And then she walks away, leaving me with no idea what to do now and a lot more questions than before.
Chapter Seventeen
Christopher
Something's changed. I'm not sure what exactly, but Michelle acts differently after her conversation with Celeste. I asked my sister what they talked about, but she refused to tell me.
Michelle barely spoke to me this morning, even though after dinner with my sister, she told me how much she liked Celeste and Abigail and that she's glad we came there. She even thanked me for the trip.
I wanted to ask her if she was still mad at me, to apologize for my actions, for not telling her everything myself when I had a chance, but I couldn't. I didn't want to do it in front of the driver. I know if I want to have a proper conversation with her, it must be one on one.
And now we’ve both gone to our hotel rooms to pack. I finished in ten minutes but waited another half an hour to give Michelle more time. And now I'm standing at the door of her suite, knocking.
She opens the door right away as if she was waiting for me. She's still dressed in the same clothes, and her luggage is next to the door, closed and prepared for our flight, even though it's not until tonight.
"May I come in?" I ask carefully, not sure if I am the one she’s been waiting for. Maybe she ordered room service or asked for a maid to come.
"Yes," she says and steps back, letting me in.
Michelle takes a seat on a sofa, and I sit on a chair, letting her have her space.
"I'm so sorry," I begin, looking into her beautiful eyes. My heart hurts with the realization that she's sad because of me. "I would never want to hurt you on purpose, Michelle."
It's hard for me to speak right now, but I remind myself that you can’t control everything in life. Sometimes our feelings are much more complicated and do not fit any logical framework. We just have to accept them.
"I know," she whispers, surprisingly, to me.
"You do?"
She nods. "I know you wanted to protect me. I was upset that you didn't want to talk to me first."
"I tried at first, but you don't even like it when I mentioned your fiancé's name. You were always so protective of your personal life. I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid to hurt you. I thought you'd hate me."
She smiles. "That sounds like me."
I smile back, relieved that we're finally talking like we used to.
"Do you accept my apology?" I ask after a long pause.
"I do," she whispers, "and I'm sorry too."
"For what?"
"I lied to you when I said that it means nothing to me, that it was just sex." It's evident she's nervous speaking about this. "It doesn't. I was mad at you so much because"—she exhales—"because I like you, too."
I get up from my chair and take a seat next to her, taking her gently by the shoulders. I can't believe she just said what she said.
"Michelle, I don't like you," I confess, pulling my face closer to hers, looking deeply into her eyes. "I'm in love with you."
She opens her mouth in surprise, probably wanting to say something else, but I pull her to me and press my lips to hers.
As we kiss slowly, tenderly, I brush my fingers over her back, drowning in these feelings that I’ve kept inside of me for so long, and now they're finally out. Her body relaxes in my arms, and she starts stroking my hair, gently fingering the strands, palming my head.
And then she moves her hands lower to my shirt and starts unbuckling the bottoms, shoving her hands inside the fabric and stoking my naked skin. I help her take off her sweater, and she gives me a joyful smile.
She's wearing lingerie this time. A coral lace bra that makes her full breasts look even bigger. I reach out to touch them, and she moans.
We do not rush, taking our time together, exploring each other’s bodies as if for the first time, slowly undressing each other, kissing all the way.