Page 84 of A Sinful Gravity

That look was different from before. Not the possessive glare, but something satisfied and cautious, like he was afraid of startling something.

He glanced at me, then away. Took a sip of wine.

"Does it always rain in London winters?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and husky with a hint of self-mockery.

"I remember one winter in Washington, it rained for two weeks straight. I'd sit in my study, staring out the window, thinking you'd push the door open any second and ask if I wanted hot cocoa."

He paused, shook his head with a bitter smile.

"That's when I realized I didn't even know what kind of cocoa powder you liked, or how many sugar cubes you took. I was a total bastard back then, Luna."

My fingers tightened on my wine glass. This raw confession hit harder than any fight.

"London rains a lot, but the air's crisp and cold—it keeps me sharp," I said, steadying myself, sipping the wine as its bite spread on my tongue.

"These six years," he went quiet for a beat, then spoke softly. "I've been thinking about you the whole time."

My hand paused on the fork.

"At first, yeah, I wanted you back," he went on, staring at his untouched steak. "But later, it was wondering what you were up to, if you were okay. If you were dancing, and who was watching."

He looked up, eyes rimmed red. Didn't give me a chance to cut in.

"That first year, I was a mess. Dumped company stuff on the VP, locked myself in the house drinking... almost tanked the whole business. Chloe came over and called me a loser. I listened, didn't argue. She was right."

I set down my fork and met his gaze. "Cassian..."

Candlelight danced on his face, brightening his eyes.

"Then I started getting out. Buried myself in work till I was too wiped to think. Thought that'd fix it, time heals all."

He let out a short, bitter laugh.

"But no dice. Every night, back home, in bed, it was all you."

I looked down at my pasta. I hadn't pictured his years like this.

"Marco told me he saw you perform in London. Wish I'd gone," he said. "He said you lit up the stage. That was the real you. The whole place stood and clapped, him too."

He met my eyes, sadness thick in his.

"But I never watched you dance."

That hit my heart with a soft tremor.

"I never thought about what you liked, what you wanted. Figured you were just my wife, forgot you were your own person."

He paused.

"Later, I hunted down videos of your shows. Giselle, Swan Lake. Watched 'em over and over. You do glow on stage. Totally different from at home."

He finished in a rush, eyes dead serious on me.

"Luna. I'm sorry. I've said it a bunch, but this time, beyond everything else, it's for never really seeing you."

I didn't know what to say, so I just mumbled dryly. "It's in the past. Cassian, I'm good now."

This guy, six years ago, never talked like this. Just ordered, expected obedience.