Alessia watched me carefully as I exhaled and set the cup back down.
“You don’t have to drink it,” she added softly.
I nodded. Then, without another word, I picked it up again, walked over to the kitchen and dropped it into the trash can. The coffee sloshed against the sides before settling at the bottom, dark and untouched.
Alessia winced. “That was kind of brutal.”
“What’s brutal,” Kelsey cut in, following me into the kitchen, “is that Nathan had the audacity to send it in the first place.” She crossed her arms, looking as unimpressed as ever. “He screwed up, and no amount of overpriced coffee is going to fix it.”
Alessia sighed, shaking her head, but didn’t argue. I appreciated that she wasn’t pushing me to forgive him, but I could still sense her lingering sympathy for Nathan.
It didn’t matter.
I wasn’t confused anymore.
I straightened, brushing imaginary lint from my leggings, and made my way to the front door. I ignored their questioning stares as I lifted up the box, gripping it tightly before opening the door.
Sure enough, Nathan was standing near his car, hands in his pockets, his face a mixture of exhaustion and hope when he saw me. My stomach twisted painfully at the sight of him—at how uncharacteristically disheveled he looked. The dark circles under his eyes, at the slight stubble on his jaw. This wasn’t the polished, put-together CEO the world saw. This was just Nathan.
The man I loved. The man who broke my heart.
“Elise—” He started, but I didn’t let him finish.
I walked straight up to him and, with every ounce of composure I had, dropped the box at his feet. The stuffedcupcake, the jewelry, the countless trinkets and memories he’d given me over the course of our relationship.
He inhaled sharply. “Please, just give me a chance to explain.”
I turned before he could think to say more, heading back inside as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Elise,” he called after me, his voice rough with desperation. “Please, don’t do this. Just talk to me.”
I froze, my hand pressed against the cool wood of the door. My chest heaved once, twice, before I slowly turned back to him.
“One minute,” I said finally, my voice steady even though my heart wasn’t. “That’s all you get.”
Nathan’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he stepped closer cautiously, like he was afraid I might vanish if he moved too fast. “Did you… did you like them?” His voice cracked. “The songs, the gifts. I just wanted to remind you how much you mean to me.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Having half your roster show up on my doorstep singing love ballads? It’s every girl’s dream.” My throat tightened, but I forced myself to keep going. “And the jewelry? Nathan, you could buy out Harry Winston and it wouldn’t make a difference.”
His brows knit together, pain etched into his face. “I thought—”
“That’s the problem.” My voice sharpened. “You thought you could fix this with money, with grand gestures. But you can’t buy your way back into my heart. Not when what’s broken between us isn’t about what you can give me, but what you took away.” The words hung heavy between us. His lips parted, like he had something to say, some defense or plea ready on his tongue, but for once, Nathan Edge, the man who could talk circles around anyone, had nothing. “Your minute’s up,” I whispered.
Then I turned, walked back inside, and shut the door, the finality of it echoing in my bones.
I barely registered the way my friends watched me, their faces laced with quiet concern, before I walked past them and straight up to my room.
I curled into bed, the soft hum of my ceiling fan filling the silence before the memory hit.
I stretched my arms over my head, sinking deeper into the pile of blankets and pillows spread across Nathan’s living room floor. The soft flicker of the fireplace cast a golden light over the space. Outside, the city hummed quietly in the distance, but in here, everything felt still, wrapped in the warmth of low lamplight and the scent of his cologne. It was one of those rare, perfect nights that were calm, unhurried.
I turned my head slightly, peeking away from the fireplace to look at Nathan out of the corner of my eye. It was still weird seeing him like this—t-shirt rolled up, grey sweatpants and bare feet. Not a suit or tie in sight.
Nathan caught me staring. “Something on my face?”
“Just wondering if this is real or if I’ve entered an alternate reality where you actually know how to relax,” I teased.
He huffed a small laugh, reaching for the picnic basket. “I can relax.”
