And until then, untilforever, I plan to help her not give a damn and just live her life. And I’ll love her all the way.
Chapter Forty-Five
LEXI
Today was better. Totally.
Probably.
Nope. Who the hell am I trying to fool? The only thing that made today better was that Mom wasn’t at work and we went to shop for my own pjs and other essentials. I had a long call with Tessa and basically bawled my eyes out. Nothing helped. Not even Tessa’s dry remarkthat for once I’m the one doing the ditching.Now I’m in freshly washed and still-warm-from-the-dryer fleece pjs and pulling on new sleeping socks too. Everything is soft and cuddly, but nothing is going to distract me from my broken heart.
I choke down my tears. Day five of being torn from Tristan, and there hasn’t even been an email from him.Nothing. My heart isn’t just broken, it’s splintered into a thousand pieces.
I’m a mess. I’m not good company and want to stay in bed, but Mom will only allow me to wallow so much. She is, after all, one to turn that frown upside down and has already popped the popcorn for some Hallmark movie we’re going to watch. As if I needed romance right now. My sleeping cycle is still so messedup, but better to watch some mind-numbing TV than doomscroll my phone for hours.
As I finally scrape my scattered courage together to emerge from the bedroom, the doorbell rings. Mom didn’t say anything about ordering takeout, but I’ll take it. I’m in a stuff-my-face mood, and that isn’t going away anytime soon either.
I wipe my eyes, and as I walk into the living room, Mom calls, “I’ll get it.”
She opens the front door, and snow drifts into the doorway. On cue, a laser of cold slices through the apartment. The weather here is a bad motherfucker and not doing anything for my state of mind.
“Perfect timing,” Mom says. A man’s tall frame fills the door, his face obscured by a fur-trimmed hoodie. Mom wraps her arms around him in a hug, and my heart falters. For a long second, my mind plays with me, making me think it’s Dad. He’s here… Of course it’s Dad—who else would Mom hug so close?
But then he pushes the hoodie back, and his gaze meets mine over the length of the room. My pulse falters, and my stomach drops. “Tristan?” I mutter, convinced this is an optical illusion.
Mom steps away to let him in.
“Babes.”
Time stands still. I want to tell him to not call me that, but in the same breath I want to tell him how much I missed hearing him call me that. Beyond it all, I want to touch him and make sure he’s real. That Tristan Martinelli is actually standing in the doorway of Mom’s small apartment, snow dusting his broad shoulders.
“Come inside,” Mom says as she reaches for her coat and scarf. “I’m going for a drink at Elsie and Joe’s.” She turns to me with a wink and a sly smile. Heat and chills somehow manage to spread over my skin at the same time. “See, sweetheart? It’s all about timing.”
With that, she’s out the door, and Tristan closes it behind her. He drops his bag and stares at me as he shrugs off his thick jacket and toes off his shoes. He’s not ready for this weather either.
“What?” I say, folding my arms over my chest as he hangs his jacket on one of the hooks on the wall. “Why are you here?”
“I—” He takes a step closer but falters. “Lexi, I—” He breaks off again and drags his fingers through his hair, streaking the snowflakes through. “Babes?—”
“What happened? Did Beaumont fire you?”
“No. I left.” He swallows hard, and I blink. His fingers are trembling.
“Left? How did you just leave? What about your project? Your deadline?”
Tristan shrugs. “It can wait. You forgot a few things on Ne’emba Island, and it was important that I brought them to you in person, if you know what I mean.” He licks his bottom lip, trying to disguise the smile that makes my heart go weak. “I brought the charger too.”
I choke on a laugh as I roll my eyes, heat invading my face. “You shouldn’t have.” I wish I had it in me to run up and jump him, forcing him to catch me as I hug him with all my life, but I’m aflutter with fear and hope and a desperation I never knew existed. All I manage is a measly step in his direction. “I left it for you as a reminder of…fun times.”
“Lexi—” he starts again as he takes another step closer. Then he chuckles drily when I remain in my spot. “Not going to make this easy, are you?”
“I don’t understand. What is there to make easy? Ne’emba was a mistake and a fuckup, to say the least.”
“Don’t say that.” He shoves a hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out a clunky fold of white paper. “I also knew I was goingto mess this up, so…” He looks down and then meets my gaze, a flush on his cheeks. “I wrote you a letter.”
“A letter? Why on Earth would you do that?” I eye the paper he’s carefully unfolding, my pulse going wild as I inch forward.
“Because I’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to mess it up.” Something slips from the paper’s fold, and he catches it in his palm, out of view.
