Page 71 of Cara
“X, you forgot the parking pass for the?—”
I jerk my head towards the door, where Bo stands frozen, his eyes bulging as if he’s encountered a ghost.Shit.
“So-Sophie?—”
I ignore him as I leap from the window, landing on the air conditioning unit before hitting the cold, hard earth,sprintingtoward the broken gate.
“Sophie!” Bo bellows, his familiar voice overwhelmed with urgency. Gasping, my head spins as my focus shifts to the guards who are quickly trying to understand the commotion. Panic seizes me as a man dashes in my direction, drawing a pistol that could end it all for me.
Right here, right now.
Steps away from my husband.
“Over there!”
From the house’s back entrance, Bo is racing down the steps of the terrace. “Don’t shoot!Don’t you fucking shoot!”
I slip under the gate, muffled cries escaping my throat as I race through the woods to my vehicle. I suppress the pain I’ve kept at bay until reaching the car, flinging the door wide open. I don’t buckle my seatbelt. I don’t check my surroundings. I barely manage to close the door before backing up, tires screeching against the mud as Bo slithers out of the same gate I broke through, waving his arms for me to stop.
I punch the gas and merge onto the main road, struggling to stay composed. I keep blinking, pushing tears to roll down my cheeks so I can see the road ahead. My hands strike the steering wheel. “You stupid, stupid woman!”
Why did I think I could go back?
Why did I think he wouldn’t have tried to move on?
He told me to find someone, to live my life. Of course, he would too.
My tires screech loudly enough to rouse the entire neighborhood as I fail to stop the car from careening onto the sidewalk. With the ignition still running, I leap out of the rental, storming into the front entrance of the motel I bought, just in case Xavier wasn’t home.
I discard the receptionist’s greeting, taking three steps at a time, convinced I'm being followed.
I'msoused to running. It’s second nature now.
I plunge my key into the door and swing it open wide, diving for my belongings. Unzipping my worn pack, I scoop up what little I brought and dump the contents back into the bag. I haul it all over my shoulder, snatch my keys off the mattress, and turn toward the door.
I freeze instantly, finding Xavier Marcello standing under the threshold.
Sophie
Everything stills.
The chiming clock in the lobby, the flickering light nestled above the staircase outside my door, the static of the television in the next room. It all fades away, erasing anything and everything but the man across from me.
My deepest self, what I’m made of, swells to unimaginable gravities. I’m here and beyond. Separated from my body, fragilely within and without, stepping blindly into a homecoming that was never supposed to be in the cards for us.
All these years I spent lying up at night trying to conjure him out of thin air, I always imagined I was dreaming up how beautiful he was, distance naturally exaggerating the truth. Only now, with him just out of reach, do I realize how well I memorized him.
He’sjustas I remember.
His striking face. His smooth, unblemished olive complexion, marred only by a few scars that softly gleam under the blinking light. More important than anything, his eyes are the same. Endless emeralds, inviting me to lose myself in their depths.
I slowly scan the length of him, valuing each aspect: from the broadness of his shoulders to his trim waist, a powerful physique draped in the remnants of a sculpted three-piece suit that’s missing its jacket. A classic black ensemble, right down to the vest. If he was wearing a tie, it’s now gone, and three buttons on his shirt are unfastened.
I linger on the exposed skin, burdened by a vision of us in bed, my face nestled into that warm space.
I know every inch of him… and then I don’t.
Xavier’s chest batters down, fighting to catch his breath.
