Chapter 237
-HUNTER POV-
48
The morning Celine left for Paris, the house felt too still. The kind of stillness that pressed against your chest, making you aware of every sound….the hum of the refrigerator, the echo of Caesar’s footsteps as he ran around the foyer with his backpack half open. noveldrama
Celine stood by the doorway, her suitcase beside her, the sunlight spilling over her hair. She looked beautiful and nervous, both at once. I wanted to freeze the image: her soft smile, the way her fingers fidgeted with the handle of the suitcase, the quiet pride in her eyes even though I knew her heart was trembling under it.
“Are you sure you have everything?” I asked for the fifth time, pretending to check the pockets of her coat when really, I just wanted to touch her one last time before the airport.
She smiled up at me. “You’ve asked me that five times, Mr. Reid.”
“Make it six,” I muttered. “You forget things when you’re excited.”
“I forget things because you keep hovering over me like a hawk,” she teased.
Caesar came running in before I could reply, waving his little drawing in the air. “Mama, I made this for you!”
He shoved the paper at her–crayon colors everywhere, stick figures holding hands, one small plane flying above. “That’s you going to school!” he said proudly.
Celine crouched down, hugging him so tight that even I had to look away for a second. “It’s perfect, baby. I’ll
take it with me.”
The drive to the airport was quieter than I expected. Caesar sat in the back seat humming a tune under his breath, swinging his legs, while Celine leaned her head against the window, her hand resting over mine on the console. I drove slower than usual, pretending it was for safety, but truthfully I just wanted more time.
When we pulled up to the departure lane, I parked but didn’t move. The clock said she still had time, but I wasn’t ready.
Celine turned to me. “Hunter…”
“I know,” I cut in, forcing a smile. “Just… give me a second.” She nodded, understanding without words. She always did.
We got out, Caesar running ahead to help with the luggage, insisting he could carry something, which meant he dragged her handbag two inches before giving up. Celine laughed and kissed his forehead, then turned to
“I’ll call when I land,” she said softly.
“You better,” I said, trying to sound like myself.
Her eyes softened. “You’ll be fine, you know.”
14:38 Tue, Oct 7
“Define fine,” I murmured, my voice rougher than I wanted.
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She stepped closer, the airport noise fading around us. “You and Caesar will be okay. And I’ll come back before you even notice I’m gone.”
“That’s a lie,” I said, managing a small smirk. “I’ll notice after the first hour.”
Her lips curved. “You’ll survive it.”
She leaned in then, her arms sliding around my neck, and I kissed her…..slow, deep, memorizing the taste of her, the warmth, the way she sighed against me like she didn’t want to let go either. Caesar pretended to gag beside us, which made her laugh against my lips.
“Bye, Mama!” he called as she started walking toward the gate. “Don’t forget to bring me something from Paris!”
Celine waved, her smile bright even with the tears she tried to hide. I stood there with Caesar’s hand in mine, watching her until she disappeared beyond the glass wall.
He looked up at me. “Papa, do you think Mama will miss us?”
I looked down at him, that small serious face, the same shade of eyes as hers. “More than anything, buddy.”
The first few days without her were strange. The house felt too big, every room echoing with silence where her laughter used to fill. Caesar noticed it too. He’d wake up early, come to our room, and climb into bed beside me like he used to when he was smaller.
We fell into a rhythm: breakfast together, me fumbling through pancakes that somehow always ended disaster, Caesar making fun of my “ugly circles,” and then driving him to school. He’d talk about his classmates, how one girl said she liked his shoes, and I’d pretend to be jealous just to hear him laugh.
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Sometimes, after dropping him off, I’d sit in the car for a minute, scrolling through the pictures Celine sent from Paris–art supplies on a desk, a blurry selfie near the Seine, her smile in every single one.
At night, when Caesar was asleep, I’d call her. The video calls became our little ritual. She’d be sitting by her apartment window, hair tied back, paint on her hands, and I’d be half–asleep on the couch with the TV still on.
“How’s my little artist?” I’d ask.
“Tired but happy,” she’d answer. “How’s my CEO?”
“Missing his wife,” I’d say.
Caesar would sometimes wake up and join, waving at the screen, showing her his new drawing or something ridiculous like his toothbrush. Those calls made the distance bearable.
A month later, I found myself sitting on Frederick’s couch, a beer in hand, Vincent across from me, and the
14:38 Tue, Oct 7
243
game playing in the background. It was supposed to be a simple “men’s night, though I was starting to suspect it was more of a “married men escaping responsibilities” club.
“Remind me again why we’re watching a rerun of a match from last week?” I asked, leaning back.
“Because,” Frederick said, “it’s not about the game. It’s about peace.”
“Peace?” Vincent snorted. “You have a pregnant wife upstairs, there’s no such thing as peace.”
Frederick grinned. “Point taken.”
We were halfway through our second drink when Caroline appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair loose, one hand on her belly that hadn’t even begun to show yet. “You three better keep it down. The baby can already sense stupidity.”
Vincent laughed, clapping his hands. “There it is. The voice of authority.”
“Vincent,” she warned, “one more comment and you’ll be sleeping on that couch.”
Frederick leaned toward me. “See? Told you. No peace.” I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. It felt good, the normalcy of it.
After Caroline went back upstairs, Vincent turned serious for once. “How are you holding up, man? You and Caesar doing okay?”
I hesitated. “We’re managing. He misses her. So do I.”
Vincent nodded. “It’s temporary. She’ll be back before you know it.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But you know me. Patience isn’t exactly my strongest virtue.”
Later that night, after I got home, the house was quiet again. I peeked into Caesar’s room–he was sprawled across the bed, clutching the little stuffed lion Celine had bought him when he was two. I adjusted the blanket over him and stood there for a while, watching his chest rise and fall.
It was strange how much he reminded me of her–his curiosity, the way he asked too many questions, the way he smiled when he drew something.
I made my way downstairs, poured a glass of water, and stared out at the city lights through the window. For a moment, I thought about calling her tomorrow. But the moment passed, and I picked up my phone anyway.
She answered on the third ring, her face glowing from the light of her lamp. “Hunter?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said.
“Neither could I,” she admitted. “Too quiet here.”
We talked for hours. About Caesar’s funny stories, about her classes, about the restaurant she’d found that made the best croissants she’d ever tasted. At some point, I lay back on the bed, listening to her voice, her laughter soft through the speaker.
14:39 Tue, Oct 7
“I wish you were here,” I said, half–asleep already.
“I am,” she whispered. “Just not there physically.”
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My eyes grew heavier, her voice wrapping around me like a blanket. “Say something in French,” I murmured.
She laughed softly. “Bonne nuit, mon amour.”
I smiled, my last thought before drifting off. “Whatever that means, I’ll take it.”
**
The next morning, Caesar found me asleep on the couch, the phone still on the call screen. He climbed beside me, poked my cheek, and whispered, “Papa, are you dreaming about Mama again?”
I opened one eye. “Maybe.”
He giggled, wrapping his little arms around my neck. “It’s okay. I miss her too.”
And just like that, my chest loosened a little. Maybe two months didn’t sound so long after all.
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