Chapter 107 The Door Opens
“Fred?” Annabel called from the other side of the door.
The sound of his name, spoken with a simple, questioning lilt, released the tension in his shoulders just enough for him to breathe.
It wasn't Carson.
The adrenaline rush subsided into a heavy, lingering beat in his chest. He took a slow, deliberate step toward the door.
His mind raced.
What did that soft inquiry mean? Was it relief? An urgent plea? Or just a simple check-in? He reached out, his hand hovering over the cold metal knob.
He turned the knob slowly, carefully, the mechanism clicking almost silently.
He pulled the door inward an inch, then two. The sliver of opening showed the pale morning light of the hallway, and then her.
Annabel stood there, still in the thick gray robe, its collar pulled high.
Her dark hair was a mess, and her face, usually so animated, was scrubbed clean of emotion, a blank canvas of weariness. Her hands were tucked into the robe’s pockets.
He opened the door fully and stepped back, inviting her in without a word.
He looked at her, his gaze intense, searching for any sign of what had passed downstairs, but her expression gave away nothing.
She walked in slowly, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet, and he closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
She stopped a few feet into the room, turning to face him. Her eyes, those beautiful, intense eyes, finally lifted to meet his.
“I know you heard the knock,” she said, her voice low, almost a murmur.
He said nothing, simply waiting. The air between them was thick with unspoken questions and residual conflict.
“It was Carson,” she said
“I know,” he replied.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, then it was gone. “You were downstairs,” she observed.
It wasn't a question.
“I was,” he confirmed.
His voice was flat, not wanting to reveal the instinctive impulse that had made him flatten himself against the wall.
He remembered the knot of rage in his stomach and fought to keep his expression neutral.
She took a slow breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the heavy fabric of the robe.
“I thought I’d let you know he’s gone,” she said.
He felt a deep, slow unfurling in his gut, a subtle easing of the tension that had been coiled there since the first knock.
He didn't want to ask the next obvious question, the one that screamed in his mind: Did you let him in?
She seemed to read the question in his silence.
“No, I didn’t let him in,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “We talked in the doorway. It was only a couple of minutes. I don’t want to talk about it with you, but I thought you should know.”
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said.
“I think I should,” she countered, stepping a little closer. “It concerns me, and in a weird way, it concerns this… situation.”
She paused, glancing around the immaculate bedroom as if searching for the right words. “He came all this way to apologize. He gave me a long speech about how he messed up, how his mother was making him crazy, how he missed ‘us’.”
She made air quotes around the last word. “He wanted to come in for coffee. He wanted to talk things out.”
“And what did you say?” he asked, his voice steady, masking the sudden, fierce interest.
She met his gaze, her jaw set. “I told him no,” she said simply. “I told him that he’d said enough. He tried to reach out and touch my arm,”
She shuddered faintly at the memory, “and I stepped back. He was tired and apologetic, all the things that used to work.”
“But they didn’t work this time,” he observed
“No,” she said “They didn’t. He said he still loves me, that he needs me, that he’s sorry.”
“Why not?” he asked.
He knew he shouldn't press, but the question was out before he could stop it, a genuine demand for understanding.
Why was she staying? Why had she chosen the cold war with him over the warm, familiar appeal of Carson?
She looked at him then, a direct, searing look that felt like it pierced through his carefully constructed composure.
“Why not go back to the man who hurt me, the man I know will let me down again?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.
She shook her head, a hint of her characteristic fervor returning. “I’d be a fool, Fred. A complete, total fool. He had his chance. I am not a backup plan. I won't go back to that. I’m moving forward.”
Her words, sharp and final, were a heavy weight falling away from his chest.
An unexpected warmth began to spread through him. He focused on the last part, the finality of her decision.
“That’s… that’s a good decision, Annabel,” he said, nodding slowly.
“It is,” she agreed.
She moved her hands from her pockets, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And I wanted to apologize for being cold lately. I know I have been. Since the other night. It’s been… a lot. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to be around you, how to balance… everything.”
The image of her lips, warm and soft against his, flashed through his mind.
He recalled his subsequent retreat, his coldness that morning. It was time to match her honesty.
“I owe you an apology too,” he admitted. “I handled the aftermath of that… poorly. I let my professionalism get in the way of common courtesy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have withdrawn like that.”
She looked up, a small, genuine smile finally touching her lips.
The tension that had been a vise around his skull loosened another degree.
“Thank you, Fred,” she said.
She took another small step, and this time, she didn't stop. She closed the remaining distance between them, and then she lifted her hand.
Her fingers were warm and soft as they settled over his left hand, the one that still throbbed with the dull burn from the previous day.
The simple contact was a jolt, a current of electricity that bypassed his carefully constructed defenses.
She didn't press, didn't squeeze, simply held him. The contact felt like an acknowledgement, a truce, a moment of fragile peace.
“The apartment feels heavy right now,” she said, her voice a little brighter.
She didn't let go of his hand. She looked past him, toward the window where the early morning light was strengthening. “The city is just starting to wake up. It’s a nice time.”
She turned back, her smile widening a little, her eyes sparkling with a familiar, restless energy.
“Wanna go for a walk?” she asked.