Chapter 4

FOUR

I could hear the drip of Xavier’s clothing on Vernazza’s cobbled streets all the way back to the three-story house where I was staying with my family. It was one of uncountable, slightly crooked, pastel-colored buildings carved into the rocky cliffs of the Ligurian coast, draped now with the shadows of night, a sopping gargoyle, and my own personal dread.

He was here. Xavier was here.

Wet. Angry. And still probably shell-shocked by my recent disclosure, but more importantly, also still as reeling from our last conversation as I was.

I didn’t know what to make of his insistence that he had not kissed Imogene Douglas. It was so at odds with the scene that had played on repeat in my mind for the last six weeks. I had seen them kiss. I had seen it. Which meant she had kissed him, and then he had kissed her back.

Didn’t it?

True, I ran away almost immediately after seeing her mouth touch his. If he had pushed her away, if I hadn’t been witness.

If he had told her off in his signature, rough Xavier way, I hadn’t heard it.

And knowing Xavier—knowing at that moment, he had been desperate for connection with me , and when he was like that, he wasn’t particularly forgiving to anyone who got in his way—well, part of me was inclined to believe him.

After all, a man wouldn’t fly nearly a thousand miles if he was cheating.

Would he?

The house Matthew and Nina had rented for the family was located about four streets up the hill from the piazza, up the main avenue of Vernazza, then down a much narrower street that ended on the other side of a cliff towering over the tiny village and the sea below. Xavier followed me there like a big wet dog, shoulders hunched while he breathed heavily from the cool night air. When we reached the threshold, I unlocked the door and led Xavier inside after he had removed his shoes on the front stoop.

“I’ll see if I can find some newspaper for those,” I said as I slipped off my heels and padded through the little living room in my bare feet.

“Don’t bother,” Xavier said as he stripped off his socks and tossed them onto the shoes. “They’re ruined now, and I’ve got a change at my pensione . It’s just a block or two from here anyway.”

I didn’t know why it hurt that he had gotten himself a hotel, but for some reason, it cut like a knife. Maybe on some level, I’d wanted him to barge into my bedroom and plant a flag like a conqueror, family and propriety be damned.

I’d wanted him to fight for one small part of me, even if it was just a corner of my bed. My stairwell. Wherever I ended up.

“Would you like some tea?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup.

I still felt rather lightheaded despite not having any champagne at the reception. Not to mention exhausted from being, well, knocked up. A cup of tea and a book sounded like the perfect antidote for the evening. I’d have to settle for just one of them.

“Sure. Green if you have it.”

“We brought some.”

I puttered around quietly as Xavier proceeded to strip off his shirt. I turned just as he was unbuttoning his pants and nearly dropped the kettle.

“What are you doing?

He looked up. “Well, I’m not going to sit around in wet clothes. Is there a dryer in the house?”

I gulped, then nodded. “There—yes, actually. Here, give me those.”

I tried not to notice him, but it was kind of impossible, given his size and the amount of space he took up. Xavier smirked as he peeled off the denim, then handed me his pants along with his soaked T-shirt. His jacket, retrieved from the harbor, had been squeezed out on the walk home and now lay drying over the back of one of the chairs.

I looked away, but not before I caught a glimpse of the way his drenched boxer briefs were clinging to every part of him like wet tissue, and how the serpentine tattoo—an homage to Kiyohime, the serpentine woman who avenged her broken heart—climbed like a vine up his torso and down his left arm, gleaming black and red and gray.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I muttered as I whirled around.

“Something wrong?”

The sly lilt in his voice told me he knew exactly what was wrong. It also told me he thought he could play that to his advantage.

“I’ll just get you a towel,” I said shortly, then darted out of the room before he could respond.

When I came back, features controlled, I thrust a striped beach towel I had swiped from the laundry room at him.

“Here.”

He took it with a cheeky half grin, then tossed it onto the sofa before reaching down and tugging off his boxer briefs. Well, crap. Now I was exquisitely aware that Xavier Parker was standing naked in the middle of the room, seawater glinting where the light danced everywhere across his golden skin, carved muscles, and the tattoo.

And I do mean everywhere .

I wanted to lick off every drop.

Yeah, this baby really wasn’t going to make it easy to be around him.

Was it possible he had gotten bigger in the last few weeks?

“Er, I’ll just, um, pop your clothes in the dryer,” I mumbled.

Xavier chuckled as I swiftly gathered his things and studiously avoided his gaze—or his other parts, for that matter. When I returned, I found (somewhat to my disappointment) that he had wrapped the towel around his waist. He had already fixed us both tea and set our mugs on a side table between two armchairs in the living room. I took mine and curled into the seat, eager to be more than a few feet from him. I caught his telltale scent of soap, fire, and salt, accentuated further by the briny Mediterranean drying on his body. Even in nothing but a towel, he looked so regal in his chair with his straight posture, broad chest, and black hair inky as an oil slick.

It reminded me of who he really was.

Not just a smart-mouthed chef from South London.

A duke, holder of one of the oldest titles in Britain.

And that was why I’d had to leave him.

“I didn’t kiss her, Ces,” he said again after taking a long sip of his tea. “Tell me you believe me.”

I sighed and tucked the edges of my dress around my knees, wishing I’d had the forethought to change into something more comfortable. “I—fine. I guess I can believe that. Even though I saw you.”

I wished I sounded more confident. I wished I were.

“She kissed me,” Xavier pressed again.

“So you say. But even if you did stop her, it wasn’t right away.”

“Because I was stunned by it, like I said.”

“You were surprised?” I snorted. “Xavi, she was all over you from the second she knew you were back. I watched her all summer, plastering herself on you like a corsage wanting to be pinned to your lapel. Just like every other aristocrat in the country, descending like vultures at all those stupid events. She just happened to live next door.”

“It wasn’t like that.” His frown created two strong lines between his brows. I resisted the urge to rub them away with my thumb. “You heard the conversation, babe. You knew I was talking about you . Worried about you and me. I didn’t exactly expect Imogene to make a move.” He shook his head. “But maybe I should have.”

I scoffed. “You think?”

He gave me a long look.

I gave him one back. “Jagger and Elsie filled me in on her little crush on you. And the fact that you were expected to marry her at one point. You didn’t think to tell me about that?”

Xavier opened his mouth as if to argue but then seemed to give up. “Honestly, I didn’t think it mattered. I love you , Ces. How could you have thought I would do something like that to you?”

It didn’t escape me that he spoke in the present. Love, not loved.

But there was no use getting caught up in things like tenses.

“Maybe because it wasn’t just that,” I said honestly. “The whole betrayal wasn’t only her. In a lot of ways, it felt like the whole summer was leading up to that point. The kiss was just my breaking point.”

He looked at me hard. “Explain.”

“What is there to explain that I haven’t a million times already?” I took another sip of tea, if only to calm myself. Just the thought of rehashing this conversation made my blood boil. “From the moment Sofia and I arrived in the UK, literally no one wanted us there.”

“I wanted you there,” Xavier said. “And I was the only one who should have mattered.”

“The papers printed lies about us from the get-go,” I continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “Even took interviews from my turncoat of a mother. Your family, of course, hopped right on board and proceeded to badmouth us to every person within forty square miles. By the time we had to attend the Season events, every rich person in England was looking out for your American chit and child and wondering out loud in public if Sofia even belonged to you.”

“And what was I supposed to do about it?” he demanded. “Did you want me to fight every person in England? Sue every paper out there?” Xavier set his teacup down on the side table with a clatter.

“I wanted you to be on our side !” I blustered. “You acted like none of it mattered, Xavi. You brushed it off, told me to ignore it. I wanted you to tell your stepmother where to shove it, tell Imogene to stop petting you like a pony, and stop punching people just because you were a little jealous. I wanted you to be mad with me instead of at me! I wanted us to be a team, but you left us alone every chance you got!”

His mouth dropped like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “That’s—that’s how you really felt?”

“That’s how I feel ,” I confirmed. “Present tense. And that’s why I had to go. I need to be in New York. I need to be around family.”

He mulled on that for a minute, then leaned forward so his knees almost touched my toes where they peeked from under the hem of my dress. “And what about our family, Ces? What about us?”

“A two-month vacation and some mean rich people do not make a family,” I told him, though it felt like I was lying through my teeth.

Flashes of the three of us in his London apartment skipped through my mind. Xavier making us dinner. Sofia playing in her room. The three of us cuddled on the couch while I read a book, Xavier watched soccer, and Sofia yammered to one of her dolls.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice suddenly weak. “But they just don’t.”

“And being Sofia’s father doesn’t?”

“That takes more than blood too.”

I scooted farther into my chair and looked out the window, searching for some reprieve. Maybe a bit of guidance. Then I caught the lights of the wedding party in the square below us.

“See those people down there?” I said. “The ones who chased us to the dock? That’s family. They’re messy and snarky and have way too many opinions about my life, to be sure. But every one of them is there for each other, no matter what. Why do you think my brother tried to beat you up, or my sisters were so quick to call you names? Because family stands up for one other. Families have each other’s backs. We fight, just like you do, but it’s not when someone personally insults us. It’s because we defend our own.”

“Oh, I am aware of that,” Xavier said dryly, touching the blooming bruise under his left eye. “Your brother has made that very clear.”

“Say what you want about them, but my siblings would never let anyone else call me trash or denigrate me in any way.” I swallowed hard, suddenly realizing the truth. And this time, there was no uncertainty left. “But you did, Xavi. You did, again and again. It wasn’t about Imogene Douglas. It was about everyone in that world. You left us to the wolves and insisted they were only puppies. That ’s why I left. I was tired of being hunted and eaten alive while you stood by and told me each bite was only a scratch.”

Xavier’s blue eyes darted between me and the window several times while his mouth worked silently. But then he stilled. Recognition straightening every part of his body.

“I—I see,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

He looked so forlorn, so immediately heartbroken, that I almost got off my chair and went to him. Pure loneliness emanated from him in waves, and I wanted only to crawl into his lap, accept the shelter of his warm body, and give him the shelter of mine.

But I had to stick to my guns here. Now that I finally knew what was right.

“I hope you know how lucky you are,” he said. “I never had family like that.”

I frowned. “But your mom?—”

“Mum wasn’t a fighter,” he cut me off. “She made it alone, sure. But her own family was ashamed of her, so she shut them out too. Taught me to do the same, I suppose.”

“You fought,” I said. “I know you did. You still do.”

He shrugged. “I probably get that from my dad. Rupert was a fighter, right? Fought with me plenty. But it was only when his own bloody pride was damaged. He didn’t stand up for me either. No one did.” He shook his head. “Fuck. I never knew.”

I bit my lip, gripping the chair to keep from taking his hand. He had everything it took. I knew he did.

But for my own sake and Sofia’s, I couldn’t keep waiting for him to figure out how to be the kind of support we really needed. Not when we already had it out there.

Xavier rubbed a big hand over his face and sighed as he sank back into his chair. “All I’ve ever wanted is for us to be a family, Ces.” His eyes blinked large and blue in the night. “I can learn. I know I can.”

I stood, picking up my teacup to return to the kitchen. “Xavi, it’s not that easy.”

“Would this help?”

I turned and found him following me through the living room. He bent down to retrieve something from his drying jacket pocket. Then he turned to me, somehow managed to keep his towel in place, and sank to one knee all over again, just like he had on the dock.

And this time, he held out a box.

A very small, very square velvet box.

I sucked a sharp breath through my teeth. “Is that?—”

“An engagement ring, yeah?” Xavier smiled shyly. “You want a secret? I’ve been carrying it around all summer in my jacket pocket. Waiting for the right time.” He shook his head with something like regret. “Never seemed to be one, right? Stupid man, I am.”

He opened it to reveal the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’d ever seen.

A simple white gold band framed a cluster of pink diamonds against the black velvet. There had to be at least fifty in all, each tiny and perfect, looking for all the world like a bouquet of English roses. Perfect, pink, and sparkling.

I couldn’t breathe.

I’d anticipated this all summer. Hoped for it. Maybe even in my heart of hearts prayed for it.

I’d never actually imagined what the ring itself would look like. Or how it could be so perfect.

Nor had I imagined it would happen at a time like this.

“So, what do you say, Ces?” Xavier’s deep voice rumbled. His large hands shook where they held the box, the only sign he was nervous at all. “Want to get married? Want to make a family with me for real?”

Lord, in some ways, he knew me so well. But in others, not at all.

“Oh, Xavi,” I breathed, still unable to take my eyes from the gems.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I floated a hand over the ring nestled in its box. Part of me wanted to accept it. See how the pink would shimmer against my fair skin. Hold it out in the light to watch the facets sparkle.

But he wasn’t asking out of love, but guilt. Yes, he had said he loved me, but that was in the middle of a fight. Even over the summer, he’d said it, what, once? Twice?

He was asking out of obligation. And if there was anything I knew about Xavier Parker after this summer, it was that his sense of duty ran deeper than anything else.

Even love.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I said in a voice I barely recognized as my own. “But my answer is no.”

Heartbreak scrawled across his handsome face in harsh, blatant lines like one of Sofia’s preschool drawings. My heart cracked right along with his.

Oh God, what had I just done?

“Your answer—you don’t—” He pushed off his knee and sat back into one of the dining room chairs, then looked up at me with two pools of sadness so deep I thought I might drown in them. “All I want is for you to come back with me, Ces. You don’t want to marry me, well, fine. I’ll deal with that. But please, I’m begging you. Come home .”

“I did go home,” I whispered, though I was unable to help the twin streams of new tears running down my cheeks all over again. “I went back to New York. And that’s where I’m staying. After all, England was only ever supposed to be for the summer, right?”

I waited for him to say no. I waited for him to say again he wanted us to stay permanently. Beg me more, give me reasons to stay, promises of change, tell me he’d fix everything with the press, his family, all of them.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted him to, but I had a feeling if he did…I wouldn’t find the strength to say no again.

For a moment, I thought he might.

But there had been too many moments like this. Times I’d seen the right thing play across his lips like a symphony.

And just like all the others, he remained quiet.

“Does it matter that I love you?” he asked, not without some bitterness. “That I’ll never love anyone the way I love you? Fuck, does any of it matter at all?”

Something inside me cracked as the ring box snapped shut.

Hadn’t I just been dying to hear him say that?

But not like this. Not out of resentment, like it was a favor he was extending and expected to be repaid.

Now it was too late.

“I love you too,” I said honestly as my vision clouded. Oh, God, the tears really were back. “But sometimes love isn’t enough, is it?” I looked down, refusing the urge to stroke my belly, where I knew this little person was growing. “We have more to think about than just ourselves. We have to figure out how to be a family together in another way. I think maybe that is easier when we are apart.”

Xavier gave me a look then that was full of such hunger and yearning, I very nearly broke down. But instead of fighting or snapping or lashing out like he once would have done so easily, he seemed to take several deep breaths, and eventually reached for my hand.

“If that’s really what you think is best.” He shook his head, the damp hair fluttering back and forth. “God knows I can’t figure it the fuck out.”

“I—it is.”

It had to be.

Xavier sighed long and low from the back of his throat, like a lion. “I suppose that’s that.” He stood suddenly, taking his jacket with him. “Can you get my clothes from the dryer? I don’t care if they’re done. I’d rather not stay.”

Numbly, I nodded, then went downstairs to fetch his things. He pulled on his half-dry things while I brought the dishes to the sink. When I came back, he was dressed, already moving to the door to find his wet shoes. Every movement was settled, but sad, like a dog that had just been beaten in a race.

Every inch of me wanted to embrace him. Pull him back to me.

But I’d made my decision.

He stopped at the bottom of the stoop when I walked him outside. “When’s your next scan? I’d like to be there.”

I blinked. “You want to go to the doctor with me?”

He just nodded solemnly. “I’m not missing a thing this time, Ces. Can I come?”

Maybe I should have said no. I could have said the doctor was a safe place for me, and I didn’t need him there.

But I’d already shut him down enough tonight. I couldn’t inflict that sadness in his big eyes anymore.

I nodded. “Two weeks. I’ll send you the information.”

He reached out and took my left hand in his, rubbing a thumb over my knuckles. It lingered over the empty ring finger. “I—I don’t want to get lawyers involved, but I think we should make an agreement. For Sofia. And the little one, when it arrives.” He nodded toward my stomach. “I think moving forward…we should have it all down. In writing. Solid, you know?”

I gulped. It was scary, maybe. But nothing he was saying sounded like a threat. “All—all right.”

He nodded again. “Okay. We’ll talk in two weeks, then.” His half-smile, so forlorn, nearly broke my heart in two.

“‘When pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure,’” I muttered to myself.

“What’s that from, then?”

I jerked, realizing I’d spoken my thought aloud.

Xavier was peering down at me, curiosity blended now with a sad, sweet almost smile. “Who are you now, babe? I know that look.”

I swallowed tightly. Oh, God, this hurt.

But there was no use lying to him. There never had been.

“Anne Elliot,” I said. “She’s the main character in Persuasion .”

“Saying goodbye to her love?” he ventured.

It was meant as a joke, but he had no idea. That was essentially the whole plot of the book—saying goodbye and the torment it caused.

I flushed, blinking hard so I could see. “In a manner of speaking,” I admitted.

Xavier’s half-smile grew even more lopsided. “Does he ever say anything back?”

I sighed. “Xavi…”

“If it helps you, maybe it would help me too.”

I sighed, then finally recalled what was probably the most famous line from Persuasion —a sentence written in a letter when Captain Wentworth confesses how he feels at last.

“He writes to her, yeah. He says, ‘I am half agony, half hope,’” I whispered.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t see Xavier’s face just then. I honestly couldn’t bear it.

He was quiet for a long time.

Then, at last: “Fitting.”

I opened my eyes again, and before I could stop him, he dropped my hand and used his to weave his fingers into my hair, pulling me down for a kiss. His lips as soft and sweet and salty as they had ever been. And just as I started to sink into them, he pulled away.

“What—what was that for?” I wondered as I touched my lips.

A bit of slyness stole into his overall sadness. “Had to sneak a goodbye kiss, didn’t I?”

“I suppose…”

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Xavier said, then turned and left.

And I stood there long after he was gone, feeling that, despite the fact that our words had clearly ended whatever had been between us, nothing was finished at all.

Half agony, half hope, indeed.

I just wasn’t sure which side would win.