Chapter 25
1012 Words
*Alexander's POV*
I could not sit down.
Physically, I could not do it. Every time I tried, something inside me launched me right back up again like a coiled spring with nowhere to go. So I paced. Back and forth across the same ten feet of hospital corridor, my hands in my pockets, and my jaw was tight, while blood ran hot beneath my skin.
Elena was married.
Elena was married. How??!
To that man. That tall, infuriating man who had looked at me like I was a mild inconvenience and said "don't you dare touch my wife" with the quiet certainty of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove. Who the hell did he think he was?
I hated him immediately. Completely. On principle.
And how? How was it possible? In the space of ..what, weeks? A few months? Elena, who had loved me, who had been hours away from marrying me, was standing in a hospital corridor with a baby bump and a husband who shoved me away from her like I was a stranger?
I was not a stranger. I was...
I didn't finish that thought. I knew where it ended.
And the jealousy — God, the jealousy. It was sitting in my chest like something burning, hot and irrational and entirely without logic, and I knew I had no right to it. I had married Eliza. I had stood at that altar and said the words and signed the paper and built every wall between Elena and me with my own two hands.
And somehow that made it worse.
"....are you even listening to me?"
I blinked.
Eliza was standing in front of me. Her arms were folded, her face looked flushed, her eyes bright with something the exact description of hurt and fury.
I had absolutely no idea how long she had been talking.
"Alexander." Her voice was tight and controlled in the way that meant it was about ten seconds from not being controlled at all. "What the hell was that back there?"
I looked at her.
And said nothing.
"You just .... walked away from me. In the middle of a conversation. Mid-sentence, you turned and walked across a waiting room toward my sister like I didn't exist." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "What were you thinking? What were you doing? Who was that man and why were you..."
"Eliza." My voice came out flat. "Not now. I'm not in the right state of mind."
Her eyes flashed. "Not now? No Alexander, you do not get to tell me...."
"I said not now."
The words landed harshly. She pressed her lips together and went quiet, but the quiet was the brittle kind ....the kind with a lot of pressure building behind it.
Before either of us could say another word, a nurse appeared at the corridor door.
"Mrs. Steele? We're ready for you."
Eliza looked at me for one more second. Something moved across her face that I didn't have the bandwidth to read. Then she turned and followed the nurse through the door.
It swung shut behind her.
And I was alone with my pacing and my burning chest and the image of Elena's face I couldn't shake loose.
Who is he? I kept asking myself. Who is that man? Where did he come from? How does Elena know him? How did this happen so fast?
The questions went in circles. Tight, furious circles. I paced faster. My shoes made sharp sounds against the hospital floor that matched exactly the rhythm of my frustration.
I wasn't watching where I was going.
I should have been watching where I was going.
The collision was immediate and complete ....shoulder to shoulder, the kind of bump that sends things flying — and I heard the sound of a cup hitting the floor before I registered what had happened. Hot liquid splashed across a lady's shirt. Someone made a sharp sound of surprise.
I stopped immediately. s**t! I had bumped into someone.
"I'm sorry..." The words came out automatically, my hand already going to my pocket. "I am so sorry, I wasn't ... here.."
I pulled out my handkerchief and held it out, my eyes were still down, already calculating how to end this interaction as quickly as possible and get back to my pacing.
"It's alright," a voice said. It was smooth and unhurried. Unbothered in a way that suggested this woman handled inconveniences with the same calm she handled everything else.
I heard the sound of the handkerchief being taken. The quiet work of dabbing at fabric. I still hadn't looked up properly ... I was staring at her shoes, which were excellent shoes, the kind that announced significant money without needing to say anything out loud.
I paused
Then the handkerchief was extended back toward me.
And then a hand appeared beside it .... open, her palm slightly up, the universal language of a handshake offered with complete confidence.
"Alexander Steele right?" the voice said. Not a question. It was a confirmation. Like she had known before we bumped into each other.
That made me look up.
She was striking. That was the first word. Not just beautiful .... striking. She had a blonde hair, perfect posture, red lipstick sitting on her mouth like she had been born wearing it. Her dress was expensive and still immaculate despite the coffee situation, which was impressive, and she smelled like something warm and deliberately chosen.
She was smiling at me.
....I knew that smile, I had been the target of it my entire adult life. This was different. Easier. Like she found me interesting rather than useful.
I straightened. Cleared my throat. Smoothed the edges back into place.
"Yes," I said, my voice coming out even and measured, the way it always did when I remembered who I was supposed to be in public. "How may I help you?"
Her hand was still extended patiently. The smile still sitting perfectly where she had put it.
"I'm Andrea," she said. "It's nice to meet you Alexander Steele."
- Writer
