Dear Ex-Wife Please Be Mine Again (Christina and Alex) novel Chapter 65

Alexander POV.

Christiana was a mess. A beautiful, intoxicating mess. The way she swayed on her feet, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and alcohol, it was clear she was nearing her limit. I watched from across the room, half-amused, half-concerned. She raised her glass again, but before it could reach her lips, her knees buckled.

Without thinking, I was there, catching her before she hit the floor. Her body was light in my arms, and I could smell the faint traces of perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath. She mumbled something incoherent as I lifted her, but the tone was unmistakably drunk.

“I’m fine,” she slurred, trying to wave me off, but I held on tighter, ignoring her weak protests.

"Sure you are," I muttered, carrying her towards the entrance. Her driver was already waiting outside, leaning against the car, oblivious to what had just transpired inside the bar.

For a second, I thought about simply handing her over to him, letting him take her back to her hotel. It was the easy choice. The rational one. But then again, this was Christiana, and trusting anyone else with her in this state wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

“Open the door,” I barked at the driver as I approached. The man, who already knew me too well, nodded without question, opening the back door for me.

I laid her carefully in the back seat, her head resting against the window. She murmured something as I moved to pull away, her fingers brushing against my sleeve.

“You smell so good,” she muttered, barely audible, her words slurred and sleepy.

That hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I paused, the tiniest smile tugging at my lips. For a moment, just a brief, fleeting second, it felt like old times—before the divorce, before everything went sideways. It was soft, sweet, and soothing. A glimpse of her real feelings breaking through the alcohol haze.

My heart tightened. Was that how she truly felt? Underneath all the resentment and anger, did she still see the man I once was? I shook the thought away. This was the alcohol talking, not Christiana.

I slid into the backseat beside her, letting her head fall against my shoulder. The warmth of her cheek on my skin stirred something in me I hadn’t felt in a long time. Her breathing became even, and I glanced down to see her fast asleep.

The driver pulled away from the curb, glancing at us through the rearview mirror but saying nothing. He knew better than to ask questions.

The drive to the hotel was quiet. The city lights blurred outside, but all I could focus on was the weight of Christiana against me. I knew it wasn’t going to change anything between us—hell, she’d probably cuss me out in the morning—but for now, in this quiet moment, it felt like we were back in sync.

We pulled up to the hotel, and I stepped out of the car, scooping Christiana into my arms. She shifted slightly, murmuring under her breath again, but she didn’t wake.

As I made my way inside, her bodyguards immediately stepped forward, their faces tense when they saw her in my arms. They blocked my path, staring at her unconscious form. “Sir, what happened to Mrs. Davis?”

“She’s drunk,” I said calmly, shifting her weight in my arms. “I’m just getting her settled in.”

The guards exchanged glances, clearly hesitant, but they stepped aside. They knew me. They knew our history, and they knew better than to challenge me on this.

Once inside, the hotel suite was a bit dark, the quiet hum of the air conditioning the only sound. The kids were clearly already tucked in for the night. The nanny had probably put them to bed hours ago. Good.

I carried Christiana through the suite and straight to her room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the space. Her breathing was soft and even, her lips parted slightly in sleep.

Setting her down gently on the bed, I stayed for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face. For all the fire and venom she directed my way during the day, in moments like this, she looked so peaceful, so vulnerable.

I couldn’t help but smile, even though I knew this wouldn’t last. Tomorrow, she’d be back to the sharp-tongued Christiana I knew. But for tonight, I was content with this. Just her, asleep, her head resting where it once belonged.

I turned away, pulling the covers up over her before heading out of the room. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

I was just about to leave the room when I heard movement behind me. I stopped in my tracks, turning to see Christiana stirring. She pushed herself up, her face pale, eyes half-open, looking confused and dazed.

“Christiana?” I asked, stepping closer. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she staggered out of the bed, wobbling on her feet. Something wasn’t right. I moved towards her, extending a hand. “Hey, hey. What’s going on? Christiana?”

But before I could get another word out, it happened.

She bent forward, her body convulsing as she vomited. First, it hit the floor, splashing in every direction. The smell of undigested food and stale alcohol hit me like a freight train. Then, with horrifying precision, it splattered all over my shirt. The warm, chunky mess dripped down my chest as I froze, trying to process what just happened.