Chapter 7: The Morning After
790 Words
Ava woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. The bed was soft. The sheets were silk. Then she remembered.
The kiss. The confession. Alexander sleeping beside her.
She turned. The other side of the bed was empty.
But a note was on the pillow.
*"Breakfast is in the dining room. Don't be late. — A"*
She smiled.
---
Ava showered. Dressed. Walked to the dining room.
Alexander was sitting at the head of the table. Coffee. Newspaper. His usual armor.
But his eyes were different. Softer.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning."
She sat across from him. The chef served eggs. Bacon. Fresh fruit.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked.
"The best I've slept in years."
"Me too."
They ate in silence. Not uncomfortable. Just quiet.
---
After breakfast, Alexander walked her to her room.
"About last night..."
"We don't have to talk about it."
"I want to."
Ava leaned against the doorframe. "Okay."
"I meant what I said. I'm starting to care about you."
"I'm starting to care about you too."
"Does that scare you?"
"Yes."
"Good. It scares me too."
He reached out. Touched her face.
"We should take this slow."
"Slow?"
"One step at a time. No rushing."
Ava nodded. "Slow."
---
The first step was dinner.
Not a formal event. Not a gala. Just the two of them. At home.
Alexander cooked.
Ava watched in amazement. He moved around the kitchen like he belonged there.
"You cook?"
"My mother taught me. Before she died."
"What's on the menu?"
"Pasta. Salad. Wine."
"Fancy."
"Simple. There's a difference."
She laughed. "You're quoting me again."
"You're quotable."
---
Dinner was perfect.
The pasta was al dente. The salad was fresh. The wine was expensive.
"This is good," Ava said.
"I had a good teacher."
"Your mother?"
"Yes."
They ate. Talked. Laughed.
Ava learned that Alexander had traveled the world. Spoke three languages. Played the piano.
"I didn't know any of this," she said.
"You didn't ask."
"I'm asking now."
He smiled. A real smile. "What else do you want to know?"
"Everything."
---
After dinner, they sat on the couch.
The fire crackled. The room was warm.
"Tell me about your mother," Ava said.
Alexander was quiet for a moment.
"She was kind. Patient. She believed in love."
"Like you said."
"She used to sing. Every night before bed. I don't remember the songs. But I remember her voice."
"What happened to her?"
"Car accident. I was in the car."
Ava's heart ached. "Alexander..."
"I don't remember the crash. I remember waking up in the hospital. My father was there. He told me she was gone."
"How old were you?"
"Twelve."
---
Ava reached out. Took his hand.
"I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"Pain doesn't have an expiration date."
He looked at her. "You said that before."
"Because it's true."
He squeezed her hand.
---
"Tell me about your mother," he said.
"She was strong. Fierce. She built a company from nothing."
"Your father's company?"
"My mother's company. My father ran it after she died. He ran it into the ground."
"That's why you signed the contract."
"That's why I signed the contract. To save her legacy."
Alexander pulled her closer.
"You're brave."
"I'm stubborn."
"Same thing."
She laughed. "Now you're definitely quoting me."
---
They sat in silence.
The fire crackled. The clock ticked.
"Ava."
"Yes?"
"I want to do this right."
"Do what?"
"Us. This marriage. Our relationship."
"Our fake marriage."
"It doesn't have to be fake."
Ava's heart pounded. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't want to lose you. After one year. After the contract ends."
"Alexander..."
"I know. It's too fast. Too soon. But I can't pretend anymore."
She looked at him. His gray eyes were soft. Vulnerable.
"Then don't pretend," she said.
"I won't. If you won't."
"I won't."
---
He kissed her.
Not soft. Not gentle. Deep. Hungry.
Ava kissed him back.
The world fell away.
---
When they pulled apart, Alexander's forehead rested against hers.
"Slow," he whispered.
"Slow."
But neither of them moved.
"We should go to bed," she said.
"Separate beds?"
"Separate rooms."
He nodded. Stood. Helped her up.
"Goodnight, Ava."
"Goodnight, Alexander."
He walked to his room. She walked to hers.
But neither of them closed their doors.
---
Ava lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
She was falling for him. Fast. Hard. Deep.
Across the hall, Alexander lay in his bed.
He was falling for her too.
---
In the morning, Ava woke to a text.
*"Breakfast is in the dining room. Don't be late. — A"*
She smiled.
The walls were gone.
And she was falling.
No parachute.
No safety net.
Just him.
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