Page 19 of Xander

Chapter

Seven

JORDAN

I dreamt I was in college. It was finals week, and I realized I had enrolled in a five a.m. Algebra class that I had blown off all quarter. I was desperately flipping through my textbook, trying to take in whatever I could, but the faster I turned through the book, the more the pages blurred. Someone was laughing, and my throat went tight with panic⁠—

And then the floor fell out from under me like cracking ice. My eyes shot open. I wasn’t in college. Not anymore. I was a thirty-seven-year-old woman lying on a mattress that cost as much as a car.

I could hear low male voices from downstairs—it was probably what woke me up. One of them was my husband’s.

Henry—Xander—the disastrous dinner last night—fuck.

I rubbed my temples. This was Xander’s first visit since the wedding, and it was going terribly. The tension escalated last night, thanks to Henry’s jabs. If his father’s many slights bothered him, Xander hid it well.

How could they be arguing again? It had barely been twelve hours.

I got unsteadily to my feet, and the comforter dragged from my lap to the floor. It tangled around my feet as I awkwardly stepped over it.

By the time I changed into my new pedal pushers and marched downstairs, I heard the distinct sound of the front door slamming shut. Xander was in the dining room, gulping down a bottle of cold water. He was in joggers and a white T-shirt that clung to his chest with sweat. His damp, dark hair was sticking to his forehead. I guess he still liked to run in the mornings.

My mouth went dry when he unexpectedly lifted his shirt to wipe his face and neck with it, revealing a set of stone-hard abs. I found myself intruding on his semi-private moment and wished I had announced myself sooner. I considered making a run for it when his gaze landed on me, green eyes bright and alert.

“Morning,” he said.

Caught red-handed, I gave him a plastic smile. “Umm… Morning.” My pitch was higher than usual. I was at eye level with his torso, trying very hard to ignore his bare chest and the V-shaped slopes running along his sides.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, drawing out the syllables with an insinuation I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

The awkward smile vanished from my face. I nervously swallowed as I struggled to maintain eye contact. We were playing some sort of nonverbal game, only I didn’t know the rules.

I inhaled deeply to clear my mind and breathed in the scent of masculine sweat strong enough to make someone lightheaded.

“G-good.”

His gaze rested on my face as if trying to memorize every detail. The intense stare made me feel charged. He had always unsettled me, and the smug satisfaction on his face said he knew it, too.

To my relief, Xander pulled his shirt down, and I stepped back as if I’d been doused in a bucket of cold water.

“Have you seen your father this morning?”

Something in his expression shifted at the mention of Henry. He nodded. “I saw him on his way in. He changed, then left for the office.”

He didn’t even bother saying hello.

I bit my lip, trying not to feel the hurt that threatened to pierce my heart with little thorny vines. This shouldn’t be a surprise, not really.

“Oh.” My voice sounded like a frog was caught in my throat.

My gaze landed on the empty dining table. It was almost lunchtime, and breakfast had long concluded. I inwardly cursed myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept away the morning.

“What do you want for lunch?” I should make his favorite to make up for last night’s dinner and for making him eat alone at breakfast.

“Nothing homecooked. Let’s go out.”

“Go out?” The thought of leaving the confines of this house sounded foreign. I barely left the premises. There were always projects around the estate Henry needed me to attend, and he got upset if I left without ample notice. “I’m not dressed to go out.”

Xander eyed my pedal pushers and peplum blouse. “When was the last time you left the house?”