33
Late morning sun spilled through the wide glass windows of the wellness center, glinting off the polished reception desk and soaking into the quiet hum of clients moving between therapy rooms. The scent of eucalyptus lingered in the air. Everything about the place was calm—too calm for the storm Kingsley brought through the door.
He stepped in sharply, dressed in a tailored navy coat, drawing more than a few curious eyes. A receptionist looked up from her screen.
“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Carolina Marks. It’s personal.”
The receptionist blinked, unsure. “Is she expecting you?”
“No,” Kingsley said, tone clipped but polite. “Just tell her it’s Kingsley Rowe.”
She hesitated, then picked up the phone. A few moments passed. Kingsley stood still, trying to swallow the anticipation clenching his chest.
Then she came out.
Carolina froze the moment she saw him.
Her brown eyes narrowed, mouth pressing into a hard line. She crossed her arms, posture rigid and guarded as she stepped forward.
“What do you want?” she asked flatly, not bothering with pleasantries.
“I know this is unexpected,” Kingsley began, voice low, cautious. “I’m sorry for disturbing you at work. I just… I needed to talk. Please. Just a few minutes.”
Carolina exhaled sharply through her nose. “Fine. Let’s walk down to the restaurant . Five minutes.”
They walked in silence through the mild bustle of the street until they reached the little vegetarian restaurant two blocks away. They didn’t go inside—just stood to the side of the patio fence, in the shade of a small tree, the wind tossing Carolina’s braids gently over her shoulder.
Kingsley’s voice cracked first.
“I know you don’t owe me anything, but I need you to listen. I messed up. I know that. What I did to Katherine… it was selfish. It was wrong. I treated her like she didn’t matter, like she was supposed to fit into some box I made. And now—now I can’t stop thinking about it. About her. About how I destroyed something real because I didn’t know how to hold it.”
Carolina stared at him, unimpressed. “You didn’t know how to hold it? Or you didn’t want to?”
Kingsley’s mouth opened, then shut again. He looked down, then back at her, eyes almost pleading.
“I thought I was in love with her because of her eyes. I thought… I thought I didn’t care about her that was why I thought I could divorce her but I was a fool. I’m not here to defend that. I’m here to ask you to help me fix it. Please. I need to talk to her, and she won’t even look at me. She listens to you.”
“No,” Carolina said, without hesitation. “She listens to herself now. And it’s about time.”
Kingsley’s face stiffened.
“I’m serious,” Carolina continued, voice sharpening. “You had years to treat her right. Years. You didn’t just hurt her, Kingsley—you wrecked her. You humiliated and also allowed your mother to do the same, dragged her name through the dirt, and treated her like property when she begged for partnership. Now you want what—redemption? Closure?”
“No. I want a chance. Just one chance to show her I see it now.”
“She doesn’t need you to see it,” Carolina snapped. “She needs to heal from it. And you being around—this showing up at her café, calling people, stalking her like some ex-husband with a savior complex—it’s not helping. It’s cruel.”
Kingsley’s voice cracked. “But I love her.”
Carolina’s face softened for a split second. Then it hardened again.
“Then let her go. You have a wife, remember? Or have you forgotten Beth already?”
He flinched at that. She caught it.
“I’m not helping you. Don’t come back to my workplace. Don’t put Katherine in a position where she has to relive her trauma just because you’re finally waking up. If you love her the way you say… then walk away.”
Kingsley stood still, like a man frozen between pride and pain.
Then she turned, walked back toward the wellness center, not even looking over her shoulder.
And Kingsley, Kingsley just stood there—drenched in sunlight and regret.
The bell above the café door jingled softly, a familiar sound now. Kingsley stepped inside again, the weight in his chest heavier than the last time.
The place was less crowded this time. Still warm, still fragrant—coffee and baked cinnamon—but there was a tension in the air as soon as Katherine saw him.
She was behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine with precise, almost aggressive movements. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile.
Just looked up, saw it was him, and then turned back around.
Without a word, she reached for a cup.
He stood in the middle of the floor like a man who had walked into a courtroom, not a café.
A few moments later, she set the cup of coffee on the counter. No cream. No sugar. Just like he used to take it.
Her voice was calm, clipped.
“I heard you went to see Carolina at work.”
Kingsley’s throat tightened. He stepped forward, hands deep in his coat pockets.
“I did. I’m… I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have—”
“You really shouldn’t have,” she cut in, still not meeting his eyes.
She turned slightly, facing the next customer behind him. Her voice changed immediately—brighter, professional. “Hi, what can I get for you?”
Kingsley stood frozen, still holding the warm cup she had just handed him.
Then—just before the new customer could answer—Katherine’s eyes flicked back to Kingsley, cold and unreadable.
“You said you wanted to talk to me, right?” she murmured.
He nodded slowly, unsure where it was going.
“Fine. Come back around eight,” she said. “That’s when I close the café.”
Then she turned her full attention back to the customer, like he wasn’t even there anymore.
Kingsley stood there for a second, blinking, her voice echoing in his head.
Come back around eight.
He took the coffee and walked over to a corner table by the window. Sat down slowly. The coffee steamed in his hands, but he hardly tasted the first sip.
Her tone hadn’t been warm. Her face hadn’t softened. In fact, she hadn’t even really looked at him. Not the way she used to.
She’d looked past him. Through him.
And the way she said “Come back at eight”—it didn’t feel like an invitation. It felt like a warning.
Kingsley looked out the window at the street and then back at her behind the counter. The way her jaw was clenched. The way she smiled for everyone else, but had barely spoken to him.
It made his stomach knot.
She was angry.
No, not angry. Worn down. Like even her anger had gotten tired of him.
And that scared him more than anything.
Back at home, Beth was on her second glass of wine now, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows when the phone buzzed again—the same contact. She picked up immediately.
“You better have something useful,” she snapped before the person could speak.
“I do. I’ve got an update on what you asked for.”
She paused. Set the glass down carefully.
“Go on.”
“There’s no doubt now—Kingsley traveled to Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn?” Beth repeated, blinking as if she’d misheard. “What the hell is he doing in Brooklyn?
“He Stayed at an hotel, Springview hotel. Didn’t register under his name, but I got it. He was seen entering and leaving a café on Spring Street multiple times. The café is owned by his ex-wife. Katherine.”
Beth went completely still.
“Katherine,” she said slowly, like the word tasted bitter on her tongue. “He went to see her.”
“Yes. From what I gathered, he showed up at her café, drinked coffee there and had conversations with her.”
Beth’s silence was icy.
“You’re telling me,” she said, low and measured, “that Kingsley lied to me, claimed he had a business trip, and instead ran off to Brooklyn to chase after his ex-wife?”
“That’s what the trail shows. He wasn’t there for business.”
Beth let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Well, isn’t that something.”
She ended the call before hearing more.
For a moment, she stood there—chest rising, lips trembling, hand tightening around the edge of the glass table until her knuckles turned white.
Then she turned.
She didn’t know what she was going to say, or what she was going to do when she got there—but her mind was already made up.
She was going to Brooklyn.
Whether it was to see him, or to see her, or both, she hadn’t decided.
But somebody had disrespected her—and Beth Rowe didn’t take disrespect lightly.