AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ellen shook her head sadly.
“No, Nothing,” she said.
“Send another two dozen fresh-cut dahlias,” I told her. “Same note as the last time”
“I’ll get to that right now,” she said leaving the room.
I glanced up at the clock and realized that the day was quickly slipping away. I had dinner plans with my parents later, but my mind was so consumed with thoughts of Alex that I couldn't focus on anything else.
My parents would be curious about how things were going with her, and I dreaded the inevitable questions. How could I explain what had happened without feeling like a complete failure?
I sighed and rubbed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion settling in. Maybe I could just cancel and tell them I wasn't feeling up to it. But I knew that wasn't the answer.
No, I had to face them and face my mistakes. Maybe they could offer some insight or guidance that would help me win Alex back. Or maybe they'd just listen and offer a shoulder to lean on.
I stood up from my desk, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. The conversation with my parents would be difficult, but it was necessary if I wanted to fix things with Alex.
I stopped at the bakery on my way to my parent's house, hoping that a box of their famous tarts would make up for my general lack of enthusiasm. It was a bribe for my mother. The woman had the sweetest tooth of anyone I knew. Except maybe Alex.
I entered the bakery and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. This place had always been a favorite of my parents, and I couldn't count how many times we'd stopped here for a sweet treat after a family dinner.
But today, everything felt different. The smell of fresh bread and pastries didn't evoke the same joy. I felt listless and disconnected, barely registering the friendly greeting from Rosetta behind the counter.
"Hi there Christian! What can I get for you?" she asked, a warm smile on her face.
I forced a smile and replied, "Just a box of your famous creme brûlée tarts, please. This is for my mom, so maybe add the blue cheese ones as well."
"Coming right up!" she said, grabbing a box from behind the counter. "Any special occasion?"
I shook my head. "No, just the usual."
She wrapped up the sweets and handed them to me with a friendly smile. "Well, I hope your mom enjoys them."
I thanked her and headed out the door, feeling like I was just going through the motions. The tarts felt like a weak gesture in the grand scheme of things.
I pulled up to my parents' sprawling estate, a grand mansion nestled among acres of rolling hills and pristine gardens. Despite their immense wealth, my parents had always been down-to-earth and unassuming, not that their home reflected that.
As I made my way to the front door, I passed the sparkling fountain and perfectly trimmed hedges. The house itself was a stately brick structure, with tall columns flanking the front entrance.
When I knocked on the door, it swung open to reveal my mother, dressed in an elegantly comfortable outfit. She smiled warmly at me and pulled me into a hug.
"Christian, darling, it's so good to see you," she said, holding me at arm's length to look me over. "You look tired, dear. Are you feeling alright?"
I nodded, not wanting to burden her with my problems. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a long day at work."
"Well, come on in and relax," she said, leading me into the grand foyer. "Your father is in the dining room. We just finished our before-dinner cocktails."
The interior of the house was just as impressive as the exterior, with high ceilings and ornate decorations. Despite the opulence, the house felt warm and inviting, with plush rugs and comfortable furniture.
As we made our way to the dining room, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the mirrors we passed. I looked worn out and ragged, and the sight of myself only served to reinforce my feelings of inadequacy.
My father was already seated at the head of the table. The room was lit by a crystal chandelier, and the table was set with gleaming silverware and fine china.
We settled into our seats, and my mother began serving dinner. As always, the food was exquisite—a four-course meal, each course paired with a different wine.
We made small talk as we ate, discussing the latest news and events in our respective worlds. My father talked about his latest business deal, while my mother talked about her charity work.
I tried my best to engage in the conversation, but my mind kept drifting back to Alex. Had she forgiven me yet? Was she even willing to talk to me? The knot in my stomach tightened with each passing moment.
