Chapter 2: Unfinished Business

Derek's POV

I don't sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see Vanessa against that wall, feel her lips on mine, hear the way she moaned my name. Then I see that security guard yanking me off her and the look on her face when I left.

By six AM I'm in my home gym taking my frustration out on the punching bag. My jaw is swollen, there's a cut on my lip, and my ribs ache from where that guy hit me. I look like I got in a bar fight.

My phone rings. Jake. I ignore it but he calls again, so I finally answer.

"Where the hell were you last night? You disappeared and didn't answer my calls," he says, sounding worried and pissed. "Please tell me you didn't do something stupid."

"I paid twenty thousand for a private session with the club's top dancer." I hit the bag again, harder. "Turned out to be my ex-wife. Her security guard punched me in the face. Stupid enough for you?"

Silence. Then, "Jesus Christ, Derek. Your ex-wife is a stripper?"

"Apparently." I sit down on the bench, breathing hard. "She wants to meet today. At our old house."

"And you're actually going? Man, maybe it's time to let this go. She clearly has a whole new life and you're just—"

"Don't," I cut him off. "Don't tell me to move on. You didn't see the way she kissed me back."

"That doesn't mean anything. Look, I'm saying this as your friend. She left you two years ago and you barely functioned for months. Now she shows up and you're right back where you started."

He's right but it doesn't change anything. "I'm meeting her at noon."

Jake sighs. "When this blows up in your face, don't say I didn't warn you." He hangs up before I can respond.

---

I arrive at the house at eleven forty-five, too early but unable to wait. The place looks the same as when I took it off the market two years ago. I couldn't sell it, couldn't stand the thought of strangers living in the space we'd built together.

I let myself in and the memories hit immediately. The living room where we used to watch movies. The kitchen where she'd make breakfast on Sundays. Everything about this place is haunted by her.

At exactly noon I hear a car pull up. My heart kicks into overdrive but I force myself to stay by the window, to not rush to the door like some desperate fool.

The door opens and closes. Footsteps in the hallway. Then she's standing in the doorway wearing jeans and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled back, no makeup. She looks nothing like the woman from last night.

"Hi," she says quietly.

"Hi." We stare at each other across the empty room. "So you wanted to talk."

She walks further in, wrapping her arms around herself. "I owe you an explanation. About last night, about everything."

"You don't owe me anything. You made that clear when you left."

"I know you're angry—"

"Angry doesn't even begin to cover it, Vanessa." I take a step toward her. "You disappeared without a word, filed for divorce through a lawyer, refused to see me. Then I find out you've been dancing at a strip club."

"I needed to survive," she says defensively. "After I left, I had nothing. No job, no money, just debt. Dancing was the only way I could make enough to—"

"To what? Buy a new life?" I move closer. "Tell me something. If that guy hadn't shown up last night, would you have stopped me?"

She looks away and that's answer enough.

"That's what I thought." I close the distance between us. "You can't pretend you didn't want it as much as I did."

"Of course I wanted it!" Her voice rises, eyes flashing. "I wanted it and I hated myself for it because you're the reason I fell apart, Derek. You're the reason I ended up in that club."

"How is that my fault? You're the one who left."

"Because you were never there!" She's crying now, tears streaming down her face. "I needed you and you were always at the office, always on business trips, always choosing your company over me."

Something in her voice makes my stomach drop. There's more, something she's not saying.

"What aren't you telling me?" I grab her arms gently. "Vanessa, what happened?"

She tries to pull away but I hold firm, and finally she looks up at me with devastated eyes.

"I was pregnant." Her voice breaks on the words. "Two years ago, I was pregnant and I lost the baby while you were in Tokyo on a business trip."

The world stops. "What?"

"I called you twelve times that day. Twelve times while I was bleeding and terrified and alone in a hospital." She wipes her tears angrily. "You finally called back three days later like nothing was wrong. That's when I knew I'd always be alone with you. So I left."

I feel like I've been punched in the chest. "Vanessa, I didn't know—"

"I know you didn't know. That's the whole point." She pulls free from my grip. "I couldn't stay married to someone who wasn't there when I needed him most."

My legs give out and I sink down onto the dusty floor, head in my hands. A baby. She was pregnant with my baby and lost it alone while I was closing some deal I can't even remember now.

"I'm sorry," I choke out. "God, Vanessa, I'm so sorry."

She sits down next to me, not touching but close enough that I can feel her warmth. We sit in silence for a long time, both of us crying, both of us broken by the truth that's finally out.

"I loved you," she whispers finally. "I loved you so much it destroyed me."

"I still love you." The words are out before I can stop them. "I never stopped."

She turns to look at me, eyes red and puffy, and something shifts between us. The anger is still there but so is something else, something raw and desperate.

"We can't do this again," she says, but she's leaning toward me anyway. "It'll just end the same way."

"Maybe." I reach up and cup her face, thumb brushing away her tears. "Or maybe we get it right this time."

"Derek—"

I kiss her before she can finish the thought, soft and careful, nothing like last night's fury. She makes a small sound and melts into me, hands fisting in my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear.

We end up on the floor tangled together, kissing like we're drowning and the other person is air. My hands slide under her sweater and she arches into my touch, gasping my name against my lips.

"I missed you," she breathes. "I missed this, missed us."

"Then come back to me." I pull her sweater over her head and she doesn't stop me. "Let me prove I've changed."

"How?" Her hands are working on my shirt buttons now. "How do I know you won't just—"

"Because losing you the first time nearly killed me." I flip us so she's underneath me on the floor. "Because I'd rather burn my entire company to the ground than lose you again."

She pulls me down into another kiss and this time there's no hesitation, no holding back. We're desperate and clumsy and it's nothing like it used to be but somehow it's better, more real, because now we both know what it's like to lose this.

Her phone buzzes. Then again. Then starts ringing.

"Ignore it," I murmur against her neck.

"I can't, it might be—" She reaches for her bag and pulls out her phone, then goes pale. "Oh god. I have to go."

"What? No, Vanessa—"

But she's already pulling away, grabbing her sweater, looking panicked. "I'm sorry, I have to go right now."

"Why? What's wrong?"

She's at the door before I can stop her. "I'll explain later, I promise. I just—I have to go."

Then she's gone and I'm left sitting on the floor of our old house, shirt half unbuttoned, wondering what the hell just happened.