Chapter 403
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Chapter 403
Alexander
I drove away from Madison’s café, my hands gripping the wheel like it might escape if I loosened my hold. The Aston Martin purred beneath me, all that expensive engineering wasted on a man whose thoughts kept circling back to a four–year–old boy with my eyes.
That hug.
Christ, that hug.
The kid had melted into me like I was someone safe. Someone trustworthy. Someone who deserved that kind of easy affection.
I didn’t deserve it.
The GPS guided me back toward the hotel, but I barely registered the turns. My mind was stuck in that café, watching Ethan bounce around with the kind of energy that suggested sugar and pure joy in equal measure.
“King Alexander,” he’d called me.
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. Bitter and sharp. King Alexander. If only the kid knew how spectacularly his “king” had fucked up.
***
I leaned back in the leather booth, swirling whiskey in my glass. The bar was upscale without being pretentious, all dark wood and brass fixtures. Quiet enough for conversation but busy enough that we weren’t drawing attention.
Anthony arrived ten minutes late, looking relaxed in jeans and a button–down.
“You’re late,” I said as he slid into the booth.
“And you’re brooding. What else is new?” He signaled the bartender. “Bourbon. Neat.”
We sat in silence until his drink arrived. Anthony took a long sip, studying me over the rim of his glass.
“So,” he finally said. “Hell of a night.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Too bad.” He set down his glass. “Because we’re going to talk about it anyway. That’s what friends do. They force uncomfortable conversations when necessary.”
I took another drink of whiskey, letting the burn ground me.
“I had a good day at the clinic. Saw about forty patients, mostly routine stuff. One kid had a nasty infection that cleared up nicely with antibiotics. A couple of elderly folks are managing chronic conditions. Pretty standard.”
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I raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to this recap?”
“I’m easing into the real conversation. Being gentle.” He grinned. “Which is more than you deserve, honestly.”
“How considerate.”
“One old woman asked if I was married. When I said yes, she told me I had kind eyes. Said my wife was lucky.”
“Touching.”
“Then she asked if I had kids.” Anthony’s expression shifted slightly. “Got me thinking about family. About what it means to be a father. About responsibilities and choices and all that philosophical bullshit.”
I said nothing, just watched him over my glass.
“Which brings me to you,” he continued. “And the very interesting situation you’ve found yourself in.”
“Don’t.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely going to.” He leaned forward. “Let me ask you something. What do you actually want?”
“That’s vague.”
“What do you want with Madison? With that kid of yours? With Katherine? With your entire life?” He ticked off points on his fingers. “You look like a man who has no idea what he wants but is terrified of making the wrong choice.”
“I’m not terrified.” I drained my whiskey, signaling for another. “I’m handling it.”
“You’re spiraling. There’s a difference.”
The bartender brought my refill. I took a measured sip, buying time to organize my thoughts.
“You need to be honest with yourself,” Anthony said, his voice dropping. “Figure out what you actually want. Not what you think you should want. Not what’s convenient or logical or good for business. What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. You know. You’re just afraid to admit it.”
I turned the glass in my hand, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “It’s complicated.”
“Everything with you is complicated. You make it complicated because that gives you an excuse not to deal with things.” Anthony paused. “Look at Katherine. You’ve been engaged for five years. Five years without setting a date. That’s not normal. That’s avoidance.” 1
“We’re both busy.”
“You’re avoiding commitment because you don’t want to marry.” He shook his head. “When’s the last time you. two actually spent time together? Had a real conversation? Did anything besides show up at corporate events?”
I couldn’t remember. Days? Weeks? Months?
“Exactly,” Anthony said, reading my silence. “You’re engaged to a woman you barely see because it’s
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convenient. Meanwhile, Madison leaves, and you spend five years pretending you’re over it. Then the moment you see her again, you drop everything and drive to Connecticut.”
I said nothing because he was right.
“So I’ll ask again. What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you better figure it out. Because that kid deserves better than a father who can’t decide if he wants to be involved.” Anthony leaned back. “And Madison deserves better than you showing up and disrupting her life without any clear intentions.”
The words stung because they were true.
“You made a lot of mistakes,” Anthony continued, his tone gentler now. “With Katherine. With Madison. With that kid. But you can’t change the past. You can only decide what you’re going to do moving forward.”
“Which is?”
“That’s for you to figure out. Not me. Not Katherine. Not Madison.” He finished his bourbon. “But whatever you decide, commit to it. Stop this halfway nonsense where you’re engaged but not married, interested but not pursuing, curious but not confronting.”
I stared into my whiskey, his words echoing in my head.
What did I want?
Katherine was beautiful, successful, and perfect on paper. Our engagement made sense. Strengthened both our positions. Created the kind of power couple image that opened doors.
But I didn’t love her. Not really. Not the way people were supposed to love their partners.
And Madison…
Madison had always been different. Challenging. Infuriating. Capable in ways that impressed me, even when I didn’t want to be impressed. She’d understood me in ways Katherine never had, anticipated my needs before I voiced them, and made me laugh when I was too stressed to find anything funny.
She’d also left without a word. Disappeared from my life completely. Built an entire existence I knew nothing
about.
And sitting here, five years later, I couldn’t even pretend to understand why that still bothered me so much.
P
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
