Page 101 of His To Unravel
I don’t argue. I snuggle against him, letting him hold me close. His hands roam absently, tracing slow patterns along my back and arms.
The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I feel his lips press against my neck, soft and fleeting, as if he can’t help himself.
Finally, his voice breaks the quiet. “Did you mean it?” he asks, his tone raw.
I tilt my head to look at him. “Mean what?”
His gaze meets mine, searching, vulnerable. “You said you wouldn’t leave. Did you mean it?”
The pain in his eyes steals my breath. I cup his face, my thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as I whisper, “Unless you ask me to, I won’t leave.”
He exhales shakily. “Okay,” he says, his voice barely audible.
He leans in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that is both tender and consuming. His hands tighten around me, pulling me impossibly closer as if sealing the promise between us.
Before the moment can deepen, the sharp chime of the doorbell reverberates through the apartment.
I scramble off Nathaniel’s lap while he groans, dragging a hand over his face.
“Who the hell is ringing the doorbell this early?” he mutters, his tone thick with irritation.
I straighten my clothes and mumble, “We should probably answer it.”
He doesn’t reply, just runs a hand through his hair and strides ahead of me toward the door, still muttering under his breath. I trail behind him, a sense of unease coiling in my chest.
When he opens it, I catch sight of Renée Caldwell. Her smile is warm and polite, but her sharp blue eyes scan me with an interest I can’t quite place.
“Good morning, Olivia,” she greets brightly, then looks past me to Nathaniel. “May I come in?”
Nathaniel steps forward, his posture stiff. “Of course, Mother.” He gestures for her to enter.
Renée steps inside, holding a stack of neatly tied boxes. “I thought I’d bring breakfast,” she explains, turning to me with a smile. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all,” I reply quickly, stepping aside as she walks toward the kitchen. Nathaniel’s demeanor doesn’t soften as he follows her, and I can’t help but notice the distance between them, like there is an invisible wall neither dares to breach.
As she places the boxes on the counter, Nathaniel remarks, “I didn’t hear the intercom buzz.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she replies breezily, untying the ribbons. “The concierge knows me. Why wouldn’t they let me up?”
Renée opens the boxes, revealing an assortment of pastries and sandwiches that makes my stomach rumble in spite of myself. “I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I brought a variety,” she says. “There are plain croissants, almond, pain au chocolat, and a few savory things, smoked salmon tartines and egg-and-cheese brioche rolls.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. The gesture reminds me of Nathaniel and his attentiveness. I glance at him as he begins pulling plates out of the cupboard, his movements almost mechanical.
He sets a plate in front of me first, placing one sweet and one savory pastry on it before glancing my way to ensure I am satisfied. Then, he turns to Renée. “Would you like coffee, Mother?”
She pauses, visibly surprised by the offer, before nodding. “Yes, thank you. Black.”
I watch Nathaniel as he prepares drinks for both of us, his focus shifting back to me every few moments. His hand brushes mine as he sets the cup down, his focus entirely on my comfort.
As we sit at the dining table, I notice how Renée observes him too as he fusses over me, refilling my water glass without asking, adjusting my plate to make sure it is perfectly positioned. His hand occasionally finds its way to my arm or shoulder, grounding himself through touch.
I realize this isn’t about me. His mother’s presence seems to be giving him anxiety, and his attentiveness to me is his way of coping.
Renée’s curious expression only deepens as she watches her son, as if she’s never seen this side of him before.
“There’s plenty of room back home, you know,” Renée remarks suddenly, her tone light but pointed. “I don’t understand why you insist on staying here on your own, Nathaniel.”
I glance at him, and he stiffens beside me. “Your room is still just as you left it. The house feels so empty with just your father and me.”
