The Unwavering Heart That Broke novel Chapter 32

“Don’t talk like that!” Bagot cut in right away, practically spitting the words out. “You’re the last one left in the Adams family, and Nathalie nearly wore herself out saving your life. If something happened to you, she’d be devastated.”

A girl nearby had been listening in, taking in every word.

Lance just gave a low laugh. His almond-shaped eyes were half-closed, shadows playing across his striking face. “She wouldn’t care. She doesn’t understand me. She wants to leave me anyway.”

Bagot was speechless, watching Lance throw back another drink. He sounded helpless as he spoke up again. “Why not let Jasper stay at the Adams Estate? Felice could visit him less. Wouldn’t that make things simpler?”

Lance shot him a look, frowning hard. “Jasper’s already lost his dad. Now you want to take his mom away too? What’s wrong with you?”

Bagot looked completely defeated. “I’m trying to help you and Nathalie. Look at how bad things have gotten. How do you plan to fix this? Are you really going to divorce her?”

Lance just drained his glass without saying a word. Then he stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out.

...

Nathalie felt cold to the bone.

She drifted awake in the old house, confused and shivering. It was late autumn and the night air was biting. Her head felt heavy, throbbing with every movement.

Suddenly, she realized someone was watching her.

Heart pounding, she turned her head and saw Lance sitting on the floor across from her. She had no idea when he’d arrived.

He sat with one knee bent, his other leg stretched out, hand resting loosely on his knee, his gaze fixed on her.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Nathalie shot him an exasperated look, sitting up and wrapping her arms tight around herself.

In the next moment, the man who’d been so still suddenly got up, came over, and sat beside her, pulling her into his arms without warning.

“Lance!” she gasped. His body was burning against her, and she could smell the alcohol on him right away.

“I love you,” he said. His voice was low and raw, and then he pressed his face against her neck, nuzzling closer.

He almost sounded like he was begging.

After eight years together, Nathalie had figured out that a drunk Lance was a version of him she never quite got to see otherwise—one who let his guard down, who was open, needy, absolutely hers. Sometimes, she even coaxed him into having a drink or two, just to feel his love said out loud.

She adored how sweet and clingy he was in these moments. How he actually told her everything on his mind.

Her resolve was starting to crack.

She closed her eyes, trying one last time. “Then promise me you won’t see Felice anymore.”

Lance was silent.

Her heart, already shaking, turned instantly cold again. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I can’t. Felice is taking care of Jasper, and I’m his uncle. I have to look out for him.”