EVANGELINE
Hands trembling, I try again to punch in the code on Alaric’s door.
On the third failed attempt, a pathetic whimper escapes me. I slump, unsure that I have the energy to try again, but mercifully, the door swings open.
“God, I missed you.” He pulls me over the threshold and folds me into a hug.
I’m numb as I limply loop my arms around him and inhale deeply, hoping that his familiar sent and warm embrace will take the edge off.
Burying my face in his chest, I whisper, “That was awful.”
The media event. Sitting beside him, pretending he’s nothing more than my boss. Luca’s comments. Being forced not to react, then to just go our separate ways—each carrying on as if we weren’t moments from setting our lives on fire.
I’m still reeling, and I haven’t even begun to process the potential fallout.
This afternoon, when Alaric entered the cafeteria while I was working at a table in the corner, he greeted the culinary team and made his rounds to the employees enjoying their lunch like he always does. But when he passed me, he only skimmed the tips of his fingers along the tabletop. That was the closest we came to interacting all afternoon. He didn’t even look my way.
“It really was,” he acknowledges, rubbing my back. “I’m so, so sorry, angel.”
I believe him. He’s hurting, too. But that doesn’t take away my pain.
“What do you need?” He angles back, peering down at me.
I blow out a long breath, really considering the question. “Carbs,” I whisper. “A hot bath. The night we had planned, honestly. Knowing I was coming home to you was what kept me going all day.”
He hugs me tighter, kissing the top of my head. “It won’t always be this hard.”
I revel in the reassurance, soaking in the comfort he bestows.
It won’t always be this hard.
Maybe it’s foolish after what went down today, but I can’t help but feel like what we’re doing is worth it.
The door to the bathroom creaks open and Alaric steps in. I’ve been in the tub for so long that I’ve had to add hot water twice. I could spend another hour in here. I’m just now starting to feel like my shoulders aren’t glued to my ears.
I peek over the edge of the tub and track his movements.
He strides into the room, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it. He undoes his button and fly, then steps out of his pants.
“Dinner’s done. I’ve got it warming in the oven. Scoot forward,” he instructs, tipping his chin my way.
Gladly.
I sit up and shimmy toward the middle of the tub.
I can’t help but ogle him as he steps out of his boxer briefs and continues my way.
He catches me looking and smirks. “Like what you see?” There’s a flirtatious hint to his tone, but it lacks any true playfulness.
“Always,” I tell him, offering a soft smile.
Neither one of us is okay, but we survived this hellacious day. And for at least one more night, we can pretend that what we’re doing isn’t bound to blow up in our faces.
That was my biggest takeaway from the media event.
We’re too far gone with this relationship to come out unscathed. Someone is going to get hurt. In fact, there’s a good chance we’ll both get hurt with the way things are going. It’s only a matter of time before our relationship is exposed. Maybe it would be better if we came forward on our own terms.
But would he even want that?
