Page 34 of Deepest Obsession


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Smiling, I kiss him lightly. But I don’t reply. What am I supposed to say? That I’d love to wake up with him every morning? That I’m afraid he’s going to break my heart? That I want him but hate him at the same time?

He doesn’t seem to need an answer, though. He just holds me, running one hand through my hair. His eyes close again, a faint smile on his lips.

“When are your meetings?” I mumble, just as there’s a knock on the door. I jump, but he holds onto me.

Glancing at the clock, he says, “I have time,” before sliding out of bed. He grabs a bathrobe and ties it tightly before answering the door.

An older woman pushes past him with a cart full of food, grinning at him and stopping short when she spots me. Anna.

“My, my,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “I was beginning to think the two of you would never get back together.”

“Good morning, Anna,” I say with a smile. It warms my heart that she recognizes me. But I guess I saw her nearly every day when Alexander and I were dating.

“Alexander, I love you dearly. You know that. But if you break her heart again, I’ll see to it personally that all of your meals are under-seasoned and bland.” Then Anna turns to me. “Darling, I’m so glad to see you. I won’t bug you now, but I’d love for you to stop by the kitchen sometime so we can catch up.”

“Will do.” My heart squeezes, and I wrap one of the blankets around me. Without Alexander here, it’s cold.

“All right, you two enjoy. Just text me if you need anything, Alexander.” With that, she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Alexander wheels the cart to the bed. There are two plates with pancakes stacked high, little bowls with berries, and two mugs of steaming coffee. He hands me the one with cream, taking the black one for himself.

“Is there sugar in this?” I say, letting the coffee warm my hands.

He nods. “I told her how you like it.”

Fucking hell. He’s not making it easy to keep my emotional distance.

“Thank you,” I murmur, sipping on my coffee. It’s perfect.

We eat in silence, sitting on the edge of bed. The food is delicious, reminding me of the breakfasts Anna would make Alexander and I after we’d meet up for our early Saturday morning runs.

Smiling, I think about how he always made sure I drank enough water and always slowed down when I couldn’t keep up with him.

He was stoic and unreadable to everyone else. But when he was with me, he treated me like I was the most precious thing on earth.

“What are you thinking about?” Alexander says with a mouthful of berries.

“Oh—uh, just how I fell asleep so early. Sorry.”

“You needed it.” He brushes some hair behind my shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

I stare at him for a second too long before turning back to my food. This isn’t the man who invaded my life and won’t let me go. This is the boy who was willing to do anything to make me happy.

That boy deserves a fair chance.

Biting my lip, I risk a glance at Alexander, only to find him watching me. That mysterious look is back on his face again.

“Either stop looking at me like that, or tell me what you’re thinking.” My voice comes out softer than I meant.

He looks away, and I feel a twinge of disappointment. Because I know what I want that look to mean, and while I want it, it scares the hell out of me.

We finish breakfast, and Alexander has to leave pretty quickly. My heart doesn’t want him to go, but my mind is happy for the space.

He kisses me goodbye, clutching at my waist, and when he pulls away, I can see pain in his eyes. He doesn’t want to hold back. Honestly, I’m confused why he is. It goes against everything he’s done over the past week or so.

Once he’s gone, I get to work, cuddling under the blankets with my laptop. It doesn’t take me long to get into a groove, and soon Alexander is the last thing on my mind. He texts me sometime around eleven, letting me know that his meetings are running late, and that he won’t be back until later in the afternoon.

Most of me is relieved. It gives me more time to work, and I really can’t afford to put off writing today.

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