Chapter 32
Simon
Simon stood perfectly still beside the bed, his heart hammering a heavy, erratic rhythm against his ribs. He watched Audrey swallow the ibuprofen and wrap her hands around the warm ceramic mug.
The morning sun illuminated the exhaustion in her face, the faint smudges of last night’s makeup beneath her eyes.
He braced himself. He fully expected her to set the coffee down, point to the door, and tell him to get out.
He knew the alcohol had lowered her defenses last night, and he was terrified that the sober reality of the morning would bring all the hostility rushing right back.
But just the memory of her asking him to stay—of climbing into that bed, feeling her warmth, and breathing in her familiar scent while she slept—had been enough to calm his racing heart for a few precious hours.
He knew he had missed her every single day, but he only realized exactly how much he missed her when he finally held her in his arms again last night.
Audrey took a slow sip of the coffee, her dark eyes lifting to meet his over the rim of the mug.
"Sit down, Simon," she said quietly.
It wasn't a demand, but an invitation. Simon let out a shallow breath and carefully lowered himself onto the very edge of the mattress, keeping a respectful distance. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together to keep them from shaking.
"How is your head?" he asked, his voice low and incredibly gentle.
"It hurts," Audrey admitted, staring down into her coffee. "But not as much as the rest of it."
She was quiet for a long moment. Simon didn't push. He just sat there, willing to wait as long as she needed.
"I need to understand the buildup," Audrey finally said, her voice steady but laced with a heavy, unavoidable pain.
"You told me about the warehouse, and the hotel room.
But I need to know about the weeks before that.
Did you flirt with her at the office? Were you exchanging texts with her while you were sitting on the couch with Lily and me?
How did it escalate right under my nose without me noticing a thing? "
Simon swallowed hard, the shame rising hot and thick in his throat. He hated the man in her questions, but he had promised her the entire truth, no matter how ugly it was.
"It was gradual," Simon rasped, looking down at his hands.
"At first, it was just her being overly enthusiastic.
She would praise my ideas during pitch meetings.
Then she started finding reasons to linger after the rest of the team left the conference room.
She would ask for my advice on her career, telling me how much she looked up to me. "
Simon hesitated, the sheer ugliness of his ego threatening to choke him. He stopped talking, his eyes dropping to the floor.
"Keep going, Simon," Audrey pushed gently, refusing to let him hide.
"Then the texts started," Simon confessed, forcing the words out.
"She would message me late in the evening to confirm a vendor detail for the gala.
But then she would add a comment at the end.
Telling me I looked tired that day, or that I was carrying too much of the firm on my shoulders.
It felt... validating. I started replying to the personal comments.
I crossed the professional boundary while I was sitting right there in our living room. "
"Show them to me," Audrey said.
Simon froze. He looked up, his chest tightening with a sudden, cold panic. "What?"
"The text messages," Audrey repeated, setting her mug on the nightstand. She held her hand out toward him, her palm open. "I want to read them. I want to see the exact words you were exchanging with her while you were at home with us."
Simon felt the blood drain entirely from his face. "Rey, I can't."
Audrey's extended hand dropped. The fragile truce in her eyes instantly shattered, replaced by a dark, heavy wall of distrust. "You won't let me see them? You're still protecting her?"
"No! No, I swear to God, that isn't it," Simon pleaded, leaning forward desperately, though he didn't dare reach out to touch her. "I deleted them, Audrey. I deleted the entire thread."
Audrey stared at him, her expression hardening into a familiar, painful skepticism. "You deleted them."
"I did," Simon swore, his voice cracking with the desperate need to make her believe him.
"I deleted them the day after you met her.
After that gala when you met Emily for the first time and we fought in the car on the way home.
Seeing you looking at her, seeing how close the lie had gotten to you.
.. I panicked. I felt so sick, Rey. I just wanted to erase the evidence.
I deleted her number, I erased the messages, and I tried to pretend none of it ever happened.
I am not hiding them to protect her. I am so deeply ashamed of them. "
"It's just one more convenient missing piece," Audrey whispered, looking away from him, her voice thick with disappointment. "One more thing I just have to take your word for."
"I know how it looks," Simon said, the devastation clawing at his throat.
He had given her every ugly piece of the truth, but the missing texts were a massive, glaring hole in his timeline.
"I would give anything to put my phone in your hand right now and prove to you that there is nothing else.
I know my word means nothing right now. But I promise you, Audrey, there are no more secrets. "
Audrey pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.
She looked small, swallowed up by his oversized gray t-shirt.
The silence in the bedroom was heavy, fraught with the fresh damage of his admission.
Simon closed his eyes, preparing himself to be asked to leave. He had ruined the morning.
But then, Audrey let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"When I was sitting in that booth last night," Audrey said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "My brain was spinning. I felt so completely overwhelmed. Miranda was right there. I could have asked her to take me home."
Simon opened his eyes, holding his breath as he looked at her.
Audrey turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto his. The heavy distrust was still there, but beneath it was something far more complicated, and far more hopeful.
"I called you," Audrey admitted, the vulnerability of the confession costing her clearly. "Even after everything I learned in therapy... when my walls were down, and I was hurting... I wanted you to be the one to come get me. I wanted you to be there."
Simon’s heart stopped.
That tiny, fragile spark of hope he had been desperately searching for finally ignited in his chest. It wasn't forgiveness yet.
It wasn't a promise that the ninety days would end with her staying.
But it was proof that underneath the wreckage, underneath the profound pain he had caused, she still instinctively looked for him in the dark.
"I will always come get you," Simon promised, his voice rough with unshed tears, holding her gaze with fierce, unyielding devotion. "No matter what happens between us, Rey. If you call, I will be there."
Audrey held his gaze for a long moment, the quiet weight of his promise hanging in the morning air.
"You should go, Simon," she said gently. "Lily is probably already awake at your parents' house, and she's going to be wondering where you are."
"Okay," Simon nodded, standing up immediately. He didn't push his luck. He didn't try to kiss her forehead or ask for more time. He walked toward the bedroom door, stopping just at the threshold to look back at her one last time.
"Thank you," Simon said quietly. "For letting me stay last night."
Audrey offered a small, tired nod.
Simon walked down the stairs and out the front door. As he started his car in the driveway, the guilt over the deleted texts still burned in his gut, but for the first time in over two months, he actually felt like he could breathe.