“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
I looked at her for a long second.
“Yes,” I said. “You will.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth and rose again so quickly another man might have missed it.
I didn’t. That look went straight through me. I stepped closer, close enough for her breath to catch.
“Good night, Edwina,” I murmured.
Her voice came quieter. “Good night, Hayden.”
I should have left it there. I didn’t. I caught her face with one hand and kissed her. Not hard. Not this time. I kissed her slowly, giving her every chance to pull back, and when she didn’t, when her fingers curled into my coat and her body softened against mine, something dark and hungry in me nearly snapped loose.
She melted into it.
Fuck.
That almost ruined me.
Her mouth opened under mine with a soft, broken breath, and for one dangerous second, I forgot the door, the cold outside, the reasons I was supposed to stop. I forgot everything except the taste of her and the way she leaned into me as if some part of her had been waiting all day for this too.
I pulled back before wanting more turned into taking more than the moment could survive.
Her eyes opened slowly. Mine stayed on her mouth.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
She swallowed. “Tomorrow.”
I stepped back and opened the door before I could change my mind.
As I walked into the cold, I carried three things with me, the memory of Helena placing a toy cup in my hand, the sound of Edwina laughing under the Christmas lights, and the hard knowledge that forgiveness was still far away.
But tomorrow, for the first time in five years, I would not be standing outside their lives wondering whether I had the right to knock.
Tomorrow, I would simply come back.
Chapter Eighteen
Edwina
Christmasmorningbeganquietly.Pale winter light slipped through the windows and spread across the apartment, soft enough to make the whole place feel calmer than it was. The Christmas tree still glowed faintly in the corner, with a few gifts remaining beneath it.
My thoughts went back to Hayden.
I had promised him we would spend Christmas evening together. It had happened in that strange, quiet way things sometimes did with him, without force and without a demand, yet somehow carrying more weight than if he had argued for it.
Part of me wanted to believe him.
I wanted to look at the way he had been with Helena these last few days and think maybe he meant it when he said he was here to stay. Maybe this was not another version of Hayden rushingin with all the force of his feelings, only to leave ruin behind him later.
Another part of me stayed cautious.
Pain had taught me that. So had he. Loving Hayden had never been simple. Being chosen by him had once felt impossible to survive without, and being hurt by him had taught me how quickly devotion could become damage. Those truths did not cancel each other out. They lived side by side inside me, and Christmas did not make them easier to carry.
Still, when I looked toward the living room and saw Helena kneeling on the rug in her pajamas, carefully showing Snowy how to sit properly for breakfast while humming to herself, tenderness came first.
