Chapter 33
CHRIS
Relentless knocking echoed through the entire house.
It bounced off the high ceilings and the polished floors, filling every corner.
The house always felt too big for one person, and you could still feel the faint scent of cedar and leather from new furniture in the air.
The doorbell chimed, slicing through the silence again.
“What the hell?” I muttered, pushing off the couch and striding toward the door. Whoever this was, they were about to get an earful. I swung the door open, ready to say something, but then I froze.
Jules.
She was standing there, looking up at me with those wide caramel eyes that could make me forget how to breathe. For a second, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but the cold wind rushing in brought her scent—chamomile—with it.
“Hi,” she said softly, almost unsure.
“Oh… Hi,” I replied, caught completely off guard.
I was staring at her like an idiot. She was really here.
After convincing myself I’d never see her again, she was standing on my doorstep.
Say something. “I’m sorry. Come on in,” I managed, stepping aside to let her in.
She moved past me into the house, and I stood there, still processing.
Jules was in my house.
I turned to close the door, taking a deep breath before I looked at her again.
Her red hair fell in soft waves down her back, catching the light just right.
I had dreamed of her being here more times than I could count.
The house looked different in the dreams. Better, warmer…
more like a home. But this wasn’t a dream.
And I honestly didn’t know what to do with that.
She was nervous. The way her hands clenched, her nails digging into her palms. I knew that habit of hers too well. My chest tightened. I wanted to do something, anything, to help her. Say something. Offer her a drink, a chair, anything to get her to loosen those hands before she left marks.
“Is everything ok?” I asked, finally finding my voice. I wasn’t one to catastrophize, but if she was here—after everything I’d done—there had to be a serious reason for it.
She turned around to face me, her eyes meeting mine, and I searched her face for answers. Was she here to yell at me? To forgive me? To tell me to move on?
“Yeah. Everything’s good,” she said, but her hands were still clenched. I noticed them again, unable to stop myself from staring. I debated pointing it out, but before I could, she saw me looking and awkwardly adjusted herself, hiding her hands.
I cleared my throat, shifting my weight. "Can I get you something to drink? I don't have any alcohol in the house, but... soda?"
There was almost a smile there. I could see the flicker of hope, but it never fully reached her lips. It wasn't a big deal. But she noticed.
I was trying to cut back on alcohol. Actually, last night had been my only big relapse since I'd shown up at her door drunk at three am.
That had nearly sent me spiraling. I thought about going out and buying every bottle of whiskey I could get my hands on.
But soaking in my poor choices with even more poor choices felt.
.. futile. I'd told her I would try. I'd failed, yes.
But I hadn't promised perfection. I'd promised effort.
And even if she wasn't here to see it, I'd keep trying.
"I'm okay..." she said quietly, the words barely out.
Since I couldn't distract myself by getting her a drink, I stood there awkwardly, hand shoved in my pockets. Like they needed to be hidden or she'd somehow see how badly they wanted to reach for her.
"So..." I said, trying to sound casual. "What brings you to Boston?"
“I wanted to thank you,” she said.
I paused, turning to face her. “What for exactly?” For being an asshole? For making her life a complete mess? I didn’t deserve her thanks for anything.
“The script,” she clarified.
Ah. That.
The script had been remarkable, no surprise there.
It was one of the best things I’d read in years, maybe decades.
And I hadn’t done much. Not really. All I did was pass it along to people who couldn’t ignore it.
But Jules deserved more. She deserved a whole damn world, and I was so sorry I wasn’t there when her dreams were crushed the first time.
“Carol told me,” she added, like that explained everything.
“It was a good script,” I said, walking toward the couch and gesturing for her to sit. “I just showed it to the right people.”
“Thank you,” she said again, before sinking onto the couch.
“Of course…” I replied, trying to sound casual.
I sat down on the opposite end, putting as much space between us as I could.
I needed to function, to keep myself from doing something stupid.
Her scent was already filling the air, and it was like being suffocated in the best and worst way.
I couldn’t handle it. Not her smell, her eyes, her body…
I had to hold out, to stay away for as long as possible.
“You dropped out of the movie…” she said, finally breaking the silence.
“Yeah, yeah…” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I just… needed some time away from the hustle, you know? Vanessa thinks it’s a good move to show how heartbroken I am about Anna ending our precious engagement.” I let out a bitter scoff.
She didn’t know that the same night I’d left her house, a couple of weeks ago, I’d shown up at Vanessa’s house at one a.m. She wasn’t happy about it, of course, but I didn’t care.
I told her, no room for argument, “I’m done.
I’m going home. I’m sorry.” For the first time in all the years we’d worked together, I saw genuine worry in her eyes.
Vanessa always had something to say—a snarky comment, a biting remark—but that night, she stood silent.
She let me go. She handled everything. The PR side, the excuses, the damage control.
She even helped me find a real estate agent to sell my New York penthouse before we officially ended our contract.
I wasn’t miserable because of my career, and I sure as hell wasn’t heartbroken over Anna.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about Chris Jones.
Jules was all I cared about. Hers and the kids’ happiness—that was it.
And if staying away was what they needed, then that’s exactly what I was doing.
I couldn’t even keep a place in the same city because I knew myself too well.
Too much temptation. Too much risk of breaking every promise I made to let her go.
I needed to fill the silence, but for once in my life, I didn’t have the energy for small talk. I didn’t have the moves, the charm, or whatever else I used to rely on. So, I cut to the only thing that mattered.
“How are the kids?”
“They’re good,” Jules said softly. “They’re on a trip with their dad and grandma.”
“Good, good…” The words came out automatically. But that little pang in my chest? That wasn’t automatic. It was the constant, nagging reminder that I wasn’t their dad. I hated that I wasn’t the one taking them on trips, making memories, or getting to hear their excited little voices every morning.
“They miss you,” she added, almost too quietly.
Why the hell did she have to say that? I clenched my hands together so tightly my knuckles turned white, grounding myself with the pressure.
Because, damn it, I missed them too. So much.
If she walked into my office right now, she’d see that stupid little glitter-covered LEGO robot they gave me, sitting proudly on the shelf behind my desk.
Dead center. Front and fucking center. Like some proud dad clinging to a memory, he had no right to.
I smiled, but it felt more like a wince.
“I miss them too.”
Jules took a deep breath. Then, with a voice so quiet I almost didn’t catch it, she said, “I miss you too.”
My heart shattered all over again. It wasn’t fair.
All I wanted to do was close the gap between us.
To drop to one knee, propose right here, right now, then jump on the first flight to pick up the kids and take them all to some cottage in Ireland.
Somewhere simple and quiet, where we’d wake up every morning to the sound of their laughter and fall asleep every night exhausted from making love.
But I knew better. I’d fucked up too much, and the man I was now… he wasn’t ready for all of that.
I met her eyes. “What do you need, Jules?” It came out a little rougher than I wanted, the sharp edge of old habits creeping in. But that was my default, wasn’t it? Messed up, distant, defensive.
She hesitated, her eyes darting away as if searching for the right words.
“I thought about you today,” she started. “I thought I was going to daydream, but instead… I remembered a real moment. You. Not a dream version of you.” She paused. “I haven’t daydreamed much since we last saw each other.”
“I haven’t had any dreams either,” I admitted quietly. Nights had been black and empty. Working until I almost passed out, waking up to an obnoxiously loud alarm, and repeating. It was better that way. If I had to see her in my dreams, I wouldn’t have made it through the days.
She inched closer. I wanted to close the gap between us, but I couldn’t move.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Jules said softly, her eyes meeting mine. “I just needed to see you.”
Before I could react, she leaned in to kiss me. I wanted to let her. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into me and kiss her until the world melted away. But instead, I drew back, gently gripping her arms to stop her.
“I can’t do this,” I said. “Nothing has changed. I'm clearly not ready to be the guy you and your kids need. And you... You still have a lot to sort out with your ex-husband. And possibly a new career." I smile at that, but it fades quickly. "And every time I have to leave you, it breaks me."