not for the moment. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile, pushing aside my turbulent emotions to focus on Evie.
I held out my arms, wrapping them around her as she rushed forward. “I love it, nugget. It’s very pretty.”
Murmuring a quick hello, Tristan walked to the sink and began washing the dishes. I bit my lip, a pang of guilt hitting me at his thoughtfulness. He always seemed to know what needed to be done, anticipating problems before they arose. If only I could be so pragmatic about our relationship—or whatever this was.
Seeming unphased by the tension in the room—or at least pretending to be—Ethan and Scarlett settled in at the table, Scarlett helping Evie assemble a puzzle on the worn wooden surface. I busied myself making fresh coffee, the domesticity of the moment at odds with the riot of emotions inside me.
We fell into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing around me while I remained apart, trapped in the turmoil of my thoughts. Tristan’s eyes met mine across the room, a question in their depths that I didn’t dare answer. Instead, I looked away, a flush heating my cheeks.
The day passed in a blur of forced cheer and pretend normalcy. Baking cookies with Scarlett, playing board games with Evie, all while stealing glances at Tristan and wondering if I was the only one affected by the change in our dynamic. His affection seemed unchanged, a steady warmth that did nothing to alleviate my guilt.
Once night fell and Evie was tucked into bed, an awkward silence descended. Tristan and Ethan had been working on my cottage’s security system all day, but after dinner, we’d all sat down in the living room in front of the television. Ethan put a fight on, and although he and Tristan seemed completely engaged in the violence on the screen, I could not get the thoughts of the night before out of my mind.
Feeling like I may just climb out of my skin, I stood abruptly, nearly knocking over my glass of wine. “I should get to bed. Evie will be up early.”
From across the room, Tristan’s gaze was piercing, seeing far too much. I refused to meet his eyes, instead bidding a hasty goodnight to Ethan and Scarlett. If Tristan came to me after they left, I didn’t know if I would have the strength to turn him away. The thought filled me with equal parts anticipation and dread. I was in too deep and there seemed no straightforward way out. The path before me was shrouded in shadows, the future uncertain. All I knew was that everything had changed.
For the next few hours, I tossed and turned, sleep eluding me. As I waited for the darkness to take me, the clock ticked past midnight, then an hour later.
Finally giving up, I crept down the hall in search of a glass of water. The house was dark and silent, moonlight filtering through the windows to cast shadows across the floor.
As I entered the kitchen, I froze. Tristan stood by the sink, his shirtless back to me. He turned to the sound of my footsteps, eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
Unsure what to say, I licked my lips, my heart stuttering at the sight of him. The air between us was so charged, it pricked my skin.
Setting down his glass, he took a step toward me. “Caroline.”
I shook my head, pulse racing. “Don’t. Please.“ If he touched me, if he said my name like that again, I knew my resolve would crumble. In my frame of mind, I couldn’t give in to my desire to be close to him, no matter how badly I might have wanted to.
“You regret what happened.” His voice was flat, guarded. It was impossible for me to miss the hurt in his eyes before he turned away. “I understand. It won’t happen again.”
“Tristan, I—” The words caught in my throat. How could I possibly explain the tangled mess of emotions inside me? It was too complicated—impossible to put into words.
When he looked at me again, his expression was clear, which only shattered my heart more, because I knew he was doing it for me. “You don’t owe me anything, Caroline. I’m the one who crossed the line. I took advantage of you at a vulnerable moment, and I regret that more than I can say.” Setting his glass in the sink, he dipped his chin, a sad smile pulling up the side of his mouth. “Goodnight, Superwoman.”
Pressing a hand over my heart as a fresh wound ripped open in my chest, I watched his retreating form disappear into the dark hallway. What had I done? In my desire to protect myself, I’d hurt a great man—a friend—someone I knew had honorable intentions. All he’d wanted to do was be there for me, to take care of me, and I’d hurt him.
I stood in the kitchen long after he’d disappeared into the guestroom, adrift, anchorless, and alone, just like I always was.