Chapter 86 86
Kate’s POV
Those were two intense days of shopping to furnish the house to both our tastes. Andrew wanted everything modern and functional: gray leather sofa, dark wood and glass dining table, minimalist designer lamps that lit without glaring. I chose the soft, warm things: large cream-toned cushions, sheer curtains that let the river light filter through, a white crib with a mosquito net for the baby’s room. He smiled every time he approved something, kissed my forehead, and said, “This is going to be our real home.”
The shipment from Lisbon arrived that night. Boxes stacked in the living room, hallways, master bedroom. Andrew was euphoric, ripping open packages, placing books on shelves, hanging our photos on the walls. I moved slowly, organizing the kitchen, folding clothes, feeling the weight of my belly and my swollen feet from so many hours on them.
We ate in front of the new TV—Chinese takeout because neither of us felt like cooking. Kung pao chicken, three-delights rice, spring rolls. We ate on the sofa with plates in our laps, laughing at silly things while the TV played a series.
Finally, we could sleep in our house. In our bed. No staff coming in to clean, no echo of Elliot’s mansion. I felt relief. Deep, physical relief. The tension that had followed me since we arrived loosened a little. I was no longer under the same roof as him. I no longer had to cross paths with him in a hallway, or fear he’d appear at any door—or wish he would.
I could breathe.
The next morning Andrew left early. He had the meeting with Elliot, the lawyers, and the executives. It was the official day of his appointment as CEO.
He kissed my forehead before leaving, wearing that boyish smile he’d regained in recent days.
“Today everything starts, love,” he said. “I’ll be back late, but I’ll call. Rest—don’t keep organizing; we’ll do it together.”
I watched him leave in the suit he’d chosen for the occasion, briefcase in his right hand, the car waiting in the driveway.
It was a good day for him. Professionally, Andrew had just placed himself at the top.
I closed the door and was alone in the new house. The silence here was different: softer, more mine. I started making calls. To the few students I still had in Lisbon. I explained that I was moving permanently, that online classes could continue if they wanted, but I understood if they preferred another teacher. Some said goodbye warmly, others with regret.
Lisbon was slipping away. The life I’d built there, the distance, the safety, the illusion that I could leave Elliot behind—it faded with every “thank you” and “I’m sorry.”
I made the bed, hung some bags, stored all the shoe boxes—Andrew’s in one area, mine in another. Those shoes I missed being able to wear again without my feet swelling or my legs tiring so quickly. I longed to feel my body as mine alone again, no matter how nice it was to have the baby’s company. Lately I felt more exhausted even when I did nothing.
That reminded me I needed to request my medical records from the clinic where I’d been seen during the pregnancy so I could find a new doctor here. I had to schedule a checkup soon.
Mid-morning the doorbell rang. I thought it might be more boxes, or maybe a delivery guy with something Andrew had ordered—after all, I was sure more things from the move were still missing. It couldn’t be Andrew; he’d still be in his “taking possession,” as I called it.
I approached the door. I didn’t look through the peephole. I didn’t think too much. I just opened it.
Elliot.
For a second I froze, as if my body needed a moment to register what my eyes already knew. He was wearing a dark suit. The jacket open revealed a white shirt, top button undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms as if he’d spent the morning doing something more interesting than simply dressing to impress. The pants fell straight over polished black shoes. Too elegant for a casual visit. Too… too much.
Why the hell wasn’t he at the company with Andrew? Had it ended so soon?
The wind had tousled his hair a little, giving him that relaxed look that always seemed so natural on him. His eyes locked onto mine the instant I opened the door. At first he didn’t smile. He just looked. Up and down. Calmly. As if he’d been waiting for exactly this moment for several seconds.
Then that smile appeared. Slow. Just one corner of his mouth lifting, but enough to make my stomach tighten.
“Katherine…” he murmured.
He didn’t even wait for me to say anything. He took a step toward me, invading the doorway space with immense confidence. Before I could react, he tilted his head and kissed my cheek. A brief, warm kiss—too close. His hand rose to my face naturally, fingers brushing my cheekbone in a slow caress that made me close my eyes for an instant without meaning to.
“Good morning,” he added, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
The contact left me breathless for a second. When he pulled back, his hand was still on my face, thumb stroking my skin.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked finally, voice low.
There was something playful in his tone. Not exactly mockery. More like a delicate calm.
I felt my pulse race in my neck. All the relief I’d managed to build the night before vanished in seconds. The baby moved inside me with a strong kick, as if it had felt the tension that had just walked through the door.
I didn’t want him here.
I didn’t want to see him in my house, in this new space that was only just beginning to feel like mine. But the door was already open. And he was already too close.
“Come in,” I said finally.
My voice came out drier than I intended.
Elliot didn’t hesitate. He passed by me, brushing my shoulder just enough that the heat of his body sent a brief jolt down my spine.
I closed the door behind him.
He stood for a few seconds, observing the place with curiosity, as if examining every detail. There were still unopened boxes against the wall. The new furniture occupied the space with the stiffness of a freshly inhabited house. Andrew had hung some photos the night before.
Elliot walked slowly through the entryway, hands in his trouser pockets. His eyes scanned everything with attention.
“Nice house,” he said at last. “You can tell Andrew has good taste.”
The comment stung more than I wanted to admit.
“It’s not just him,” I replied. “I chose a lot of things too.”
He stopped then.
Turned his head toward me.
And looked at me in that direct way that always made me feel exposed, as if he could see through any defense.
“I know,” he said softly. “You’ve always had good taste.”
His gaze dropped for a second to my belly before returning to my eyes. It was a minimal gesture, but enough to form a small knot in my stomach.
I crossed my arms without realizing, trying to create distance that didn’t really exist.
“What are you doing here, Elliot?”
He shrugged with an almost insolent naturalness.
“I came to see you.” He took another step toward me as he spoke. “To see how you were. To see the new house. Last night… I missed your presence at home. It felt very empty. I just wanted to stop by and check on you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I answered quickly. “Andrew isn’t here.”
“I know… I just left him at his new position.”
“Well, it’s not… appropriate for you to come here. We didn’t invite you.”
Elliot tilted his head slightly at that.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t a big smile; it was small. Sad, perhaps. And at the same time dangerously sure.
“Since when do we care about what’s appropriate, Mrs. Ellis?”
The name shivered through me. As always. That “Mrs. Ellis” he used when desire won, when the internal fight became unbearable. I swallowed.
God… Now that I knew what each one meant, every time he said my name I felt my legs weaken more than usual.