“See you then, Hope.”
I end the call quickly, letting the phone fall beside me.
I can sense he wanted to say more, but whatever it is, he can say it all to my face. If we’re going to have this conversation, he has to look me in the eye and speak honestly.
Because no matter how tonight unfolds, he’ll understand that if he wants another chance with me, there can be no more lying and secrets between us, ever again.
Chapter 37
Kaden
The door swings open just before my knuckles meet the wood. Hope stands there, her silky red hair twisted into a messy bun, loose strands spilling along the sides, framing her beautiful face. She’s wearing a crisp white button-down tucked into high-waisted jeans, the top two buttons of her shirt left undone, just enough to reveal a modest hint of cleavage.
The sight of her nearly steals the air from my lungs.She’s stunning without even trying. And as she stands there, all angel-like in the doorway, it hits me just how much I’ve missed her.
A small, guarded smile lifts the corners of her mouth, and though hurt still lingers beneath the surface, it’s tempered only by the softening of her eyes.
“Hello, Kaden,” she rasps softly. “Thank you for coming. Come in,” she says, stepping aside to let me pass.
I nod silently and step through the door, my words catching in my throat as if they physically cannot release. Once shelocks the door behind us, I follow her to the dining table, my steps slow and weighted. I’m nervous and anxious about this conversation, so much so, I can feel sweat gathering just beneath my collar.
As we enter the kitchen, my attention catches on a detached cabinet door laid flat across the island, its freshly sanded-back wood grain almost obscured bybold brush swipes of warm, earthy colours. Test patches. She’s narrowing down her choice.
She’d mentioned throwing herself into some DIY renovations, and I wonder if this is how she’s been filling her time—if this is what’s helped keep her busy, and perhaps distracted from me. I know it’s what helped me. I’ve buried myself in building and filling customer orders, working so tirelessly that I now have enough stock in my online shop to last for weeks.
The funny thing is, orders have been coming in faster than I expected, so steadily that I’ve started seriously considering turning my hobby into a full-time career. It’s the kind of decision I would’ve loved to talk through with Hope, to hear her thoughts, her feelings about it. But since everything is still up in the air between us, I’m not sure bringing it up with her would be a good idea right now.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asks.
“I’m okay, thanks,” I reply, lowering myself into one of the dining chairs. “To tell you the truth, I think I’m a little too nervous to eat or drink anything right now.”
She nods slowly, and I don’t miss the way she doesn’t offer the usual reassurance, no gentle insistence that I have nothing to be worried about.
Taking the chair across from me, she clasps her hands on the table, her expression unreadable, giving nothing away.
“How have you been?” she asks, her voice soft, yet steady.
“I could’ve been better,” I admit honestly. “But I’m getting by, just trying to take it day by day, I guess. How are you?”
She sighs heavily. “Same. Just been caught up with the renovations, work… Zac,” she says, and the moment she mentions her son’s name, a tight knot forms in my chest. I’ve missed them both, more than I can put into words.
“How is Zac?”
The question makes her lips curl into a proud smile. “He’s been good—great, actually. Ever since he came first in his school project, he’s been riding this kind of high, and I don’t think he’s coming down from it anytime soon.”
My brows shoot up in surprise. “He won the competition?”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you. But...um...,”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I already knew what she was going to say—she was still too mad and hurt to share the good news with me.
“That’s fantastic, Hope. I always knew he’d come out on top. He worked so hard, and I’m thrilled others saw the talent I did when I helped him. You must be so proud.”
She glances down at her clasped hands for a slow beat, then looks back up at me, and that’s when I notice it—the tears welling in her eyes.
“God, I thought I could do this without crying,” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly.
I reach for her hand, but she pulls it back quickly, folding both hands into her lap, out of my reach.
