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"Did you get something?" He leaned forward, looking calm. Though his eyes, Giselle noticed, held a storm behind them.
"Uh, yeah. I got a trip to...somewhere. Chris won a necklace."
He waited for a beat. "The one you're wearing?"
Her heart stopped for a moment. She wrapped her arms around her body, gulped, and said, "Uh, yeah. Is, um, is that a problem?"
He blinked twice, looking pained. "You tell me."
Confused, she reached for her clutch and pulled her phone out, just so she had something to do. Managing a smile, she wondered why fear had gripped her.
She replied, "I don't know. If you're not okay with it, there's no reason for me to keep doing that." Evenshedidn't know what she was saying. All she wanted was for the tension to diffuse.
He stayed silent. She glanced at him once and noticed how hard he was staring at her, accusing her.
"Are you angry?" she asked.
He clenched his jaw. "No."
"You look angry."
He ran a hand through his hair. "You mean a lot to me, Giselle. But this... I'm not okay with this."
"With what?"
"You and him." His voice raised.
Her heart dropped. "What do you want me to do? Leave him?"
He stared at her in reply.
"That's not possible," she said, raising her own voice, feeling like the walls were closing in on her at the thought of being without Chris. "He's my best friend. He's been there for me when no one has. No one understands me the way he does, and I will put no one above him!" She regretted the moment those words left her mouth.
Xavier breathed heavily, burning a hole in her with his gaze, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "I'm here now. I'll be here for you. I don't think you need two men."
She frowned. "That's not fair, Xav."
The silence stretched.
Uncomfortable, she unlocked her phone so she didn't have to engage in conversation with him again, and her brows merged. There was a message from Chris. She read it slowly, the air starting to become toxic with each word.
"Are you texting him?" he asked.
She looked at him with fire in her eyes.
He continued, frowning, "I just told you that it hurts me. And that's what you do? You hurt me more."
She stared at him, then said in a surprisingly calm voice, "Who killed my father?"
All emotions drained from his face. "Wh-what?"
She gulped, clutching her phone tight in her hand. "Who killed my father?"
He stood up. "What are you talking about? Where didthatcome from?"
She stood, too, heated. "I'm waiting for an answer."
"How would I know?" he said, his voice raised.
