8
Somehow, in the space of just a few minutes, or maybe the last hour, something had changed.
He still wasn’t the Xavier I had met five years ago in a bar. That man had still been in his twenties. His uniform had been jeans, thick black boots, and a concert tee stained with some sort of kitchen concoction. Instead of a sleek crop, his shoulder-length black hair, coupled with the smattering of tattoos down his left forearm, had made him look more like a warrior than an aspiring young chef.
That man, too, had been more carefree. Still buttoned-up, guarded, but vulnerable just the same, with the slight gangliness of a man who hadn’t quite hit his prime, with the final flashes of youthful naivety.
I remembered that naivety in my own face. It disappeared when I had to raise a child on my own.
A child. My daughter. His daughter.
Tell him. Tell him.
The thoughts repeated with every clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. But still I couldn’t, although now it was for an entirely different reason. Now my biggest fear wasn’t what would happen if he discovered Sofia. It was what he would do when that happened. Whether or not he would love her. Care for her. Treat her well.
As selfish as it was, I was terrified that once he did find out, he wouldn’t look at me the same way. I wouldn’t be the girl he’d once loved anymore. I wouldn’t be his Ces, a beauty. Someone he wanted. Even if it was just for the evening.
And it had been so, so long since I had felt this wanted.
Xavier wrapped his big arm around me, hugging me into his side as the carriage made its way through the park. Ahead, the gold-lit buildings of midtown peeked over the silhouetted trees, but the city’s heart still seemed far away. Xavier’s body was warm and solid. So much larger than mine. A true shelter.
“I’ve never ridden in a horse-drawn carriage,” he remarked, almost more to himself than to me. “Makes me feel a bit like Prince Charming.” When he looked down, that almost smile made another appearance. “What a laugh, right?”
I might have smiled back if I hadn’t been so busy fighting back terror. Instead, I cleared my throat a little too loudly. “Actually, I haven’t either.”
“Nice, though, isn’t it?”
I nodded, unsure where this was going. I wasn’t really in the best state of mind for small talk, and Xavier wasn’t particularly good at that anyway.
“You know,” he said. “I didn’t say it before. But I really am sorry, Ces, about the way things ended, back then. I should have come back to tell you face-to-face what was happening. With Lucy. With all of it.”
I swallowed. I couldn’t deny how hurt I had been by his sudden goodbye. But now that I knew the story behind it, all the anger had dissipated.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “No, really, it is. I was hurt, yes. But I understand. You—you were going through a lot. I can’t blame you for not putting a meaningless fling ahead of real-life issues.”
A pair of warm fingers slipped under my chin, turning my face up toward his.
God, he was beautiful. The passing streetlamps lit the sharp planes of his face like a statue, casting shadows at all the right angles. His intensity was otherworldly. I couldn’t look away if I wanted.
“You were never a meaningless fling,” he said solemnly. “I’m sorry if you ever felt that way.”
His eyes dropped again to my mouth, and my breath caught in my belly. We both knew what was going to happen. He was going to kiss me. And what’s more, I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it more than I had wanted anything or anyone in years.
I closed my eyes.
Felt his breath on my cheek.
And then my face smashed directly into his as the carriage pulled to a stop.
“Gah!”
Xavier pulled me back upright and glared at the driver. “Nice stop.”
The driver just pulled off his top hat and waved it toward the end of the block, beyond which the lights of Fifty-Seventh Street clearly shone. “We’re here. I can’t leave the park, though.”
I followed his gesture. The hallmark green roof of The Plaza peeked over the trees from across The Pond.
Xavier gave me a look that was half cross, half embarrassed, then tossed a bill at the driver before hopping out himself. Before I knew it, he was lifting me out after him as easily as he had helped me in.