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“Unbelievable,” she murmured.
“Emma... I just want to talk to you. Can we talk? Can I try to explain?”
The sound of his voice still sent reverberations through her stomach. Despite all her best intentions to remain distant and cold, the sound of his voice melted away most of her anger. As she struggled with her feelings, he took that as his opening.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, his deep baritone like honey in her ears. Why did even his voice have this effect on her? Why couldn’t she just shut off her feelings for him? “I just wanted you to know that. I’m sorry.” That was a start, she thought. “I should’ve told you, but God. This is impossible on the phone. Can I see you?”
Emma glanced down at her flannel PJs. “Uh, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m on your doorstep. If you want me to go, I will. Just say the word.”
In a rush, Emma flew to her living room window and peeked through the curtains. Xavier took a step back and waved up at her. Of course he knew where she lived, she thought. He’d searched through all her Nost account information. She felt a renewed surge of anger. How dare he?
“I don’t know. Seems like you already know so much about me. You’re a stranger, so why would I invite you up?” She watched him on the sidewalk. He looked dejected, in his windbreaker and jeans, his perfectly coifed dark hair seeming to absorb the streetlamp light. He was so tall and imposing in person, and even looking down at him from the third floor, she could see the breadth of his shoulders, see how his big palm dwarfed the cell phone in his hand.
“Emma, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I swear. Ask me anything.”
“Tell me one thing nobody knows about you.”
Xavier began to pace on the sidewalk. “What do you mean?”
“A secret. Tell me that, and I’ll let you up.” She watched him fidget. “Make it a good one.”
Xavier bit his lip and let out a long sigh. “Fine.” He let out a long breath. “My mom was bipolar. She was institutionalized, too, for a bit when I was young. Only my dad knew about that. I never told anyone. Not even Sasha.”
Emma felt blindsided by the sudden revelation. His mother had been bipolar? She realized they had more in common than he thought. Her father suffered from severe depression all his life...and nearly killed himself over it.
“Because of Mom’s illness...well, let’s just say she had a hard time being faithful to my dad. Not that that stopped him from loving her until the day she died.”
“Oh, Xavier,” she said, her heart breaking for him. She knew what kind of damage could be wrought between two people who tried to love each other despite their biggest obstacles. Her parents had failed, as her mom made the hard choice to leave her dad when he stopped seeking treatment for his depression.
Xavier glanced up, a pleading look on his face. “Now, will you let me in? Please? It’s starting to rain.”
Emma glanced at the sidewalk near him and saw it was suddenly dotted with raindrops. He spread his free arm wide.
“Please, Emma. I just want to talk.”
Emma considered the request and felt like she couldn’t turn him away. Despite feeling betrayed, she still wanted to know more about the man. She couldn’t help herself.
She left the window and punched the buzzer, opening the door downstairs. Emma listened to his heavy footsteps on the stairs and then suddenly he was standing at her front door. She’d forgotten at that very moment she was wearing her least sexy pajamas until she looked down. No matter, she thought. Tonight, I’m not getting naked. Not this time. Not before I get some answers.
Xavier swooped in for a hug but Emma stopped him with her hand.
“You said you wanted to talk,” she said, proud of herself for holding him at bay. “That’s what we’re going to do.”
Surprised, Xavier took a step away from her and nodded as he slipped into her living room. “You’re right,” he agreed. “We should talk.”
Emma crossed her arms over her flannel pajama top. “I’m listening.”
Xavier sat down on her small leather love seat. “I screwed up, Emma. I know I did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. What can I do to make it up to you?”
Emma sat down on the small blue chair adjacent to the couch. She didn’t trust herself to sit next to him. He already felt too big for her small living room, his long legs nearly bumping against her glass coffee table.
“Tell me about your childhood.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” She could see how he took on a defensive stance, his shoulders tensing. He was a walking vault, she thought, a locked door.
