Page 80 of Xavier

Nineteen

Her

"You can't go in there!" I hear our receptionist yell and I look up to see Xavier storm into my office. I wave her off just as he slams the door closed.

"Don't,” he says, slamming his hands down on the side of my desk. "Don't you dare fucking disappear on me."

The breath catches in my throat as I see his eyes staring back at me, his eyes as dark as I’ve ever seen them. "Xave-..."

He stops me before I can say anything else.

"No. Do not get up out of my bed after making love to me all day and just fucking leave. Do not do that to me."

He continues to stare at me, dead center in the eyes. I stare back, and it takes a moment, but something flickers in the depths of his pupils, and I realize, it's fear. It seems like anger, but it's fear. And I put it there.

I get up from behind my desk and put a hand on his forearm. He doesn't move but I can feel the muscle tremble under my fingertips. And it feels like it’s emitting the same ache that I hold inside me.

"Xavier," I say, softly. He doesn’t say anything and his chest heaves with deep breaths. "Xavier," I say again and this time he drops his shoulders, pushing up from the desk and stands up straight, looking down at me. "I didn't just leave..." I start to say.

"Well, you weren't fucking there when I got up,” he interrupts.

"Wait. Let me finish. I mean, I didn't disappear. I... I wouldn't do that..." He gives me a look that tears at me. There’s so much hurt in him. “Again." I add, not that it matters. "I left you a note."

"You didn't!"

I take a deep breath and hope he mirrors it, but he doesn’t.

"I did," I say, as calmly as I can. "I left you a note in the kitchen."

His brow crinkles and then he sighs.

"Well... I haven't been in my kitchen for over a week."

"But don’t you walk past it to get to the elevator. That’s why I left it there.”

"Yeah, but, I don't look IN it.”

"Well, look IN it the next time you're home,” I smile softly, trying to break the tension. “There's a note saying I had a meeting I couldn't miss and I would call you tonight."

He sits down on the loveseat, sinking deep into it, rubbing his palms roughly up and down his face and then grabs at his own hair.

"Fuck! Malynda. This is fucked up. I'm so fucked up."

"I'm sorry," I say. Scared to get too close, to see him this raw.

"It's okay,” he waves a hand, dismissing my apology. “You left a note."

"No...” I wince, his frustration twisting in my gut like a red-hot dagger. “I mean. For... the other time I left. For fucking you up."

He sighs and shakes his head, then rests it on his fist, tilting it to the side to look at me. "You need to tell me what happened, Malynda. I need to understand. I can’t keep going on like this."

It's my turn to shake my head. "No. Not yet. Just... please. Not yet."

“But if it’s something I did, I need to know. I need to know what it was that made you disappear, that tore us apart.”

“It wasn’t you. I promise. You never did a thing wrong.”

“Then what was it? Why couldn’t you tell me? And why can’t you tell me now?!”