Page 51 of Shattered Throne
"It's not much," I said, suddenly self-conscious. I grabbed a blanket and pillow from the closet and set them on the couch. "Bathroom's down the hall if you need it."
"Thanks." He hesitated. "I don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?"
I did, actually. A two-pack I'd bought on sale, still unopened. I retrieved it from the bathroom cabinet and handed it over, along with a towel.
"There's soap and shampoo in the shower if you want to..." I trailed off, suddenly very aware of what I was offering. XavierDubois, showering in my bathroom, naked in my apartment, with water running over his skin while I sat on the other side of the wall.
"Thanks," he said again. His eyes met mine, and something flickered there. Awareness, maybe. Of the strangeness of this situation. Of the intimacy we were pretending didn't exist.
"Goodnight," I said quickly, and retreated to my bedroom before I could do something stupid.
I closed the door and leaned against it, heart pounding.
A few minutes later, I heard the bathroom door close, the water turn on.
Oh God. He was naked in my bathroom.
I pressed my palms against my eyes. This was fine. This was totally fine. He was just using the shower. Like a normal person. In my apartment. Where I also lived.
The water ran for what felt like forever. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying very hard not to imagine what was happening on the other side of that wall. The steam. The soap. The water running down his chest, his stomach, lower…
I grabbed my pillow and pressed it over my face.
This was going to be a long night.
I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I woke to sunlight streaming through my curtains and the smell of something cooking. I lay there for a moment, confused. Zoe was at Dani's. I hadn't made breakfast. Which meant…
I scrambled out of bed and down the hall.
Xavier was standing at my stove, wearing yesterday's clothes, slightly rumpled now. He was flipping something in a pan, humming softly to himself.
And sitting at my kitchen table, still in her pajamas, was Zoe.
"Mommy!" She spotted me in the doorway. "Mr. Xavier is making pancakes!"
I stared. "How did you—when did?—"
"Dani brought her over about an hour ago," Xavier said, not turning from the stove. "She had a doctor's appointment for Joey. I told her I'd watch Zoe until you woke up."
"He put chocolate chips in them," Zoe added, as if this was the most important information. "And he made a Mickey Mouse one!"
I looked at my daughter, her face bright with joy. At Xavier, comfortable in my kitchen like he belonged there. At the stack of pancakes on the counter, one of them was shaped, somewhat lopsidedly, like Mickey Mouse.
"I hope that's okay," Xavier said. He glanced over his shoulder at me, uncertain now. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked like you needed the sleep."
I didn't know what to say. A man had never made breakfast for me. Not once. Not Cole, not anyone. The simple domesticity of it, the care implied in the gesture, made something ache in my chest.
"It's..." I swallowed. "Thank you."
He smiled. I stood in the doorway and watched them for a moment longer. Zoe was showing Xavier her elephant, explaining its name and backstory. Xavier listened intently, asking questions, treating her imaginary world as if it were as real and important as anything else.
This was what it could have been like. If I'd chosen differently. If Zoe's father had been a man like this—present, engaged, actually interested in his child. If someone had stayed instead of leaving.
Xavier wouldn't have abandoned us. I knew that with sudden, surprising certainty. He might be careless with his own life, but he wouldn't be careless with a child's heart.
"Mommy, come sit down!" Zoe patted the chair next to her. "The pancakes are almost ready!"
I crossed to the table and sat. Xavier set a plate in front of me—two perfect pancakes, golden brown, chocolate chips arranged into a smiley face.
