Chapter 22
Cornelia
I’m sitting on a bed with my laptop. Not mine of course; I’m on Anthony’s.
He doesn’t have the same thing as me about not liking outside clothes in his bed or dirty things.
He constantly lies in bed in his outside clothes, sometimes even with shoes.
I once even saw him eat an entire meal in bed, including toast with Marmite.
How he didn’t feel the crumbs at night, I don’t know.
I’m in his bed because sometimes a girl needs to lie in bed without changing clothes.
I could be in any other room, but Anthony is in Germany for business, so I’m not bothering, and he has the biggest bedroom.
When my parents divorced and London stopped being their primary residence, he took the master bedroom.
Someone knocks on the door. “Miss Monroe, may I come in?” Nadia asks.
Nadia is one of the maids in my house. Normally, I don’t even bother learning their names because, somehow, whenever my mother is in town, she either scares them off or fires them for any little mistake.
So, they don’t tend to last. The maid who lasted the longest was a guy named Marcelo—he made it six months before Anthony fired him after finding out he was, let’s just say, paying extra attention to “cleaning” my mother’s pipes.
I just think my mother doesn’t like other women.
Her only female friend is Annabelle’s mother, and I’m pretty sure she shares her disdain for women too.
And they are also more like frenemies than actual friends.
But now that I think Anthony has essentially banned her from ever coming back to London—or at least to the house—I’m starting to get to know the maid staff.
“You may,” I answer.
She opens the door, her blonde hair pinned back in a bun and wearing her black and grey uniform, but doesn’t step inside. “You have a visitor waiting for you downstairs.”
“Okay, tell them I’ll be right down,” I say, confused.
I’m not expecting anyone, nor am I dressed for company.
I’m wearing a grey sweat set from Ami, the white System Tank from Tankair, and Loro Piana Baby Cashmere socks in cream, my Jessica McCormack ring on my right ring finger, and Wladimir the Cat ring from Boucheron in yellow gold on my left middle finger, along with its matching necklace and earrings.
They’re covered in champagne diamonds that are to die for.
While people may say the jewellery I’m wearing indicates I’m going out or meeting someone, I believe diamonds are meant for daily use.
I like wearing them around the house. It’s actually one of my favourite places to wear them.
Also, I’m wearing no makeup, and I have a pimple patch on my cheek. I’d be in my pyjamas by now if I didn’t have some schoolwork to do.
I’m about to ask Nadia who it is, but before I can, she turns and walks away.
I know it has to be someone I know—Thomas and Rufus, whichever one is working tonight, wouldn’t let just anyone enter the house. They’re our security.
I think maybe it’s Annabelle. She usually doesn’t bother being announced and just walks in like it’s her own house, but maybe Nadia mentioned I was in Anthony’s room, and she didn’t feel comfortable enough to barge in here.
I exit my brother’s room, but before I do, I flick the lights on and off three times, then head downstairs. I don’t bother putting on shoes—if you show up unannounced at my house, I’m greeting you shoeless.
I reach the last few steps and see him standing in the foyer, dressed in a suit, like he just came from his office.
He hasn’t seen me yet—his back is turned and he’s hunched slightly, petting Cat, who is standing beside him—but I recognise him immediately.
The way you instinctively recognise your family or the people you’re closest to, I could pick him out from any angle.
“Nate,” I say.
He straightens up and turns around. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying not to sound unwelcoming. It’s not that I mind him being here, but it’s weird for him to show up unannounced on a weeknight and this late.
Also, we haven’t spoken much since the night at West’s club.
The day after the fight, he sent me a message asking if I got home okay and apologised for kissing me, to which I replied with a simple yes and told him not to worry about it.
After that, we didn’t communicate, nor have we been alone together in a room.
Part of it is my fault—I’ve been avoiding him a little, maybe a lot, since everything happened.
But two weekends ago, we were locked in the same house, a big one, I would say.
Still, if he truly wanted to talk to me, he could have tracked me down.
“Can we talk?” Nate asks as Cat nuzzles his leg, trying to get his attention back.
When Cat doesn’t succeed, he turns and walks towards the direction of the mews house, hopefully staying there.
Cat and Dog aren’t allowed inside, except in the mews house, where they have their own room, but Cat doesn’t seem to care. At least he’s never entered my room.
“Yes,” I nod, gesturing for him to follow me as I head up the stairs.
There is a living room on the ground floor, but I prefer the one on the first floor.
We pass my mother’s room—thankfully, the door is closed—and make it to the living room. A few windows are open, letting in a soft draft that stirs the curtains. We stop in the middle, facing each other.
An awkward silence hangs in the air. After a few seconds, I ask him, “What do you want to talk about?” breaking the silence.
I’ve been afraid of this conversation, imagining how it would go a million times in my mind. I don’t like change, and the thought of how things might shift between us after this talk terrifies me. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
He lunges at me and kisses me. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise me—it isn’t the first time, after all—but this time, alcohol isn’t involved.
At least, I don’t think it is. I don’t smell it on his breath, and unlike before, my mind isn’t clouded by anything.
I know this isn’t right, so I don’t kiss him back.
Nate notices, takes a step back, and looks at me. His shoulders drop as he sighs and walks towards the door. But halfway there, he mutters something that sounds like “fuck it,” and turns back around.
He comes back to the same spot in front of me, takes a deep breath, and says, “I love you.”
Hearing it shocks me, even though I had already drawn that conclusion. But then, it was a theory, something I could easily brush off as a misunderstanding. Now, it’s a fact, something undeniable, something I can’t hide from.
I don’t know what to say, so I tell him the truth. “I love you too.”
He looks at me, his gaze filled with gloom. “But not the way I do.”
It’s also true.
I love him the way I love Laurie, Annabelle, Lucian, and West. It’s a deep, unwavering kind of love where I’d do anything for them—even give my life if I had to—but it’s not romantic. Not like with TJ.
I shake my head. “If it’s any consolation, I wish I would.” I really do—it would make life so much easier. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Nate says softly.
“I feel like I should.” He’s in front of me, sad, and I’m the person responsible for it. It’s hard not to feel guilty.
He gives me a little smile, but I know it’s forced. “It’s not your fault; you don’t choose who you love.”
It’s one of the biggest truths in life, something that’s been haunting me lately. How easy it would be if I could will myself to love Nate, or anyone who isn’t TJ. But I can’t. I’m still completely and utterly in love with TJ, even after everything.
It reminds me of something TJ used to say.
He used to say that if I were an animal, I’d be a swan—elegant, regal, otherworldly.
That’s how he describes them. I used to think he was right and wore it like a badge of honour, but not for the same reason.
I did because swans are known to mate for life.
They only have one partner. One love of their life.
I’m worried that is my case too and… I don’t want it to be.
I don’t want to be a swan anymore.
I look at Nate with teary eyes. “Please don’t hate me.”
I’ve already lost TJ; I couldn’t bear losing him, too.
He gently wipes a tear from my cheek. “I could never, even if I tried.”
I smile at him. He leans closer and kisses me. But there’s something different about this kiss—unlike the others, this one has a sense of finality.
“Sorry,” he says. “I had to… one last time.”
He kisses me again, this time on the forehead, then turns around and walks away.