Chapter 27 #3
I shook my head slowly, the question hitting closer to home than I wanted to admit.
“No. It’s not pathetic.”
I held his gaze.
“You just wanted your mother to love you. That’s the most basic thing a child wants. There’s nothing pathetic about feeling that, Cassian.”
His eyes stayed on mine, soft and knowing.
“You’re not pathetic either.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I didn’t say I was.”
“Exactly. I’m agreeing with you.”
A small, gentle smile touched his lips.
I shook my head and reached for another hot dog.
“My conversation with my mother went well, if you were wondering.”
His smile turned sheepish.
“I know. She called me.”
I paused mid-bite, then continued, shaking my head.
“I really don’t like you two talking.”
He nudged my shoulder playfully.
“Jealous?”
I scoffed around my mouthful.
“Arrogant much?”
He straightened on the bench.
“I’ll have you know I’m quite a catch. I’ve been getting marriage proposals, too.”
I turned to look at him, my eyebrows climbing.
“Marriage proposals?”
And then he proceeded to tell me everything.
The firing of Cassandra. Her breakdown. Michael Hartley’s arrival. The absurd marriage proposal.
The merger.
By the end, the playfulness had drained from his face. He turned to me, serious now, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that pinned me in place.
“Alessia.”
His voice was low, intense.
“I need you to know that nothing—nothing—ever happened between me and Cassandra. The very thought repulses me. I never gave her a reason to think otherwise. I never hinted at anything. I never led her on. That night I brought her home… I just wanted to get home. She was drunk. My phone was dead. I couldn’t find hers anywhere.
I didn’t know where she lived, and I couldn’t leave her there. ”
He leaned forward slightly, willing me to understand.
“Trust me. I wasn’t lying when I said I never thought of her like that. Never even looked at her like that.”
His eyes searched mine.
“I only ever thought about you like that. Even when I was making mistakes. Even when I was being an idiot. It’s always been just you.”
His gaze held mine, desperate for belief.
“Please believe me.”
When I’d woken up in that hospital room, I’d constructed a version of Cassian in my mind. Selfish. Neglectful. A man who didn’t give two shits about me.
Every word he’d said afterward—every protest, every plea—had bounced off that construction like rain against stone.
I hadn’t believed him.
His words had meant nothing.
But that was then.
The last few months had rewritten everything. Every observation, every interaction, every quiet moment like this one had layered over the old narrative, softening its edges.
This man wasn’t lying.
I believed him.
I took the last bite of my hot dog, chewed slowly, and swallowed.
Then I met his anxious, waiting gaze.
“Okay.”
Cassian froze.
“Okay?”
I stood, nodding as I tossed the wrappers into a nearby bin.
“Yeah. Okay. I believe you.”
I started walking toward my car, and after a beat, I heard his footsteps fall into pace behind me.
He caught up, slightly breathless. “You do?”
I glanced back at him, one eyebrow raised.
“You don’t want me to believe you?”
He shook his head so fast I worried for his neck. “No, that’s not—I do. I just didn’t think you’d—” He gestured vaguely. “That fast. I didn’t think you’d do it that fast.”
I stopped walking and turned to face him fully.
“What, did you have another speech prepared?”
Silence.
He went very still. His gaze darted left, then right, before settling somewhere over my shoulder. I crossed my arms.
“You did have a speech prepared.”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
The words were muffled, directed at the pavement.
A smile broke across my face, completely unstoppable.
“You really are something, Cassian.”
I shook my head and turned, continuing toward my car. His footsteps quickened. He reached the driver’s-side door just ahead of me and pulled it open with a flourish.
“I hope it’s a good something,” he said, his voice soft, hopeful.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
He smiled. That soft, unguarded smile that transformed his whole face. Then he stepped forward. His hands lifted, reaching for my face, and I instinctively leaned back.
“What are you doing?”
He blinked. His hands dropped to his sides like they’d been burned.
“Uh. Nothing.”
“Cassian.”
He sighed, a long exhale of resignation.
“I was going to kiss your forehead.”
I stared at him, startled.
The last time he’d done that—in my apartment, after the fever, after the tears, after everything—I’d let him. Because it had been a heightened situation. He’d taken care of me, cooked for me, broken down in front of me. Emotions had been running so high they’d flooded every normal boundary.
But today was different.
“It was a one-time thing,” I said. “Things between us are good right now. Civil. Let’s not ruin that. Okay?”
He looked down at the pavement, then at his shoes, at anything but me. The silence stretched.
“Cassian. I need to hear if you understand.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
They were calm, accepting, with just a flicker of something softer underneath.
“I understand.”
I softened, offering him a small smile.
“Good.”
I pulled the door closed and started the engine.
Through the open window, I added, “Bye, Cassian.”
He leaned down, his forearms resting on the window frame, his face close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
“See you tomorrow,” he said softly. His gaze traced over my features, lingering, memorizing.
“You look beautiful.”
I didn’t respond. I just put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, watching him in my rearview mirror. He stood there, hands in his pockets, growing smaller as I drove away.
Tomorrow was D-day. My team was ready. We’d planned for every possible disaster.
We just hadn’t planned for the right one.