And here we go. But this time, I decide not to revert to our usual dynamic. “Tessa, I’m sorry about your marriage. I’m sorry you’re angry, lost, and forced to reinvent yourself. I’m sorry I’m finally happy at the same time you lost your happiness. I should have told you.”
She blinks a few times, tears brimming around her eyes. “I guess the cold-bitch behavior runs deep. I hate how empty and silent the house is.”
“Let yourself grieve. I’m sure you will bounce back. Every ending is a new beginning.”
She reaches over and gives me an awkward hug. “I’m sorry I sprang the Dad thing on you like that.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think my brain is willing to accept your words. It will take some processing.”
We sit in silence for a moment before she checksher watch. “We should head back. Gina had a few things to discuss with us.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here for a moment.”
She frowns. “Are you sure?”
I nod, and she leaves before I pull a notebook from my bag.
And a story about a bear who kept forgetting to put himself first is born.
I push the door to my apartment, forgetting it doesn’t fully open because of the boxes. The air smells of Thai food and Xander’s aftershave.
In a short time, his scent, his things, his presence have blended into my space, making it more home than it’s been for years.
Xander texted he was heading home about an hour ago, but I’m not met with his off-key humming or the financial podcast he listens to.
But the smell of takeout? He must be here.
I slip out of my shoes and peek from behind the boxes. And I see them.
Xander is sprawled on the sofa, one arm resting along the back, the other holding a book open across his lap.
My neighbor and proud cat sitter, Pavel, is tuckedinto his side, eyes wide and fixed on the page. Both cats are draped across the armrest and Xander’s legs like royalty.
No one sees me, and I pause, taking in the picture. Who even is this man? The question keeps popping into my head.
I grin, but a lump clogs my throat.
The domesticity of the scene does things to my heart. The way Xander reads? Like every word matters. Like he’s savoring it. His voice is soft, deep, and rich with intention.
And when Pavel laughs—one of those unchecked, childlike giggles—I watch a smile bloom on Xander’s face, unfiltered.
This man—this reckless, annoying, entirely-too-charming man—has been letting me see him in pieces. And here’s another one. Gentle. Grounded. Devoted.
I step forward, and the floor creaks beneath me. Four heads swivel toward me. Two humans, two felines.
“Hi.” I smile at them.
Pavel’s eyes light up. “Cora! Xander fixed my bike!” He leaps off the couch and races toward me. “And then he got me a new one! Wanna see?”
I glance at Xander, who sits there, a king of nonchalance. “A new bike?”
“Yeah!” Pavel beams. “Mine was super broken, andmy dad said he’d fix it, but he never did, and Xander did. And then he said I should have one that doesn’t try to murder me on every turn, so he got this one. Look.” He points to a bike in the corner.
Jesus, I hope he got him a security system with that. This is a decent neighborhood, but that bike would get stolen tonight.
Pavel squirms, casting his gaze down. “Can I leave it here? My dad might try to sell it.” That is as likely as a theft.
“Of course,” I say to Pavel, brushing his hair back. “You can keep it here.”
