Chapter 12

The bookstore was unusually busy for a Thursday afternoon, which I was grateful for. The constant stream of customers kept my mind occupied, prevented me from obsessing over the fact that Christopher had left for San Francisco that morning.

Three days. He'd be gone for three days.

I told myself the hollow feeling in my chest was just habit, not longing. We'd only been living together for a few weeks. I shouldn't miss him this much already.

"You've reorganized that shelf three times," Claire observed, appearing at my elbow with two cups of coffee. "And it was fine the first time."

I accepted the coffee, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. "I'm just making sure everything's in order."

"Right. And I'm just casually mentioning that you've checked your phone approximately every five minutes for the past hour." Claire leaned against the bookshelf, her expression knowing. "He texted you, didn't he?"

Despite myself, I felt heat creep up my neck. "He just wanted to let me know he landed safely."

"Uh huh. And what did you say back?"

I pulled out my phone, showing her the message thread. Christopher's text had been simple and direct: "Landed in SF. Meeting starts in an hour. Hope the bookstore isn't too busy today."

My response had been equally simple: "Glad you made it safely. Good luck with your meeting."

Claire scrolled up, reading through our previous messages with interest. "You two are so formal with each other. It's like watching two CEOs negotiate a merger."

"That's basically what our marriage is," I pointed out, taking a sip of coffee.

"Was," Claire corrected. "Past tense. Because the way you're staring at your phone waiting for him to text back tells me this stopped being a business arrangement somewhere around the time he tried to cook you dinner."

I wanted to argue, but she wasn't wrong. Something had shifted between Christopher and me that night. The walls we'd both been maintaining had started to crack, revealing something tender and uncertain underneath.

My phone buzzed, and I tried not to look too eager as I checked it.

Christopher: Meeting went well. Thinking about getting dinner. What did you eat?

The question was so ordinary, so domestic, that it made my chest ache. This was what normal couples did—checked in on each other, shared the mundane details of their days.

Anastasia: Leftover pasta from last night. Your cooking actually held up well.

Christopher: Don't sound so surprised. I followed your instructions exactly.

Anastasia: That's probably why it worked.

Christopher: Are you implying I can't cook?

Anastasia: I'm stating it as fact.

Christopher: Fair enough. I'll stick to ordering takeout.

I found myself smiling at my phone, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in my chest.

"There it is," Claire said triumphantly. "That smile. You're falling for him, Ana. Like, really falling."

"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted, tucking my phone back into my pocket. "One minute I'm angry about the lying, the next I'm missing him because he's been gone for all of six hours. It's like I can't decide what I feel."

"Maybe you feel multiple things at once. That's allowed, you know." Claire squeezed my shoulder. "Love isn't simple or clean. It's messy and complicated and sometimes it doesn't make sense. But that doesn't make it any less real."

Before I could respond, the bell above the door chimed, announcing a new customer. I looked up and felt my stomach drop.

A woman walked in, tall and elegant in a designer dress that probably cost more than my monthly revenue. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, her entire presence screaming old money and privilege. She moved through the bookstore like she owned it, her critical gaze sweeping over the modest shelves and worn carpet.

When her eyes landed on me, her red lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"You must be Anastasia," she said, her voice smooth and cultured. "Christopher's little wife."

Every instinct I had screamed danger.

"I am," I replied carefully, setting down my coffee. "Can I help you find something?"

"Oh, I'm not here for books." She laughed, the sound like wind chimes made of ice. "I'm Victoria Ashford. Christopher's former fiancée."

The words hung in the air like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Claire moved closer to me, her presence solid and reassuring. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral, even as my mind raced. Former fiancée. Christopher had never mentioned a former fiancée.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. "But if you're not here for books, I'm not sure what I can do for you."

Victoria's smile sharpened. "I wanted to see for myself. When I heard Christopher had gotten married, I assumed it was some kind of business arrangement. But then I heard he's been coming home every night, playing house in that sterile apartment of his." Her gaze raked over me, assessing and finding me wanting. "I had to see what kind of woman could make Christopher Zane behave like an ordinary man."

"If you have something to say, say it," I replied, my voice steady despite the anxiety churning in my stomach.

"I'm saying you don't belong in his world, darling." Victoria took a step closer, her expensive perfume overwhelming in the small space. "You're a pretty distraction, but that's all you are. Once Christopher gets bored with playing normal, he'll remember who he really is. And when that happens, he'll come back to where he belongs."

"And where's that? With you?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.

"With someone who understands the kind of life he leads. The expectations, the social obligations, the business demands." Victoria's expression turned pitying. "You run a little bookstore. You have no idea what it takes to be the wife of a man like Christopher Zane. The charity galas, the board meetings, the social climbing and networking. You'll embarrass him eventually, and he'll realize his mistake."

Each word was designed to cut, to make me doubt myself and my place in Christopher's life. And the worst part was, some of them landed. Because Victoria was right about one thing—I didn't understand Christopher's world. I'd barely glimpsed it.

"Are you done?" I asked, my voice cold.

Victoria blinked, clearly not expecting my lack of reaction.

"Because here's what I think," I continued, stepping forward instead of backing down. "I think you're here because you're threatened. Christopher moved on, and you can't handle it. So you came to intimidate me, to make me feel small and inadequate, hoping I'd run away and leave him available again."

"That's not—" Victoria started.

"I'm not finished." My hands were shaking, but my voice remained steady. "You're right that I don't know Christopher's world. I don't know the social expectations or the business demands. But I know him. I know he takes his coffee black, that he works too much because he's afraid of being still, that he's trying to learn how to talk about feelings even though it terrifies him. And I know that whatever you had with him, it ended. He chose to let you go."

Victoria's perfect composure cracked, anger flashing across her features.

"This isn't over," she said quietly, dangerously. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, Anastasia. Christopher's world will chew you up and spit you out, and when it does, don't say I didn't warn you."

She turned and walked out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

The moment the door closed behind her, my knees nearly gave out. Claire caught my elbow, steadying me.

"Holy shit," Claire breathed. "That was intense. Are you okay?"

"I don't know." I sank into the nearest chair, my hands still trembling. "She's right, Claire. I don't know his world. What if I can't handle it? What if I do embarrass him?"

"Ana, look at me." Claire crouched in front of me, her expression fierce. "That woman came here to break you, and you didn't break. You stood up to her like a boss. Whatever Christopher's world involves, you can handle it."

I wanted to believe her. But Victoria's words kept echoing in my mind, each one a seed of doubt taking root.

My phone buzzed again.

Christopher: I have another meeting soon, but I wanted to check in. Everything okay?

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell him about Victoria? Or would that make me seem weak, insecure, exactly what Victoria had accused me of being?

Anastasia: Everything's fine. Just a busy day at the store.

The lie felt heavy, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. Not yet. Not when I was still processing what had happened.

Christopher: Good. I'll call you tonight after my dinner meeting. Want to hear your voice.

The last sentence made my heart squeeze painfully. Three days ago, I'd been ready to walk away from this marriage. Now, the idea of Christopher's world chewing me up and spitting me out terrified me because it meant losing what we'd been building together.

When had everything gotten so complicated?

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I went through the motions of helping customers and managing inventory, but my mind kept circling back to Victoria's visit. Former fiancée. Christopher had been engaged before, seriously enough that this woman still felt entitled to stake a claim.

What else didn't I know about him?

By the time I closed the bookstore and headed home, exhaustion had seeped into my bones. The apartment felt too empty without Christopher, his absence a tangible thing that pressed against me from all sides.

I heated up leftover pasta, ate half of it without tasting anything, then collapsed onto the couch with my phone.

At nine o'clock, right when he'd promised, Christopher called.

"Hey," I said, hating how relieved I sounded just hearing his voice.

"Hey yourself." His voice was warm through the phone, intimate despite the distance. "How was the rest of your day?"

I hesitated, then decided I'd already told one lie today. I didn't need to tell another. "Your former fiancée came to see me."

The silence on the other end was absolute.

"Victoria came to the bookstore?" Christopher's voice had gone cold, dangerous. "What did she say to you?"

"That I don't belong in your world. That I'll embarrass you eventually. That when you get bored of playing normal, you'll come back to where you belong." I kept my voice level, reporting facts. "She was quite thorough in explaining all the ways I'm inadequate."

"Anastasia, listen to me." Christopher's voice was intense, urgent. "Everything Victoria said is bullshit. She's manipulative and cruel, and she's trying to drive a wedge between us because she can't stand that I moved on."

"But you were engaged to her," I said quietly. "You were going to marry her."

"It was an arrangement, just like ours started out. Our families wanted to merge business interests, and we went along with it because it made sense on paper." He paused. "But I broke it off two years ago because I realized I couldn't spend my life with someone I didn't even like, let alone love."

"She said I'll embarrass you. That I don't understand your world or what it takes to be your wife." I hated the vulnerability in my voice, hated that Victoria's words had gotten under my skin.

"You want to know what embarrasses me?" Christopher's voice softened. "Pretending to be someone I'm not. Attending galas and making small talk with people who only care about what I can do for them. Victoria loved that world. She thrived on the social climbing and the networking. You know what you do? You make me remember who I am underneath all of that. You make me want to come home. That's worth a thousand charity galas."

Tears pricked at my eyes. "She really got to me, Christopher. Everything she said, all my doubts about whether I can handle this, she just confirmed them."

"Then let me say this clearly, so you never doubt it again." His voice was fierce, protective. "You belong with me. Not because you fit into some mold of what a billionaire's wife should be, but because you see me. The real me, not the image or the bank account. And if my world can't accept that, then my world can go to hell."

I laughed, the sound watery but genuine. "That's very romantic, in a destructive kind of way."

"I'm serious, Anastasia. If you want me to walk away from all of it, from the business and the social obligations and everything that comes with the Zane name, I will. I'll sell the company, we'll move somewhere quiet, and I'll learn to cook something other than disaster pasta."

"You can't mean that," I whispered.

"Try me." There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. "Before you, I had an empire but no life. Now I have both. If I have to choose, I choose you. Every time."

The tears spilled over, running down my cheeks. "Christopher—"

"I'm coming home," he said suddenly. "The meetings can wait. I'm getting on the next flight."

"No." I wiped at my face, forcing strength into my voice. "You have responsibilities. Important meetings. You don't need to run home because your wife had a bad day."

"You're not just my wife, Anastasia. You're the person I'm choosing every day, and I need you to know that." His voice gentled. "But if you want me to stay, I'll stay. Just tell me what you need."

What did I need? I needed to believe that what we were building was strong enough to withstand people like Victoria. I needed to believe that I was enough, just as I was.

"I need you to finish what you started there," I said finally. "And then come home and tell me everything. Every ex, every business dealing, every part of your world I don't know about yet. No more surprises."

"Deal," Christopher agreed immediately. "And Anastasia? If Victoria or anyone else tries to intimidate you again, you tell me. I'll handle it."

"I can handle myself," I replied, some of my strength returning.

"I know you can. You proved that today." Pride colored his voice. "But you don't have to handle everything alone anymore. That's what partnerships are for."

After we hung up, I sat in the quiet apartment, processing everything that had happened. Victoria's visit had shaken me, forced me to confront doubts I'd been trying to ignore. But Christopher's response, the unwavering certainty in his voice when he'd said he chose me, had steadied something inside me.

This wasn't going to be easy. His world would continue to challenge us, test whether what we had was real or just a beautiful illusion.

But for the first time, I believed we might actually survive it.

Because love wasn't about finding someone perfect who fit into your life seamlessly.

It was about finding someone worth fighting for, even when the fight got messy and complicated and hard.

And Christopher Zane, with all his walls and damage and complicated truths, was worth fighting for.