Was she okay? Was she alone in that big house, dealing with whatever medical issues she'd been hiding? Had he been too harsh that night, sending her away right after...?
His stomach clenched at the memory. The way he'd treated her, the cold brutality of their encounter, it went against everything he'd been raised to believe about how you treated someone you cared about. Even if you were angry, even if you were hurt, you didn't use sex as a weapon.
Is she taking her medication? Has she been eating? The questions came unbidden, and he hated himself for caring. She didn't look good during her presentation. Tired. Stressed. Are those shadows under her eyes because of me?
"Ahhh..." He slapped his palm against the stone wall, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from his spiraling thoughts. He wanted to reach into his skull and physically remove every thought of Victoria Sharp, wanted to flip a switch and turn off the part of his brain that refused to let her go.
He admitted it, he was worried about her. Desperately, pathetically worried. What was he supposed to do with that? What was he supposed to choose, the love that had defined him for so long, or the hate that felt safer, more controllable?
His hand brushed against something in his pocket, and he pulled out a small card he'd forgotten was there. Victoria's neat handwriting stared back at him: Another day to be productive. Choose what will be profitable and watch as things fall into place. Heart, Tori.
The note had come with the gifts she'd sent to him, another piece of evidence of her inexplicable kindness. James crumpled the paper, ready to throw it into the snow, something held him back. Instead, he found himself smoothing it out and tucking it back into his pocket.
Why do I keep this? He shook his head at his own stupidity. Why do I look forward to her gifts like some lovesick teenager?
James left intending to return to the conference when on his way he saw Victoria standing along the long hallway, looking like she'd been searching for him. In the soft light filtering through the windows, she looked younger somehow, more vulnerable than the confident businesswoman who had commanded that stage.
The memory of their last night together hit him like a physical blow; the way he'd taken her, used her, treated her like she was nothing. Shame and self-loathing rose in his throat like bile, and he couldn't bear to look at her.
He closed his eyes and tried to walk past her, but Victoria wasn't going to let him escape that easily.
"You know there's no reason for you to walk off like you didn't see me."
Her voice stopped him in his tracks, and then she was talking, really talking, pouring out words that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her. James stood frozen, unable to respond, unable to think beyond the fact that she was there, so close he could smell her perfume, so close he could see the way her breath misted in the cold air.
He wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull her against him and bury his face in her hair and apologize for everything, for that night, for his cruelty, for the way he'd let indignation and anger poison his mind thoroughly.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could only stand there like a statue while she laid her heart bare, and by the time his brain caught up with his emotions, she was already walking away.
The words echoed in the silence long after she disappeared, and James felt something inside him crack clean through. It felt like she'd taken a piece of him with her, something essential that he'd never get back.
He stood alone on that patio for a long time, the snow beginning to fall around him, and knew with crystal clarity that he was at a crossroads. His instincts screamed that this was it, his last chance to choose between the love that terrified him and the hate that was slowly consuming him from the inside out.
His heart throbbed in his chest, broken and bruised but still beating, still fighting for the woman who had just walked out of his life. He pressed his palm against his ribs, trying to steady his breathing, trying to find some equilibrium in the chaos of his emotions.
When he finally made his way back to the conference, he moved through the motions of networking and saying goodbye to important contacts like an automaton. Gaia chattered beside him about the success of his presentation, but her voice seemed to come from very far away.
That night, sleep eluded him completely. He stared at the ceiling of his room, his mind replaying every moment of their encounter, every word Victoria had said, every opportunity he'd let slip through his fingers.
Three weeks later, James sat in his office, staring at the invitation list for his company's official launch luncheon. It was the first week of February, and after days of deliberation, he'd made his decision.
The past weeks had been a marathon of soul-searching, of weighing his options and confronting the truths he'd been avoiding. Their journey together hadn't been perfect. They'd hurt each other, made mistakes, let pride and fear drive wedges between them that sometimes seemed insurmountable.
But it was their journey. Their story. Messy and complicated and real in a way that nothing else in his life had ever been.
Victoria's name was already on the list, written in his own careful handwriting. Whatever happened next, whatever she decided to do with the olive branch he was extending, at least he would know he'd tried. At least he wouldn't spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been.
He sealed the invitation in its elegant envelope, his heart hammering against his ribs as he prepared to take the biggest gamble of his life. Love or hate, he'd finally chosen his side.