Chapter Eighteen — Xavier
1639 Words
I had apologized.
That alone was enough to make me question whether I was still myself.
If someone had told me a few months ago that I would be sitting on the edge of a bed, looking at my husband and saying I’m sorry because I had invaded his workplace, I would have laughed in their face.
Me?
Apologizing?
Never.
I had built my entire life around control. Control was safety. Control was survival. Control was how I had been trained.
Don Falcon had taught me that hesitation got people killed.
But Avi was different.
Somehow, with him, all the rules I had lived by seemed to become blurred.
I had been pushing him since I came back.
The questions.
The calls.
The messages.
The constant need to know where he was and who he was with.
The jealousy.
The possessiveness.
The ridiculous threats.
And yesterday, I had crossed a line.
I had walked into his office while he was with a client.
That was unprofessional.
Even I knew that.
What bothered me more was the look on Avi’s face when he explained it to me.
He wasn’t angry because I cared.
He was hurt because I didn’t understand that caring did not give me the right to control every part of his life.
And somehow, hearing that had stayed with me.
I was still thinking about it the next morning.
I sat behind my desk, staring at a stack of paperwork I had been looking at for almost twenty minutes without reading a single word.
My mind wasn’t on business.
It was on Avi.
Again.
I picked up my phone.
For once, I didn’t call him with an interrogation.
I didn’t ask where he was.
I didn’t ask who was around him.
I simply called.
He answered after a few rings.
“Hello?”
His voice was calm.
I paused.
“How is your day going?”
There was another pause.
“Good. Busy, but good.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
He laughed softly.
“I’m working, Xavier.”
I smiled despite myself.
There was something different about his voice today.
He wasn’t irritated.
He wasn’t giving me one-word answers.
He was actually talking to me.
“You’re at the office?”
“Yes.”
I almost asked who was with him.
Almost.
But I stopped myself.
“I hope you eat something.”
“I will.”
“And don’t work too late.”
“I’m a lawyer. That’s practically impossible.”
I chuckled.
“Fine. Just don’t forget to eat.”
“I won’t.”
We stayed silent for a moment.
Then he said, “Is there anything else?”
I smiled.
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
That had gone well.
Very well.
Maybe this was what Falcon meant.
Maybe I didn’t have to force everything.
Maybe I could simply talk to him.
My office door opened.
My secretary stepped inside with a folder.
“Mr. Falcon.”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“The business awards ceremony is tomorrow evening. You’ve already confirmed your attendance. Your suit that was ordered two months ago is ready.”
Two months ago.
I looked toward the window.
Two months ago, I had been in Sicily.
I hadn’t planned on coming back.
I hadn’t planned on seeing Avi.
I hadn’t planned on caring.
Yet here I was.
Back in the States.
Married.
And completely distracted by the man who barely knew what to do with me.
“The award,” I said slowly. “Everything is confirmed?”
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
She hesitated.
“Will Mr. Avi be attending?”
I looked at her.
That was the question.
I wanted him there.
Not because he was obligated to attend.
Not because he carried my name.
I wanted him there because I wanted to look into the crowd and see him.
My family.
Avi.
The thought felt strange.
But it also felt right.
“Yes,” I said.
I wasn’t entirely sure yet.
But I would make it happen.
And this time, I wouldn’t force him.
At least, I would try not to.
⸻
That afternoon, I stopped at a florist before heading to his office.
I chose the flowers myself.
I didn’t know much about flowers.
I knew more about weapons than bouquets.
But I knew Avi deserved something beautiful.
I called him before I arrived.
“I’m coming to pick you up.”
“I have a driver.”
“Tell him to go home.”
“Xavier—”
“Please.”
Silence.
Then he sighed.
“Fine.”
That single word made me smile.
I parked outside his building.
I didn’t go inside.
I wasn’t making the same mistake twice.
Instead, I called him.
“I’m downstairs.”
A few minutes later, I saw him walking toward the car.
The moment he opened the door, his eyes landed on the flowers sitting on the passenger seat.
He looked at them.
Then at me.
“What are those?”
“They’re for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
He picked them up carefully.
A small smile appeared on his face.
Not the polite smile he sometimes gave me.
A real one.
It was tiny.
But I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
“Thank you,” he said.
I nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
I didn’t say anything else.
I wanted to remember that smile.
⸻
That evening, something unusual happened.
Avi called me.
“Xavier?”
I immediately looked at my phone as though it had betrayed me.
“You called me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
He laughed.
“I’m calling you because dinner is ready.”
I smiled.
“I’ll be there.”
When I walked into the dining room, he was already sitting there.
He looked relaxed.
No anger.
No irritation.
No attempt to escape upstairs.
I sat opposite him.
“How was your day?”
“Good.”
“Any new clients?”
“Two.”
“Anything interesting?”
He started telling me about one of his cases.
I listened.
Actually listened.
I didn’t interrupt.
I didn’t ask who the client was.
I didn’t ask whether the client was a man or woman.
I didn’t ask where they had met.
I simply listened.
And surprisingly, I enjoyed it.
Then I cleared my throat.
“There is something I want to ask you.”
Avi looked at me suspiciously.
“What?”
“There is an awards ceremony tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“I’ll be receiving an award.”
“That’s good.”
“I want you to come.”
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
“Do I really need to go?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
I took a breath.
“I want you to go.”
He studied me.
“Why?”
The answer came easily.
“Because you’re my family.”
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
I continued.
“And I would really, really like you to be there.”
The words felt unfamiliar coming from me.
I was used to commands.
Orders.
Threats.
Negotiations.
Not I would really like you to be there.
Avi looked at me for several seconds.
Then he sighed.
“Okay.”
My heart actually jumped.
“Okay?”
“Yes. I’ll go.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
“When are we leaving? I need to find something to wear.”
“You don’t.”
“What?”
“I already ordered you a suit.”
He stared at me.
“You already ordered one?”
“Yes.”
“How sure were you that I was going?”
I shrugged.
“I was preparing.”
He shook his head, smiling.
“You know what, Xavier?”
“What?”
“You’re really a handful.”
I laughed.
“Apparently.”
For once, there was no argument.
No tension.
No shouting.
Just dinner.
Just conversation.
Just us.
And somehow, it felt like progress.
⸻
Later that night, we went upstairs.
Avi changed into comfortable clothes and climbed into bed.
I changed as well.
He settled on his side, scrolling through his phone for a while.
Eventually, he put it down.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
His breathing gradually became slower.
Within minutes, he was asleep.
I wasn’t.
I turned onto my side and looked at him.
There it was again.
That face.
Those delicate features.
Those eyelashes.
The peaceful expression he only wore when he wasn’t annoyed with me.
I watched him.
Five minutes.
Then ten.
Maybe twenty.
I knew it was obsessive.
I knew it wasn’t normal.
But I couldn’t stop myself.
Three months ago, I had never planned to come back.
Three years ago, I had left a husband behind without even looking back.
Now I couldn’t sleep without looking at him.
I reached out instinctively, then stopped before touching him.
Not yet.
I had already pushed too much.
Maybe Falcon was right.
Maybe loving someone wasn’t about possessing them.
Maybe it was about learning how to stay close without making them feel trapped.
I looked at Avi again.
Tomorrow, he would stand beside me.
Not because I forced him.
Because he chose to.
And for some reason, that meant more to me than I wanted to admit.
I smiled faintly.
“Good night, Avi.”
He didn’t hear me.
But for the first time since I had returned, I felt like maybe—just maybe—we were finally moving in the right direction.
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