The absence of our usual banter is so loud. I hatethat with our relationship, he lost that part of himself. Or perhaps he wants to respect my grief.
I hate how familiar and strange this encounter is.
I’m tired of hating and grieving.
Xander starts the engine. “Where should I take you?”
The raindrops slide down the windshield glass, the life outside the car loud and hurried. I should go to the bistro where we’re holding the wake, but I need the silence and safety of this car.
Not because I grew to like the car.
Because, despite all the pain, the driver gives me more comfort than anyone else ever could.
“Could you just drive for a while?”
“Of course.”
And he does. I slouch in the seat, letting my thoughts wander. We drive in silence. I sob for a moment, then I close my eyes, then I watch the traffic.
All the while, Xander drives me around without a word. And I feel safe, sad, and spent. Until the silence feels suffocating.
“Say something,” I snap, shocking myself.
Xander whips his head to me, bewildered.
“Distract me,” I add.
He swirls the car into a parking garage and finds a spot on an abandoned level. I don’t even know where we are, or how long we have driven.
Xander taps his fingers on the wheel. “Lottie moved to Paris to learn to paint. Dad is pissed.”
I chuckle, sad I won’t know these little tidbits anymore. “I’m sure the experience will change her.”
“I’m not sure if she’ll learn how to paint, but she’s definitely having fun with her art teacher.” He shrugs, and I chuckle.
“Well, that’s an invaluable experience.”
“I don’t know, she is my little sister; I would prefer her to join a convent.”
“That’s discriminatory.”
“Not really. For all I care, all women can join a convent.”
He groans, looking away, the tension sneaking back between us. On some pitiful, pathetic level, I’m glad he doesn’t want another woman.
Jesus. How are we ever going to find closure?
“Thank you for returning Pitt and Clooney.” I play with the hem of my skirt, the weight between us growing.
“Fuck, Cora, I’m sorry I kept them.”
“Thank God they were not in our prenup.” I smile.
“Yeah.” He chuckles and looks at me.
Really looks at me—the way he used to. With that same raw hunger, the fierce admiration that always made my knees weak. Like I matter. Like he wants me.
Something sparks between us—electric and familiar.It jolts through me—unwanted, but unstoppable. That reckless, consuming pull that never asked permission. The kind we never could resist. Not even when I tried.
