King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, 4)

When it rained, it poured.

Apparently, bad news didn’t observe the holidays, because after I returned to the office, I’d gotten slammed with crisis after crisis. Jillian had checked into Perry’s parting warning about Asher and found a video of Asher and Vincent DuBois getting into a fistfight. It hadn’t hit the wider internet yet, and I’d spent a good two hours ensuring it never would.

Once I put out that fire, I’d had to deal with panicked calls from a CEO who’d been caught banging a restaurant hostess in a bathroom stall, a movie star who’d been arrested for attacking a paparazzo, and a socialite who’d left her limited-edition Dior bag somewhere between Paris and New York (I’d redirected her to her assistant. I didn’t get paid enough to hunt down transatlantic luxury bag losses).

It was my busiest workday of the year, and by the time I caught my breath, it was ten at night. I’d sent Jillian home hours ago, so it was just me, a sad dinner of instant ramen, and the ominous countdown to midnight.

Two hours.

I swallowed a mouthful of greasy noodles. My migraine had worsened since lunch, but that didn’t stop me from doom scrolling on social media to avoid thinking about Xavier.

Yesterday, his presence had filled the room. Today, the office felt empty without him, like a film stripped of its soul.

One hour and forty-five minutes.

I gave up eating and tossed the remaining cold noodles in the trash. I’d finished my work, so why was I here instead of at home, enjoying a nice movie with a glass of wine?

Because the Empire State Building is a twenty-minute walk away.

Because going home means you’ve made your choice.

Because this is the last place you saw him, and you feel closer to him here than anywhere else.

I groaned and dug the heels of my palms against my eyes.

If only I had a magic eight ball to tell me what to do. I’d always prided myself on my decisive nature, but when it came to Xavier, I was a mess.

He drove me up the wall sometimes, but he challenged me like no one else did. He pushed me outside my comfort zone while making me feel safe enough to do so, and he’d made me laugh, cry, and feel more than anyone else I’d ever met.

Younger me had been convinced that what I’d had with Bentley was love, but it wasn’t until Xavier that I realized Bentley had been a mere prologue to the real story.

Me and Xavier, the most unlikely of couples. Opposites in so many ways, yet similar in so many others. He knew every part of me intimately—mind, body, and heart—and he loved me not despite but because of my flaws.

We’d seen each other at our worst, yet we’d fallen in love anyway.

A marble fist grabbed my chest and squeezed.

There’s no catch. Believe it or not, not everyone is out to get you all the time. Caroline’s voice wormed its way into my consciousness.

I never thought there’d be a day when she said anything helpful, but sitting there alone, in my dark office, while the man I loved waited for me minutes away, her words struck hard.

There’s no catch.

I was afraid it’d hurt more if Xavier and I broke up down the road, after I’d gotten more attached, but I was already in love with him, and it already hurt so much I couldn’t think straight. I’d cried for the first time in my life, and I was eating instant ramen alone in my office at night, for Christ’s sake.

The same office where we’d met.

The same office where he’d given me the ultimatum.

The same office where I’d told Georgia the truth about Bentley. I thought I’d broken free of the hold Bentley’s betrayal had on my decisions, but clearly I hadn’t. I was still so afraid of getting hurt that I was willing to let a hypothetical scenario drive away the one man that I could see myself having a future with.

Don’t run away from what could be because you’re afraid of what might be.

If I were honest with myself, I knew we could work. Xavier was the only one who got me, who fit into my life seamlessly yet somehow made it better, and without him, all my days would be like this.

Lonely, alone, and aching for something I could’ve had but let slip through my fingers.

“God, I’m an idiot,” I breathed.

My body made the decision a split second before my brain did. I grabbed my coat and rushed out the door before I’d truly processed what I was doing. I just knew that I had to get to the top of the Empire State Building. Right now.

Luckily, the late hour meant I didn’t have to wait for the elevator to stop on every floor during the ride down. I had plenty of time to—

The lights flickered once, and the elevator came to a shuddering halt. The panel display flashed to 4 and stayed there.

“You’ve got to kidding me.”

In all my years of working in the building, I’d never once had an elevator issue. The universe must be punishing me for my earlier indecision because there was no freaking way this was a coincidence.

I jabbed furiously at the lobby button again. Nothing.

I checked my phone. No service, and it was down to the last two percent. I’d been so caught up with work that I’d forgotten to charge it.

Dammit.

My only remaining option was to press the emergency button and pray that 1) someone was on call this late at night during the holidays, and 2) help got here quickly.

After a seemingly interminable wait, a gruff voice answered my call and promised me help was “on the way.” He didn’t respond to my requests for an exact time estimate.

I paced the tiny metal box and checked my watch again. 10:30 p.m. That was fine. Even if the rescue crew took an hour, I’d make it to the Empire State Building before midnight.

God, I hoped it didn’t take them an hour.

Someone somewhere out there must’ve heard my prayers, because two technicians showed up twenty minutes later and got me out. I stayed just long enough to thank them before I was off again.

11:05 p.m.

The late December air was a welcome breath of cold after the claustrophobia-inducing elevator, and I made it all the way to Thirty-Fourth Street, where the Empire State Building was located, before I came to a screeching halt. Metal barricades lined both sides of the street, preventing me from crossing. I’d seen them on my way here and assumed they’d end before I reached my destination; clearly, I’d been wrong.

I approached a nearby police officer and forced a polite smile. “Hi, can you tell me what’s going on?” I gestured at the maddening makeshift fortress. “I’m trying to get to the Empire State Building.”

“Annual Snowflake Parade.” The bored-looking officer jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Whole avenue’s shut down. If you want to go to the other side of the street, you gotta go around.”

I stifled a groan. How had I forgotten about one of the city’s worst traditions? I’d assumed the crowds were your typical tourists flocking to the city for the holidays, but no, it was a whole parade for a completely uninteresting natural phenomena.

“Go around where?”

He told me, and I almost cursed out loud when I calculated how long it’d take me to reach the closest open cross street.

The building was right there. I could see it glittering across the way, its spire piercing the night sky. It would take me at least forty minutes to get there via the alternate route—maybe more, considering the crowds—but I had no choice; the parade had started, and there was no way I’d make it over the barriers without being tackled by a member of NYPD’s finest.

Instead of wasting more time by arguing, I turned and booked it toward uptown. I wasn’t a mathematician, but even I knew that three-inch heels plus throngs of slow-moving, selfie-taking loiterers did not equal speed or comfort.

When I reached the cross street, I was sweaty, frazzled, and wheezing for breath.

New Year’s resolution: do more cardio. Yoga and Pilates had not prepared me for trekking through the city in Manolo Blahniks.

The other side of the avenue was equally as crowded, but at least I didn’t have to clear an entire parade. Whoever came up with the concept of parades in general deserved to be shot.

I elbowed my way past the crush of people. Halfway through, someone slammed into me so hard my teeth actually rattled. I looked up, ready to rip the guy a new one.

Green eyes, brutally handsome face. He looked oddly familiar, enough so that it gave me pause, but he disappeared before I had the chance to say a single word.

It was just as well. I didn’t have time to get into it with a stranger, no matter how rude he’d been.

11:47 p.m.

I picked up my speed and nearly knocked over a woman in a white snowflake hat.

“Hey! Watch it, blondie!” she yelled.

I ignored her. Cars, people, and shop windows blurred until I finally, finally reached the Empire State Building’s entrance.

11:55 p.m.

I sped through the security process and prayed the elevator here, at least, worked properly.

11:58 p.m.

The sleek glass lift whisked me up to the eighty-sixth floor. Up, up, up, so fast my ears popped, and then…

I was there.

Midnight.

I spilled onto the outdoor observation deck, my skin drenched in sweat and my heart pounding hard enough to break my ribs. Normally, I’d be self-conscious about the way I looked right now, but that wasn’t the most important thing.

The most important thing was finding Xavier.

I scanned the deck. It was nearly empty, and for good reason. The heaters were no match against the wind, which whipped against exposed skin with vicious ferocity, and the cold was so biting, it gnawed through layers of wool and cashmere to burrow deep within my bones.

My breaths formed tiny white puffs as I circled the outdoor space. My face was numb after one lap, but that didn’t compare to the ice trickling through my veins after the second check.

He wasn’t here.

He’d either left—or he’d never showed up at all.

I stopped somewhere between the exit and the edge and stood there, shivering. I was so tired I was surprised my legs still worked, and the blanket of city lights beneath me took on a surreal quality, like scattered stardust waiting for a wish.

If you don’t show up, I’ll know what your answer is.

I’d gotten here exactly at midnight. If Xavier had left after the hour, I would’ve seen him. Had he gotten held up or left early for an emergency?

No. If he said he’d be here, he would—unless he’d changed his mind.

I didn’t blame him. If I were him, I’d change my mind too because why would anyone…why would they…

A sob racked the air.

I’d never heard such a thing claw its way out of my throat, and it took me a minute to recognize the sound came from me.

Once the first one escaped, the rest followed, and I could no more stop them than a sand wall could stop a tsunami.

Sunday night, I’d cried silent tears, but there was nothing silent about these. They were guttural, chest-heaving sobs, the type that echoed across the deck and made the very air tremble with sympathy. They would’ve been humiliating had anyone seen me, but at this point, I didn’t care.

I’d fucked up my relationship with the only man I’d ever truly loved, and I had no one to blame but myself.

“Luna.”

Another sob shook my shoulders. I pressed a fist to my mouth, but the sound bled through anyway, and when I squeezed my eyes shut, I could feel the phantom of Xavier’s warmth brushing my back.

It was worse than the cold because it wasn’t real; it was my mind conjuring things to torture me.

“Luna.”

I needed to get out of here. If I stayed here for a second longer, I’d either freeze to death or lose my mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

It’s not him. It was a figment of my imagination, and—

Firm hands grasped my arms, turning me around, and there he was. Inky black hair falling carelessly over his forehead, full mouth sculpted with concern, eyes that carved a trail of warmth through my frozen tears as they examined me.

He was still holding me. His body heat seeped through my clothes, and another set of shivers rippled down my spine—this time from warmth, not the cold. Perhaps my mind could evoke sounds and images and sensations, but it couldn’t create this: the total, all-encompassing peace that I felt only when I was with him.

Not a figment. He was real. I cried harder.

“Hey.” Alarm brightened his gaze. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He rubbed away one of my tears with a gentle thumb. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“I thought you’d left.” I hiccupped, embarrassed but too relieved to do anything about it.

Understanding dawned on Xavier’s face. “There was an old couple here earlier. One of them fell, so I helped them downstairs. I sent you a message in case you showed up while I was gone.”

“My phone died.” I hiccupped again. “I forgot to charge it.” “Ah.” Xavier’s voice hoarsened as he pulled me toward him.

“I’m here, Luna. I didn’t leave. I’m here.”

His words should’ve reassured me, but they threw the floodgates wider. I buried my face in his chest as years of pent-up emotion poured out.

Every fear, every frustration, every heartbreak. They’d waited a lifetime to break free, and once they did, they didn’t stop until every last drop of moisture had evaporated and I sagged against Xavier, emptied and exhausted.

Throughout it all, he held me, even when I ruined what was probably a very expensive sweater and made a general mess of myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said through a lingering sob. “I didn’t…when I…” I wasn’t the type for heartfelt speeches or flowery prose, and it was a testament to how well Xavier knew me that he didn’t need either of those things to understand what I was trying to say. “You don’t have to apologize. I know.” His arms tightened around me. “All that matters is you’re here.”

I lifted my head, my heart aching as I looked at the man who’d always been there for me, in one way or another, since he entered my life.

“I love you,” I said quietly. I’d said the words before, many years ago, but this time they felt different. This time, they felt right. “I’m sorry it took me so long to admit it, and I’m sorry for pushing you away. I just…” My voice dropped even lower. “I’m scared.”

I liked structure and routine. My life was built around the safe harbor I’d constructed for myself since I broke up with Bentley, and what Xavier and I had was completely uncharted waters. They could either take us to the greatest place we’d ever seen or toss us over a hundred-foot cliff with no life raft.

“I am too, but that’s what makes this worth it.” He pushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes, his touch impossibly tender. “Life would be pretty boring if we knew what was going to happen every day.”

I sniffled. “Actually, that sounds wonderful. I would love that.”

“Well, you color coordinate your office supplies, so I’m not surprised.”

My watery laugh chased away some of the heaviness. “Smartass.”

“I’m guessing that’s one of the things you love about me.” Xavier gave me one of those crooked, dimpled smiles I loathed and adored so much. “And your dedication to making sure your green highlighters are always lined up to the left of the blue ones is one of the things I love about you.” He dipped his head, pressing his forehead against mine. “Love isn’t about perfection, Luna; it’s about imperfect people creating their own version of happily ever after. And while I don’t know everything, I do know this: Every version of my happily ever after will always include some version of you.”

Fresh tears welled in my throat. Oh, God. I’d spent twentysomething years unable to cry, and now I couldn’t stop.

Xavier leaned in to kiss me, but I pulled back in an uncharacteristic bout of self-consciousness. “You don’t want to kiss me right now. I’m a mess.”

I purposely avoided looking at my reflection in a nearby glass pane, but I knew what I’d find—swollen eyes, red nose, mascara tracks running down my face and hair matted with sweat. Not exactly kissing material.

Xavier framed my face with his hands, stilling me. “I always want to kiss you, and you’re perfect exactly the way you are.”

If he were anyone else, I wouldn’t have believed him, but when his mouth touched mine, every other thought melted away. The wind, the half-dried tears, the fucking journey I took tonight to get here…none of that mattered as I twined my fingers through his hair and returned his kiss with abandon.

Everything I’d gone through was worth it for this moment. And yeah, a couple kissing on the top of the Empire State Building after their big reconciliation was such a movie cliché, but like I said…

Sometimes, the rom-coms got it right.