Page 115 of Forbidden Fruit
I shake my head, shame coursing through me relentlessly. “I felt like filth. Like a cheap, disgusting homewrecker…”
“Don’t,” he says, the word ragged and sharp. “Don’t say that about yourself.”
“I…”
“I didn’t know she told you that. I swear. I have nevertouched Abigail in that manner. That’s the whole fucking truth.”
Then he does something I never thought I’d see.
He drops to his knees like satin pooling on the floor, his hands reaching out for mine. “Please,” he breathes, and I can hear the wreckage in his voice. “Please give me a second chance. Let me prove it. Let me love you the way you deserve. Let me worship you, the way I was always supposed to.”
He tries to smile, but it trembles. “Come on, Peach. You’ve got a grown-ass man on his knees begging and shit.”
And damn it… it hurts.
Because some part of me wants to reach for him. Wants to crawl into his arms and pretend none of this ever happened. But love can’t survive in the shadows.
I slowly pull my hands from his and rise to my feet, the motion slicing clean through the moment. He looks up at me, heartbreak painting every line of his face.
“I’m sorry, Calvin,” I say, my voice barely a breath. “I can’t. I… I need time.” We stay like that for a while, with him still on his knees, his big brown eyes pleading with me, but after some time, he stands slowly, giving me space, letting me back away. And then, so gently it makes my soul ache, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Okay,” he whispers. “But I’m not done fighting for us, so I’ll see you very soon, Peach.”
Then he turns, walks to the door, and slips out without another word.
The door clicks shut.
The silence that follows is loud enough to break me.
My heart plummets to the floor, and for the first time, I wonder if walking away from the only man I’ve ever loved was brave…
Or the beginning of my greatest regret.
The next morning, I wake up earlier than I have in years. It’s not intentional. My body refuses to let me sleep. It hasn’t let me sleep properly since Blair left. I’ve grown so used to being wrapped around her, to feeling her warmth next to me, that the bed feels like a cold, foreign place without her.
I sit up and rake a hand over my face, staring blankly at the ceiling. My chest feels heavy, a dull ache that refuses to ease. I miss her. I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone as much as I miss Blair. Her laughter, her smart mouth, the way she could light up a room without even trying, it all haunts me, has taken up permanent residence in my mind, replaying in a cruel loop.
The hotel I’m staying at is five minutes from her apartment. It’s not the best place I’ve ever stayed, not even close, but it was the nearest option. That’s all that mattered. I couldn’t bring myself to be farther away from her than absolutely necessary.
I glance at the clock on the bedside table. It’s too early. Blair would never be awake at this hour. She sleeps like the dead when she has the chance, stretching her mornings out until noon if no one pulls her from the bed. I smile faintly at the thought, remembering how stubborn she could be about her mornings.
But the smile doesn’t last.
She’s not here. She’s not wrapped up in the blankets, grumbling about the light streaming through the curtains. She’s not stealing the covers or kicking me in her sleep.
She’s not mine.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut every time.
With a heavy sigh, I drag myself out of bed and grab my phone off the nightstand. My inbox is a disaster, hundreds of unread emails, meetings I’ve missed, and tasks that need my attention. Normally, the chaos would stress me out, but right now? None of it feels important.
I’m not blind to the mess waiting for me back home. Deals are hanging by a thread, projects are piling up, and my team is probably questioning whether I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
But none of that matters. The only thing that matters is getting Blair back.
I settle at the small desk in the corner of the room, flipping open my laptop. I tell myself I’ll get some work done, be productive while I wait for a reasonable hour to see her, but it’s a lie.
Every email I open, every task I attempt, my mind drifts back to her.
