Page 62 of The Carver

She went to her cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine and a couple glasses. She set the table with plates, utensils, and water, the vase in the shape of a woman’s ass full of flowers pushed to the side so we could see each other.

I wished she lived at my house, was always there when I got home, was always there whenever I left. But I didn’t ask her because I already knew her answer would be no. It would cause unnecessary strife in a relationship that had only recently become easy.

Well, until the other night.

She drank her wine then looked at me across the table. “You can smoke if you want.”

Her apartment was too small. It would become hazy like a London fog. I grabbed the wineglass and took a drink.

She continued to stare at me, her chin propped on her closed fist.

“I’m sorry I haven’t texted. Just been busy.”

“It’s okay… I get it.”

“It’s not okay. I should have checked on you.”

She sat back against the chair and shifted her gaze elsewhere.

“How’ve you been?”

All she gave was a shrug.

Perhaps it was worse than I realized. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” She’d always been a confident woman who didn’t shy away from eye contact, so I knew something was amiss when she didn’t look at me.

She swallowed, her throat shifting. “I’ve—I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

I assumed.

“I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t scared to death, because I was.”

“That’s okay.”

She seemed to be more forthcoming when I welcomed her uneasiness. “I watched that guy bleed out right next to me…when you stabbed him. It all happened so fast, and then it was over just as fast.” Her eyes continued to focus on the surface of the table. “Does that happen a lot?”

“No.”

Her eyes finally found mine.

“It’s been a while since someone took a shot at me, especially in a public setting.”

Her eyes flicked away again.

“I’m going to be honest. Another reason I haven’t called is because I thought you’d tell me it’s over.”

Her eyes stayed down for a while, like the fear wasn’t ridiculous.

I studied her face, watched her cycle through all the emotions my statement caused.

After a long beat, she spoke. “I was scared. I still am scared…if I’m honest. But I’m not going anywhere.” She finally found the confidence to look me in the eye, with a subtle hint of uncertainty. “A week without you was far more terrifying than what I saw.”

My expression remained hard, but everything inside me went soft. I’d hoped she would stay, but I didn’t expect her to say those beautiful fucking words. Didn’t expect her to punch me in the chest with them. This woman had slipped through my grip countless times, but the chase had finally stopped. She was tethered to me now, the two of us connected by an unbreakable knot, a bond that I’d had with my boys, but never a woman. It meant the fucking world to me to hear that, so much that I almost told her how I felt, even though I knew she wasn’t ready for it. So I said something else. “I can’t promise that won’t happen again, but I can promise that I will never let anything happen to you.”

Her eyes were on mine, vulnerable and emotional, and they seemed to believe me. She was beautiful when she’d shown she wanted me when I entered the apartment, but she was more beautiful now when she was open with me, when she didn’t pretend to want me less every time she wanted me more. “Am I a complete idiot for actually believing that?”

I felt the smile tug at my lips. “No, sweetheart.”

I returned to Adrien’s estate. It was just before midnight when I passed the gates and checked in with his butler. When I looked at the wall where the wedding picture had been, I noticed it was still missing.

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