10

Alexander hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that moment from last week.

It had been a mistake to agree to that coffee.

June had shown up at his office unannounced…a familiar face from his past, someone he hadn’t seen in five years, back when she was little more than the daughter of his mother’s old friend. She’d walked in like she belonged, flashing a smile too eager for someone who hadn’t spoken to him in half a decade. Said she was back in the city and wanted to catch up. Out of courtesy, and perhaps curiosity, he agreed. Just a coffee. Fifteen minutes, tops. A harmless gesture.

He should’ve known better.

From the moment they sat down at the café down in the company, something had felt off. So he kept the conversation surface-level. And then, without warning, she’d leaned forward and kissed him.

Quick. Uninvited. A flash of movement that came out of nowhere.

He’d recoiled instantly, backing away like he’d touched an open flame. His face had gone cold, flat. He had told her off, stood up, left money on the table, and walked away without looking back.

Since then, he hadn’t returned a single call. No texts. No emails. He hadn’t even glanced at her name when it lit up on his screen. Not even when she was stalking him, showing up and trying to get his attention.

She had crossed a line, and it didn’t matter how long ago they’d known each other or what she thought might happen between them. All Alexander could think about was Ava. Her face. Her trust. Her heart.

And still, the guilt lingered.

Not because he had kissed her. He hadn’t. Not because he’d wanted it. He hadn’t. But because it had happened at all. Because he had let someone into his space who didn’t respect the boundary of his marriage. Because he hadn’t seen it coming, and that ignorance made him feel like he had failed Ava in some quiet, awful way.

And now… Ava hadn’t called him all day. Although, he could swear she knew nothing, he just felt uncomfortable.

He was out with the guys…old college friends, a few colleagues from the firm, watching a football match at Jake’s penthouse. A place with floor-to-ceiling windows, leather couches, too much alcohol, and a giant flat-screen that took up half a wall. The table was crowded with beer bottles and platters of wings and fries, the air thick with laughter and loud commentary.

But Alexander wasn’t really there.

He sat on the edge of the couch, one hand curled around a sweating beer bottle, the other constantly reaching for his phone. Thumbing the screen. Refreshing. Checking again.

No missed calls. No texts.

Nothing.

Ava always sent something. A voice note, a short message, a picture of her lunch or her curled up in his hoodie on the couch. A random “I love you” in the middle of the day. Something that drew him to her, even from miles away.

But today…radio silence.

“You good?” Julian, his oldest friend and the loudest of the group, leaned in and nudged him with his elbow. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it owes you money.”

Alexander gave a half-shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… haven’t heard from Ava.”

The guys groaned in unison, the sound loud and theatrical.

“Again?” Derek said from the other side of the room, tossing a fry into his mouth. “Man, we get it. You’re married. But let her breathe, bro.”

“Nah,” Jake added with a grin, cracking open another beer. “He’s not just married. He’s whipped. Like, fully, no-return, say-goodbye-to-his-balls whipped.”

“I’m not whipped,” Alexander said, his voice flat, taking a long sip of his drink.

“Bro,” Julian pointed at him, his eyes wide with mock accusation. “You bought her a new car for your one-month anniversary.”

Alexander couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. It was quiet, under his breath. “And I’d do it again.”

The guys whistled, a chorus of disbelief.

“Admit it,” Derek said, raising his beer like a toast, “you’re obsessed.”

Alexander didn’t even pause. “Yeah. I am. She’s my life.”

That shut them up for a moment.

Julian let out a dramatic snort. “Man, get out of here with your romcom energy.”

“I’m serious.” Alexander stood, grabbing his keys from the table without hesitation. “I’m heading home.”

“Oh my God,” Jake groaned, grabbing a chip and flinging it at him. “The match isn’t even over!”

“Tell me how it ends.” Alexander shrugged on his jacket, already halfway out the door.

They booed, teased, cursed behind him in good humor…but it all faded behind the quiet roar of his thoughts.

He just wanted to see her face.

He pushed through the front door of the penthouse and stepped into the cool night air, his pace brisk as he headed for the elevator. The city skyline glowed in the distance, but he barely registered it.

He needed to go home.

Now.

…

The drive home felt longer than it should have. Every red light was a personal insult. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, jaw clenched, heart racing like he was about to walk into something fragile, uncertain, and more important than anything else in the world.

When he finally pulled into the driveway, the house was quiet, warm light spilling out through the curtains. The porch light was on, the front door slightly ajar like she’d been waiting.

He didn’t even knock.

As soon as he stepped inside, she was there.

Ava.

She was standing barefoot in the hallway, wearing one of his shirts...soft cotton that barely reached her thighs. Her hair was loose, a little messy like she’d run her fingers through it a dozen times. And her eyes...God, her eyes locked onto him with so much power, he stopped breathing.

She didn’t wait for him to come closer.

She ran straight to him.

He barely had time to drop his keys before she crashed into him, arms around his neck, her mouth on his in a kiss that didn’t ask...it demanded.

Alexander staggered back a step, stunned, but his hands instinctively came to her waist. Then her cheeks. Then her back, pulling her tighter like he was afraid she’d disappear.

Her kiss was desperate. Soft and feverish. She kissed him like she had no patience left, like she’d spent the whole day unraveling and he was the only way to feel whole again.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his lips, barely pausing to breathe. “God, I missed you.”

His mouth moved with hers. He didn’t even try to speak. He couldn’t. He was drowning in her, in the heat of her skin, the way she clung to him like she never wanted to let go.

Buttons were undone.

Shirts were peeled off.

They stumbled down the hallway, half-blind with hunger. She tugged his belt loose. He lifted her effortlessly, kissing her as he carried her into the bedroom, their shadows could be seen across the walls.

Clothes hit the floor in silent chaos.

They didn’t stop.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Their bodies moved like they’d missed each other in a way that went deeper than time or space or logic. They made love like they’d been pulled apart and this...this...was the only way to feel stitched back together again.

Every kiss, every touch was a promise.

He held her like he meant it. Like she was the center of his world.

She gasped his name with so much need.

He whispered hers like a vow.

And when it was over...when the rush had passed and their breathing slowed...they lay tangled in each other beneath the sheets. Skin against skin. Silent but not empty.

The room was slightly dark, only the soft glow from the hallway spilling in.

Alexander turned his head to look at her. She was lying on her side, eyes closed, hair splayed across the pillow. She looked peaceful. Soft. Real.

“I love you,” he said quietly, almost reverently.

She didn’t answer.

She blinked, sat up slowly, brushing her hair back from her face.

Then, without looking at him, she stood and reached for his shirt on the floor, slipping it back over her head.

“Come eat,” she said, voice even. “I made your favorite.”

And then she left the room.

Just like that.