He puts the car in park but doesn't turn off the engine—a detail that catches my attention. Usually, he'd come up, at least for a while. We'd make dinner or order in, maybe watch a movie, eventually falling into bed together in that easy rhythm we've established over these past months.
"You're not coming up?" I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
Something flickers across his face—not reluctance exactly, but careful consideration. "Not tonight," he says, leaning across to brush his lips against mine in a gentle kiss. "I think someone else needs to talk to you."
Before I can question him, he nods toward my building's entrance. I follow his gaze and feel my heart stutter in my chest. Alexander stands on the steps, hands in his pockets, his tall figure unmistakable even from this distance.
"Did you know he'd be here?" I ask, turning back to Tristan.
"He texted me," Tristan admits. "Asked if I thought you would be willing to talk to him. I didn't answer, but..." He shrugs. "He's here anyway."
I squeeze his hand, suddenly nervous. "And you're okay with that? With me talking to him?"
Tristan's eyes meet mine, steady and sure. "I meant what I said earlier. I love you, Camille. That means I want what's best for you, even if it's complicated." His gaze shifts back to Alexander before returning to me. "Just remember what you're worth. Don't settle for anything less than what you deserve."
With one last kiss—this one deeper, almost possessive—Tristan releases my hand. I climb out of the car, clutching the little elephant as I approach the steps where Alexander waits.
He straightens when he sees me, his expression an unusual blend of nerves and determination. He's still in a suit, though he's loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar—small concessions to comfort that somehow make him look more human, less like the untouchable Alexander Kingsley I first met.
"Hi," he says, a surprisingly simple greeting from a man who usually speaks in carefully crafted sentences.
"Hi." I stop a few feet from him, suddenly aware of my windblown hair and casual dress. "What are you doing here?"
He glances at Tristan's departing car, his jaw tightening slightly before he returns his gaze to me. "I needed to see you. To finish what I started saying yesterday."
I nod toward my door. "Do you want to come up?"
"Please."
As we walk inside, I set the elephant on the entryway table and set my purse beside it, buying a few seconds to gather my composure.
When I turn, Alexander stands in the middle of my living room, looking both out of place and strangely fitting in at the same time. The contradiction of it—of him—makes my head spin.
"Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?" I offer, falling back on social niceties to delay whatever's coming.
He shakes his head. "I'm fine, thank you."
We stare at each other for a long moment, the air between us charged with memories and possibilities. Finally, he speaks.
"I meant everything I said yesterday," he begins, his voice lower, rougher than his usual polished tones. "I pushed you away because I was scared. I've spent my whole life avoiding anything that could make me vulnerable—relationships, attachments, anything I couldn't control. And then you came along and..." He runs a hand through his hair, mussing the perfect style. "You terrified me, Camille."
The admission catches me off guard. Alexander, terrified? The man who commands every room he enters, who makes billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat?
"I don't understand," I say, taking a small step toward him.
"You made me feel things I'd spent years convincing myself I didn't need." His eyes find mine, startlingly open. "And when it got too intense, I did what I always do—I shut it down. Pushed you away. Told myself it was for the best."
"But now?" I prompt, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Now I'm done letting fear control me." He moves closer, stopping just short of touching distance. "I'm in this, Camille. All of it. The baby. You. Even..." he hesitates, his jaw working as he forces out the next words, "even sharing you with Julian and Tristan, if that's what it takes."
I blink, shocked by his words. "You'd accept that? Them?"
"Accept might be a strong word," he admits. "But I'm willing to try. To figure it out. Because the alternative is losing you completely, and I've already tried that. It was..." he pauses, searching for the right word, "unbearable."
The raw honesty in his voice, in his eyes, makes my throat tight. This is a different Alexander than the one who walked away months ago—still proud, still intense, but so much more real.
"It won't be easy," I warn, needing him to understand. "Julian and Tristan are important to me. They've been there for me when you weren't."
