Chapter 91 Jealous as hell
Cassie
Grey was quiet for a long moment, processing what I'd told him. I could see him working through his emotions the jealousy, the hurt, the fear that I might have chosen someone else during his absence.
"Thank you for telling me," he said finally.
"You're not angry?"
"I'm hurt," he admitted. "Jealous as hell. Angry? No. I'm the one who left you alone and vulnerable. I'm the one who created the situation where another man felt like he could swoop in and offer comfort." His hand smoothed over my hair. "And you chose not to kiss him. You chose not to let him in. Even when you were at your lowest point, you protected what we had."
The understanding in his voice, the complete absence of accusation or blame, made my chest tight with emotion. This was the change I'd needed to see. Grey processing his feelings without making them my responsibility to manage.
"I was so close to giving up on us," I whispered. "So close to believing that you were never coming back, that I was stupid for waiting."
"You didn't give up. You waited. Even when I gave you every reason not to."
"I don't know why. I should have moved on. Any reasonable person would have filed divorce papers and started over with someone who actually deserved them."
"You're not reasonable," Grey said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "You're stubborn and loyal and capable of loving someone even when they don't deserve it. It's one of the things I love most about you."
I lifted my head to look at him properly. "I need you to understand something, Grey. I'm not the same woman you left behind. These months alone changed me. I learned how to be happy by myself, how to make decisions without considering anyone else's needs or feelings. I learned that I don't need you to complete me."
Something flickered in his eyes—not hurt, but recognition.
"Good," he said firmly. "You shouldn't need me to complete you. You should want me because I add something to your life, not because you can't function without me."
"I do want you," I said, the admission feeling both vulnerable and empowering. "But I also need you to understand that I won't go back to being the woman who was afraid to take up space in her own marriage. I won't shrink myself to make you comfortable."
"I don't want you to shrink. I want you to be exactly who you are—stubborn and brilliant and independent and fierce. I want to be worthy of choosing to share your life with me, not because you have to, but because you want to."
His words settled something in my chest that had been unsettled for months. This was what I'd needed to hear, what I'd been afraid he'd never understand.
"I was scared," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "When Dante tried to kiss me, when I felt that moment of temptation, I was scared that it meant I didn't love you enough. That if I really loved you the way I thought I did, the idea of being with someone else wouldn't have even occurred to me."
"Love isn't a test, Cassie. It's not about never being tempted or never having doubts. It's about choosing each other despite the temptation, despite the doubts." His thumb traced along my cheekbone. "You chose me even when I'd given you every reason not to. That means everything."
I felt tears prick at my eyes again, overwhelmed by the depth of understanding he was showing. "I need you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"Promise me you won't run again. Not if things get difficult, not if we have another crisis, not if your fears get triggered. Promise me that if you're struggling, you'll talk to me instead of disappearing."
"I promise," he said without hesitation. "I swear to you, Cassie, I will never abandon you like that again. I'll fight for us, even when—especially when—I'm scared."
" I need to promise you something too," I said, my voice steady despite the emotion churning in my chest. "I promise I won't shut you out when I'm hurt. I won't disappear into work or silence or anger without giving you a chance to make things right. We're partners, and partners don't abandon each other."
We sealed the promises with a kiss that tasted like new beginnings and second chances. When we broke apart, Grey rested his forehead against mine.
"I have something else I need to tell you," he said, his voice serious.
My stomach clenched. "What?"
"I know about Dante and Ella's daughter."
The confession hit me like a physical blow. "How?"
"I hired a private investigator after I got back from London. Not to spy on you," he added quickly, seeing the look on my face. "To understand what I'd missed while I was gone, who was in your life, what support system you had." He looked ashamed. "It was a violation of your privacy, and I know that. I needed to know if you were safe, if you had people taking care of you."
I sat up, pulling the sheet around myself. "Grey."
"I know it was wrong. I fired him as soon as I got the report. Cassie, seeing that they had a baby together, knowing that you had to find out about that on your own..." His voice cracked. "I should have been there. I should have been the one helping you process that betrayal, not leaving you to face it alone."
The shame and regret in his voice was so raw that my anger deflated before it could fully form.
"You can't undo the past," I said quietly. "Neither of us can. We can only decide what we do moving forward."
"Moving forward, no more private investigators. No more tracking your phone or checking your schedule or trying to manage your environment. Moving forward, I trust you to make your own decisions and share what you want to share."
"Moving forward, I'll share more. I'll let you in instead of handling everything alone." I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. "We're going to have to learn how to do this differently, aren't we? How to be married to each other instead of just in love with each other."
"Yeah, we are." He brought my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Are you ready for that? For all the messy, difficult work of rebuilding trust?"
I thought about the alternative going back to my carefully constructed life of beautiful isolation, never risking my heart again, never taking the chance that love might actually work out this time.
"I'm ready," I said, and felt the truth of it settle in my bones. "Are you?"
"I've been ready since the moment I realized that losing you was worse than any fear I could imagine."
Outside, the city hummed with life and possibility. Inside my apartment—our apartment, maybe, if we could make this work—we held each other and planned for a future that would require courage from both of us.
It wasn't a guarantee. Love never came with guarantees. It was a beginning, and sometimes that was enough.