Page 75 of Confusing Cade
“You’re right.”
“I’ve got the bill. Get out of here. Don’t overthink it... just... just go.”
I bolted from the bar, the door slamming behind me with a sharp crack that mirrored the chaos erupting in my chest. I slid into my car, fingers fumbling with the keys, the engine roaring to life as I floored the accelerator toward the Promenade. The streets blurred past in a haze of palm trees and luxury sedans, the warm Florida air whipping through the open window, carrying the faint salty tang of the ocean.
It did nothing to calm the storm inside me.
Every red light felt like a cruel delay, every honk from impatient drivers amplifying the tension coiling tighter in my gut. I gripped the wheel until my knuckles whitened, my breath coming in shallow bursts. With every mile closing the distance, doubt clawed at me.What if he doesn’t want me there? What if showing up ruins the moment?
The event was in full swing when I arrived, and a gleaming mosaic of cars jammed the lot. The crowd was a sea of Palm Beach’s elite, their polished faces and designer suits a glittering barrier, their laughter and champagne flutes clinking like mocking chimes. I pushed through, the press of bodiessuffocating, silk dresses brushing against my arms, cologne mixing with the scent of fresh-cut flowers from the decorations.
“Sorry, excuse me,” I muttered, weaving past shoulders and dodging elbows, my heart hammering with every step. Whispers followed me, along with curious glances and a few raised eyebrows. It felt as if they could sense the desperation radiating off me. One woman in a tailored business suit shot me a disapproving glare, her lips pursing as I accidentally bumped her arm and spilled a drop of her drink.
“Watch it,” she hissed, but I didn't stop, couldn't stop. The stage loomed ahead. Spotlights cut through the late afternoon haze, and the murmur of the crowd grew louder, a rising tide that threatened to swallow my resolve.What if I turn back now? The thought flashed like a warning, but my feet kept moving, propelled by the ache that had festered since I'd left his office.
I reached the edge of the podium just as the invocation began, the speaker's solemn words washing over the assembly like a benediction I didn't deserve. Cade stood there, center stage, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his tailored jacket, his face more haunted than I’d ever seen. Lines etched deeper around his eyes, his jaw tight with unspoken grief. He looked smaller somehow, diminished in the glare of the lights, as if the triumph of this day had hollowed him out instead of filling him with pride.
He looked so vulnerable, so utterly alone amid the sea of admirers, a man who'd built an empire but lost the one thing that mattered. I'd walked away to protect myself, to guard against the pain he'd inflicted with his accusations, but seeing him now, stripped bare in front of all these people, I felt the pull of him like gravity, the love I’d tried to bury rising up inside of me, fierce and unyielding. My feelings hadn’t faded, not even a little.
Then he spoke, his voice low and tinged with grief as it carried over the microphone, cracking just enough to betray the man beneath the mogul. “I’m sorry Bella Moretti couldn’t be here. I’d planned to honor her and her father for everything they did for this project. I—”
The words hung in the air, a knife to my heart, laced with regret that mirrored my own. He paused, his hand gripping the podium tighter, as if steadying himself against the admission. The crowd shifted, a murmur rippling through them, and in that suspended moment, time slowed. Their expectant faces blurred. Tension coiled in my chest, a vise squeezing tighter, the fear of rejection warring with the need to bridge this chasm before it swallowed us both.
“I’m here!”
My shout rang out, slicing through the crowd’s murmur like a thunderclap, raw and unfiltered. Heads turned, eyes wide with shock, a ripple of whispers spreading alongside gasps, pointed fingers, and phone cameras aimed in my direction.
“What?” someone muttered nearby, their voice laced with scandalized curiosity. “Is that her? The Moretti girl?”
Ignoring the stares boring into me, the heat rising in my cheeks, I surged forward, my heart lodged in my throat, pounding so hard I thought it might burst. The stage steps loomed like a mountain, my legs shaking with each climb, the wood creaking under my heels as if protesting my intrusion. Whispers grew louder, a buzzing hive around me. “Who is she?” “This is insane.”
I blocked it out, my focus narrowing to Cade, to the way his body tensed at the sound of my voice.What if he turns me away?
“I’m here, Cade,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, though it trembled on the edges as I reached the top of the stage, my heels unsteady on the wood. My heart hammered, a wilddrumbeat echoing the chaos inside me, the fear of rejection clashing with the pull that had drawn me here, despite every scar he’d left.
His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world fell away. The crowd’s murmurs, the flashing cameras, and the sprawling Promenade blurred into nothingness, leaving us in a suspended silence, the air crackling between us with unspoken regrets. In that instant, I felt the fragility of us, and the harsh reality of the way one wrong word could shatter everything I’d tried to rebuild.
“Bella,” he said, his voice breaking over my name like a dam giving way, raw with weeks of pent-up emotion. His hands flexed at his sides, as if aching to reach out, but held back by the same uncertainty gnawing at me. “You came.”
“I did.” The words slipped out softly, laden with everything unsaid: the nights I’d replayed his betrayal, the hollow ache of his absence, the stubborn hope that refused to die even after he’d called me a whore and shut me out.
“I... I love you. I love you so damn much.”
His confession hit like a wave, rough and desperate, his eyes glistening as they searched mine. It wasn’t the polished Cade Weston anymore. This was Cade laid bare, vulnerable in a way that tugged at my resolve, making my hands tremble with the urge to touch him, even as the wounds he’d inflicted screamed for caution. I’d spent weeks convincing myself I could let Cade go, that I could rebuild my life without him, barricading my heart behind walls of hurt and self-preservation. But hearing those words, seeing the raw truth in his eyes shattered the last bits of every defense I’d built. Tears blurred my vision, hot and unbidden, as the full weight of my love surged back, undeniable and overwhelming. How could I have thought I could walk away from this? From him?
Never again.
“I love you too,” I said, my voice thick with tears, cracking under the swell of emotion. “I never stopped, Cade. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you again.”
We collided in a hug, his arms wrapping around me like a lifeline in a storm, as if he feared I'd slip away again into the shadows of our broken trust. His warmth enveloped me, a familiar shield against the world's chill, his scent—sandalwood and salt air—stirring memories of stolen nights and whispered promises that had once felt unbreakable. The steady beat of his heart against mine synced with my own frantic rhythm, grounding me in this moment, this reality. It was home, the one place I’d always belonged, where the fragments of my shattered life fit back together, not perfectly, but with a raw, enduring strength. Here we were, holding on tighter than ever, our grip a defiant vow that love like ours could weather the worst and emerge unbroken.
The crowd erupted, their cheers drowning out the doubts that had haunted me for weeks. Applause thundered, flashes from cameras popping like fireworks, but it all faded to a distant roar as I clung to him, the world narrowing to the circle of his embrace. A local news reporter, seizing the moment with wide-eyed glee, leaned into her microphone, her voice bright with excitement and a hint of awe. “In an unexpected twist, Bella Moretti has arrived, turning what was meant to be a celebration of architecture into a heartfelt reunion at the Palm Beach Promenade.”
Cade pulled back enough to cradle my face in his hands, his calloused thumbs gently brushing away the tears streaking my cheeks, each stroke a silent apology for the pain he'd caused. His eyes held me captive, reflecting the depth of my own longing, the ache I'd carried like a secret wound. In them, I saw not only regret, but a profound vulnerability, the kind that stripped awayhis armor and laid bare the man who'd fought his way back to me.
“Bella, I screwed up,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, each word laced with the weight of his remorse. “I let you down, and I’ll spend every day making it right. You're my everything, and I won't lose you again.”
My heart swelled, a rush of warmth flooding my body. In that instant, the regrets that had plagued me melted away, replaced by joy so pure it trembled on the edge of overwhelming.
