She lifted her gaze to his. She could. She’d always put her faith in him.
Another knock sounded on the outside door.
“Go inside and sit down. I’ll get this,” he said.
She nodded and stepped inside her suite, shutting the door, pressing her cheek against the panel, and straining for any sound outside.
A few muffled words accompanied the opening of the main entry. Then the outer door shut.
A thud shook the panel.
She bounced back. Had he realized she was eavesdropping?
“Can you open this please?” he asked.
She pulled open the door and stood back.
In his arms, he carried a massive tray with a coffee carafe, two mugs and saucers, and two large, covered dinner plates stacked one on top of the other. He set the spread on the coffee table.
Her mouth watered. Her stomach rumbled. But she didn’t move an inch.
He sat on the couch, poured two black coffees, and turned toward her. “Aren’t you hungry?”
She stood straight and still. Christopher always knew what she needed before she did. She wanted to hate that about him, but once again, she could only be grateful. Her plan fell apart, and she’d been foolish to imagine having the upper hand. He knew her too well. Still.
He lifted the cover off plates on the tray.
In an instant, the buttery, cinnamon-y, sugary smell of French toast filled the room.
She leaped across the room. Settling cross-legged on the ground, she dove into her food with a knife and fork, spearing a huge bite and raising it to her mouth. She moaned. The chef hadn’t changed the recipe, using Hawaiian-style bread cut into thick slices. Then, she reached for the coffee, gulping the rich flavor. She hadn’t had decent coffee in several days. Her attempt at instant hot beverages had been pathetic and stomach-churning. The best she managed was room temperature, and the instant granules mostly mixed in. She returned to her French toast, her second favorite dish.
As she savored her bites, she couldn’t stop her brain from whirring. All her favorites lived here. Another reason to never leave. She included him in the list, not that he’d ever believe her apology, and she wasn’t sure how she would start. She had never changed her phone or email. He could have reached out to her. She didn’t hide. He always waxed on and on about her stubbornness. He had some too. He wasn’t always Mr. Nice Guy. But this was pretty good of him.
“Okay. Let’s talk,” he said.
She gulped down her bite and slurped her coffee. She had nothing to lose. And perhaps she could gain everything. She nodded and topped up her coffee.
* * *
Christopher sipped his coffee, willing himself to slow. He’d lose his tenuous grip on the higher ledge if he moved too fast. Or she’d pull him down. Both had happened before.
From the corner of his eye, he studied her.
She inhaled the French toast, eating as ravenously as if she’d been starved. He’d asked for the powdered sugar to be lightly dusted on the edges and the syrup to be thoroughly warmed for a smoother pour. He’d overseen the sprinkling of cinnamon into the pot of her coffee.
She devoured her meal just like he’d known she would. He forced the smirk off his face, aiming for a neutral expression. Knowing his wife so well had tricked him into a false sense of security before. He’d imagined he understood her responses before she even formulated a reply. Doing so, he forgot her love of a shocking twist.
When she’d announced her departure, she left him speechless and unable to form an argument to convince her to stay until long after she’d gone.
However hard-won the battle, he couldn’t rest. And he knew better than to assume he was ready. His victory this morning wasn’t without a cost last night.
He was more tired than he’d been in years. After the adrenaline rush had diminished following the fire and confronting her, he’d returned to his office. He had known sleep would elude him, so he hadn’t bothered to go into his apartment and stare at the wall separating them. He’d only imagine her snoring if he had. A bone-deep weariness persisted; keeping his eyes open was an arduous task. And yet, he had never been more energized.
From following her social media accounts over the years, he knew that she had never really settled in any place for too long. Her reappearance solidified her intent to come home for good. He had hope. He wouldn’t need to be vulnerable if he kept her at arm’s length. She would do what she wanted when she wanted without thinking about him or anyone else. This time, he was smarter. He wouldn’t take the unintentional pain personally.
Besides, she couldn’t shatter his heart again. It was already irreparable. “Is it good? Do you need more syrup?”
She shook her head.
