Chapter 8

EIGHT

S omehow, 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.

“All right?” he asked as he set me on the ground.

I nodded as the driver left us standing there at the edge of the park. Xavier was still holding my waist, large hands splayed around my hips even after the clip-clop of the horse had faded into the trees.

“You’re so small,” he murmured. “My hands almost touch, even with this coat you’ve got on.”

I gulped. Even through the layers, I could feel the warmth of his fingers. Wanted more of them. All over me.

Lord, how had I gotten here tonight?

Tell him .

“Xavi,” I whispered.

The right side of his mouth twitched with what I thought was pleasure. “Mmm?”

“What are we doing?”

The Plaza wasn’t a castle, and Xavier wasn’t a prince. But right now, he was making me feel like a princess being escorted to her tower.

He pushed a stray lock of hair from my face. “Is it unclear?”

I bit my lip. “No. But I want to hear you say it anyway.”

And I did. I wanted him to open up. I wanted to know he was feeling all the things I was. Confusion. Yearning. Frustration.

Sudden, unexpected desire.

Xavier smirked. “Well, if I’m being quite honest, I was hoping you’d continue the night in my suite. In my bed, preferably. Though I’ll settle for a nightcap to start.”

He traced his thumb over the curve of my bottom lip. As if mirroring the action, his tongue slipped out and traced the edge of his own lip. God, I wanted to bite it.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” he murmured. “Still just as exquisite as ever. Perfect.”

Guilt dropped in my stomach. “Xavier, I’m really not?—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted gently—or as gently as someone like him could. “Right now, to me, you are.”

He took my hand, then carefully turned it palm up and pressed his lips to its center. Such a seemingly innocent gesture. But I shivered anyway, and my thighs squeezed together.

Tell him. You have to tell him now.

“Xavi,” I started again.

“My God, Ces, don’t .”

I blinked at his sudden vitriol. “Don’t what?” I asked, just as sharply.

Lord, the man was as mercurial as a thermometer.

“Don’t say it,” he retorted. “Whatever it was you were about to say to ruin the night. ‘I’m really not that kind of girl.’ ‘I’m not sure we should do this.’ Blah, blah, blah. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.”

My jaw didn’t drop this time. Maybe in some odd way, I was growing accustomed to his sudden outbursts. But that didn’t mean they didn’t make me angry.

“Excuse me?” I demanded. “You don’t know what I was about to say. Maybe I was going to say yes. Maybe I was going to ask you to keep saying all these nice things to me.”

Maybe I was going to tell you you have a daughter.

“You don’t know ,” I finished emphatically.

He took a deep breath as he looked up at the sky. Then exhaled long and low before turning back to me.

“Then how’s this?” he asked with slightly less bite. “I can’t think of anything I want more than to have you, Francesca Zola, alone, naked, and willing, in my bed. It might have been five years since I last saw you, but I haven’t forgotten a single second of those four weeks. And now you’re here, and I’m here, and I literally cannot think of a single fucking thing that could be more important than stripping your clothes off and worshipping you until the sun rises.”

By the time he was done speaking, his voice had dropped to a low growl. Once more, he brushed his thumb over my lips, his gaze following, searing across my skin.

“Fireworks,” he whispered, and the word echoed through my very soul. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I couldn’t. Every part of my body ached for him, right on the street. Every cell set alight by his tender touch. My lower lip trembled. I didn’t understand it until now what it meant to want something—some one —so much I wanted to cry.

“Look.” His hand slipped down my arm to take mine again. “If all you want is to sit upstairs and drink subpar tea and talk for another few hours, I’ll take that too. I just don’t want to miss out on you , Ces. It feels like the restaurants, the business, everything brought me here. Just for this night. This moment. It was all leading me back to you.”

I’d wished for his thoughts, and by God, now I had them. Every overwhelming one.

“So.” He stood up fully, his height demanding a response. “Do you really have to go?”

I swallowed thickly. But I didn’t pull my hand away.

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”