Chapter 88 #88

Chapter 88 #88
Chapter 88
~Shailyn's POV~

After Dante slept, I left the room to make tea. I stand in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as it boiled. The sound fills the silence, a steady whistle that matches the noise in my head.

"I'm not waiting for him," I say aloud to the empty room. "I'm just making tea."

The kettle clicks off. I pour the water, watching it darken the tea bag.

"Mrs. Shailyn?"

I jump, nearly spilling hot water on my hand. Rosa stands in the doorway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine. I'm just... jumpy today."

"Would you like me to bring that to your room?"

"No, I'll take it here. Thank you, Rosa."

She nods and disappears. I sit at the kitchen island, wrapping my hands around the warm mug.

Footsteps on the stairs. My heart does that stupid flutter again.

Dwayne appears, hair damp from a shower, wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey," he says. "Can't sleep either?"

"I just needed tea."

He crosses to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "Mind if I join you?"

"It's your kitchen too."

He sits across from me, and the silence stretches between us. Not uncomfortable, but charged with something I can't name.

"How are you feeling?" he asks finally. "After everything with Dante today?"

I blink. "How did you..."

"I heard raised voices earlier. Didn't want to intrude."

"We're fine. He was just stressed about work. He explained everything."

"Did he?"

I look up sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just asking." He takes a sip of water. "You seem tense."

"I'm not tense."

"Your shoulders are up by your ears."

I force them down. "I'm fine, Dwayne."

"Okay." He doesn't push, which somehow makes me want to tell him more.

"Hannah got me to agree to see a therapist, Christmas present though." I say, the words tumbling out. "For the memory stuff."

His expression shifts. "That's good. Really good. Are you going to try it out?"

"You think so? I think I might try it out."

"Yeah. It might help. Give you some clarity."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Why?"

"What if I remember things that change everything? What if..." I trail off, not sure how to finish.

"What if the truth is different from what you've been told?"

My breath catches. "Yes."

"Would that be so bad?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Everything feels so fragile right now."

"Hey." His voice is gentle. "Whatever you remember, whatever happens, you're strong enough to handle it."

"You don't know that."

"I do." He leans forward. "I've seen how you handle everything life throws at you. You're stronger than you think."

Tears prick my eyes. "Why do you always know what to say?"

"Because I pay attention."

We sit in silence for a moment. Then my stomach growls, loud and unmistakable.

Dwayne laughs. "Hungry?"

"A little."

"A little? That sounded like a bear."

"Shut up." I'm smiling despite myself. "The babies want food."

"What do the babies want?"

"I don't know. Something warm. Comforting."

"I can make something." He stands, moving to the stove.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to. Sit. Relax."

I watch as he moves around the kitchen with practiced ease. "I didn't know you could cook."

"There's a lot you don't know about me." He pulls out ingredients, pasta, cream, garlic. "But we're working on that."

"Are we?"

"Yeah. We are."

He works in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of chopping and sizzling filling the space. I watch his hands, the way he moves with confidence.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"College. I had to survive somehow without a meal plan."

"Dante never learned."

"Dante had other priorities."

There's something in his tone that makes me look up. "Like what?"

"Being perfect. Being the heir. Being everything Dad wanted him to be."

"And you?"

"I got to be myself. Lucky me."

The pasta comes together quickly. He plates it and sets it in front of me with a flourish.

"Carbonara. Heavy on the parmesan because the babies probably want calcium."

I take a bite and almost moan. His expression shifted slightly. "Oh my God."

"Good?"

"This is amazing. Where have you been hiding this talent?"

"Just waiting for the right audience." He sits back down with his own plate.

We eat in comfortable silence. When I finish, I lean back with a satisfied sigh.

"Thank you. I needed that."

"Anytime."

"I should go to bed."

"Yeah. Me too."

Neither of us moves.

"Dwayne?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For tonight. For listening."

"I'll do anything for you."

The word sits heavy between us. The meaning was so deep and touching 

"Right."

I stand, and he does too. For a moment, we're too close, standing in the middle of the kitchen with nothing between us.

"Goodnight, Shailyn."

"Goodnight."

I turn and walk away, feeling his eyes on me until I reach the stairs.

In my room, I lie in bed next to a sleeping Dante, staring at the ceiling.

My heart is still racing. My thoughts are still tangled.

And the worst part? I'm not thinking about my husband beside me.

I'm thinking about the man downstairs who knows exactly how I take my tea.

\---

Christmas eve morning arrives with the scent of roses.

I open my eyes slowly, disoriented. Then I see them, flowers everywhere. Red roses on the nightstand, white ones on the dresser, pink petals scattered across the floor.

"Merry Christmas in advance baby."

Dante sits on the edge of the bed, already dressed, holding a small wrapped box.

"What is all this?"

"An apology. For yesterday. For scaring you." He takes my hand. "You deserve better than that, Shay. You deserve everything."

Guilt crashes over me like a wave. "Dante..."

"Open it."

My hands shake as I unwrap the box. Inside is a delicate bracelet, silver with tiny diamonds.

"It's beautiful."

"Like you." He fastens it around my wrist. "I know I messed up yesterday. I was stressed and I took it out on you. That's not okay. It won't happen again."

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't. I love you. More than anything." He cups my face. "You're my whole world."

Tears spill down my cheeks.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." He wipes them away. "Pregnancy hormones?"

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

Because the tears aren't about his apology.

They're about the fact that last night, in the kitchen with Dwayne, I felt more alive than I have in months.

They're about the guilt eating me from the inside out.

"I love you too," I whisper. And I mean it. I do love Dante.

So why does it feel like a betrayal to myself?

He pulls me into his arms, holding me close. "We're going to be okay. You, me, and our baby. We're going to be perfect."

Over his shoulder, I see my reflection in the mirror.

And I make a decision.

I have to stop this. Whatever this is with Dwayne, these feelings, these moments, this pull, it has to end.

I'm married. I'm pregnant. I have a life here with Dante.

I can't keep doing this to him. To myself.

Starting now, I'm going to avoid Dwayne completely.

No more late-night kitchen talks.

No more shared moments.

No more anything.

It's the only way to protect my marriage.

The only way to protect myself.

"Merry Christmas in advance, Dante," I whisper against his chest.

"Merry Christmas in advance, baby."

And as he holds me, surrounded by roses and morning light, I promise myself that this time, I mean it.

This time, I'll stay away.