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“You gotta look out for yourself,” she uttered in a low voice. “Men like that run your life if you let them. They take everything and give nothing back.”
Achille gave me plenty. He hadn’t said no to a single demand. He seemed to sense what I needed, even when I didn’t. Like our kiss the other night. The memory of his mouth on mine burned me up. Ever since I’d run out of his bedroom, overwhelmed by my feelings, he’d been distant.
He hadn’t touched me. He’d barely spoken a word to me. Overnight, he’d built a wall between us. Was it because I didn’t offer him my body? Did he think less of me? Was I another obligation tied to a ring?
Maybe Sandy was right. Men like Achille lived in a world where feelings were a liability. His decisions were about control, not about building something tender.
But when I shut my eyes, his hands ghosted my skin. His kiss pressed into my mouth, intoxicating as bourbon laced with brown sugar. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was stupid to hope for more until he showed me that he felt the same.
After I paid the stylist, I stepped out of the salon. Sunlight kissed my face, but it couldn’t warm the icy knot in my belly. I slipped into a cafe tucked away on a side street. A bell jingled as I entered, fresh coffee and pastries swirling into a tempting mist. I ordered a cappuccino and a cannoli. The cashier handed me a flag on a metal stand.
I took it, looking for Becky.
She waved from a corner table, grinning.
My heels clacked as I hurried toward her. “I’m so glad to see you!”
She stood up, hugging me. “Me too, sweetie.”
I teared up as I wrapped my arms around her. We disengaged, and I slid into the seat opposite her.
“How’ve you been? Is that husband of yours behavin’ himself?”
Her smile faltered. “Oh, he’s keeping busy. Traveling. Men and their pursuits. Always a new project on the horizon.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It is,” Becky agreed. “Travis is passionate. About his job, about making things right. He’s in the construction business. He’s involved in big, high-stakes projects that transform skylines.”
The fervor in her voice carried a hint of something akin to what I felt around Achille.
“He’s a good man, deeply cares about his family. But his work is demanding. It requires certain sacrifices, like him being gone half the time.”
“He’s a workaholic?”
Becky nodded, her gaze distant. “It’s not an easy life, being with someone like that. You have to know when to stand your ground and when to support him.”
“I can see that.”
She softened. “How are you holding up? This whole thing with Achille must be a lot.”
I sighed, stirring my coffee. “It’s overwhelmin’.”
She leaned forward. “How’s he handling being a father?”
“He’s adapting. Achille’s got this protective side, especially around Jack.”
“That’s important. My husband grew up in a neighborhood where loyalty means everything. He learned early on how to look out for his own. Sounds like Achille’s the same.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile the man I see with his reputation.”
She scoffed. “Reputations are just stories people tell. The truth is more complex. My husband, for instance, is seen as a tough guy. But to me, he’s Travis. He has his soft spots. He’s human.”
“You’re right,” I mused, tracing the rim of my cup. “Achille has lots of layers to him. To the world, he’s this unstoppable force, but with Jack…and me… he’s different. There’s a gentleness that surprises me.”
“It’s those glimpses of vulnerability that make all the difference.” Becky peeked at her watch. “Sorry, honey. I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be back.” Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood and excused herself.
The weight of her words dug in deeper. Loyalty, strength, and sacrifice—the pillars which had built Achille’s life. I sipped on my coffee, the warmth chasing away the cold. Joining lives with Achille meant being part of a family that valued loyalty. Family was more important to him than anything.
