Page 22 of Iridescent
Xavier barely ate. Barely slept. He sat beside my hospital bed for days in the same clothes, his hand wrapped around mine while the machines breathed for me and decided whether I lived or died.
I never questioned after that where I belonged.
In some ways, that was the beginning of the slow, suffocating fear that has wrapped itself around our lives ever since.
Maybe that’s why I keep trying. Because I want to prove that we’re still capable of creating something beautiful together. Because when boxing was taken from me, I needed something else to live for. Something that was ours.
I don’t know if that makes me foolish.
All I know is that loving him has always meant refusing to let go, even when it hurts.
The fight drains out of me. My shoulders sink back into the seat, fingers loosening from the death grip I had on my dress.
Xavier’s hands stay locked on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road. He looks less like a man arguing and more like a man bracing for impact.
We lapse into silence. The city thins out around us until it is just darkness and the low hum of the engine, the world strobing past in brief flashes of streetlight across his face, glinting off the gold band on his finger.
My gaze lingers on it.
I turn my own wedding ring with my thumb.
“You’ve been so busy these past few months,” I say at last. “And yesterday… I know why you weren’t there. I’m not trying to punish you for that.” The memory hurts all over again. “But I waited for you, Xavier. For hours. And you didn’t call.”
Xavier closes his eyes briefly, his throat working as he swallows.
“I know,” he says softly. “I don’t have an excuse for that either. I’m sorry, Amor.”
“You said your cousin flew in from Madrid after her father’s funeral.” His gaze flicks to me, startled that I remember. “I was half-asleep, Xavier, not absent.” My fingers lace together in my lap. “Wasn’t he one of your uncles?You made it sound like he had nothing to do with you.”
“Right.” His brows knit together. “He was my uncle. Distant, but still family. He had cancer.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t tell you because you already had too much on your mind. I thought I was sparing you by staying silent. I see now I was only shutting you out.”
My heart twists. Even now, he’s trying to shield me, in his own misguided way.
I take off my glasses and wipe at my cheek with the back of my hand.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry you went through that alone. I’ve been making everything about me when you were hurting too.”
“No, amor,” Xavier breathes. “You had every right to be upset. I should have told you… I just didn’t want to see you cry anymore.” He releases a hollow, humorless laugh and shakes his head. “Look how well that worked. All we’ve done tonight is make each other cry.”
A weak chuckle slips past my lips, tangled with a lingering sniffle. “Yeah,” I admit. “We are a mess.”
The corners of his mouth lift. “Un desastre,” he agrees. A disaster.
We share a glance, and despite everything, I see a faint warmth in his eyes, a hint of the wry humor that used to flow so easily between us. I hold onto it like a lifeline.
So what if my husband has been distant enough to make me call his company like some insecure wife, with cameras hounding me on days I’d rather sink into the ground?
I knew what I signed up for when I married him. The money. The attention. The scrutiny. The price of loving a powerful man. Everything will not always be rosy. He isn’t perfect. Neither am I.
Get it together.
Up ahead, two familiar stone pillars rise on the left, half-hidden by bougainvillea. Between them, the iron gates stand open beneath the watchful eye of two security guards in dark suits.
One of them steps forward as we slow, then recognizes Xavier’s car and waves us through.
Beyond the entrance, the driveway to his parents’ estate cuts throughthe trees. The villa’s lights glow in the distance, silhouettes of parked cars scattered along the gravel.
We’re late.
