A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 31: CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

KYLE

I hadn’t planned to fly to Germany.

Everything was set for Milan—the flight booked, my bags packed, and my mind prepped for the Valenti partnership that could finally solidify my footing in the European market. It was the logical choice, the responsible one. But when boarding began, I found myself frozen in place, staring at the departure gate like it was some kind of prison.

Ashley.

Her name ran through my mind like a haunting refrain, drowning out every strategic thought I’d rehearsed for this deal. Was she okay? Had she made it safely? Was she handling everything on her own, or was she barely holding it together?

And then, before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled out my phone and called Carter.

“Get me on the next flight to Munich,” I said.

“Munich?” Carter’s voice crackled through the line, laced with disbelief. “Kyle, what the hell—”

“Just do it.”

Less than an hour later, I was boarding a flight to Germany, leaving Milan, the Valentis, and my perfectly laid-out schedule behind.

Trading Milan for Germany.

I was truly fucked in the head, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad about it.

But it was worth it.

Ashley hadn’t pushed me away.

I had half-expected it when I opened my arms, expecting her to hesitate, to recoil, to tell me to leave. But she didn’t. She stepped into me, and for the first time in what felt like years, I held her again. It wasn’t a reconciliation, wasn’t an invitation—but it was something. And right now, that was enough.

Now, back in my hotel room. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Mark’s contact. He picked up on the second ring.

“Sir,” he greeted, all business. “Everything set for Milan?”

“Change of plans,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m in Germany.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Germany?”

“Yeah. Something came up. Personal reasons.”

Mark didn’t ask questions—he was too professional for that—but I could hear the slight hesitation in his voice. “So… what’s the plan? The Valentis are expecting you.”

“I need you to go in my place,” I said. “You’ve been looped in on everything—we spent the last two weeks going over the terms, and you know what I want out of this deal. Handle the meetings, smooth things over, and make sure they don’t feel slighted by my absence.”

Mark exhaled sharply. “Sir, this is a huge deal. If they think you’re brushing them off—”

“I’m not.” My tone was firm. “That’s why you’re going. You’re more than capable, and I trust you to represent Blackwood Enterprises the way I would.”

A long pause. Then, finally, “Alright. I’ll take the morning flight.”

“Good.” I leaned back against the desk. “Keep me updated.”

“I will. But…” Mark hesitated. “Are you sure this is the right move?”

No. Probably not. But I wasn’t in the mood to dissect my own decisions.

“Just handle Milan,” I said, before hanging up.

I tossed my phone onto the bed, exhaling slowly.

The logical, responsible version of me—the one who had spent years building my company from the ground up—should be panicking right now. I had just thrown a major deal into someone else’s hands for reasons I couldn’t even fully explain.

But all I could think about was Ashley.

I glanced at the clock. 6:00 PM.

She probably hadn't eaten

Grief did that to people—it hollowed them out from the inside, made them forget the basics: food, sleep, even breathing properly. And Ashley, stubborn as she was, would never admit she needed anything, not even something as simple as dinner.

I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on as I stepped out of my room. Room 342.

Her room.

I hesitated for half a second before knocking. Once. Twice.

Silence.

I knocked again, firmer this time.

A few seconds later, I heard muffled movement inside, then the slow, deliberate turn of the doorknob.

When the door opened, Ashley stood there, barefoot, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing an oversized hoodie that swallowed her frame. Her eyes, tired and red-rimmed, flickered with surprise before settling into something unreadable.

“Kyle?” Her voice was hoarse, like she hadn’t spoken in hours.

I leaned against the doorframe, shoving my hands into my pockets. “You eaten yet?”

She blinked, then exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m not hungry.”

Of course she’d say that.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really care.” I tilted my head. “Come on, let’s go.”

Her brows knit together. “Go where?”

“There’s a place down the street. German food, small family-run spot. Not touristy.” I shrugged. “Figured you’d want something warm.”

She hesitated, her lips parting like she was about to argue. But she didn’t. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and let out a quiet sigh.

“I don’t—”

I held up a hand before she could finish. “Look, I get it. You don’t want to eat, you don’t want to go out, you don’t want to do anything except sit in here and think. But you need to eat, Ash.” My voice softened. “So humor me, okay?”

She studied me for a long moment.

Then, finally—finally—she exhaled and nodded.

“Fine.”

“Great,” I said, stepping back. “Put on some shoes. I’ll wait.”

Ashley disappeared back into her room, and I leaned against the hallway wall, exhaling slowly. The fact that she agreed—however reluctantly—felt like a small victory.

A minute passed. Then another.

I heard faint rustling inside, the sound of drawers opening and closing, and then the soft patter of footsteps approaching the door again.

When she stepped out, she had changed into a pair of jeans and sneakers, her hoodie still hanging loosely around her small frame. 

I pushed off the wall. “Ready?”

She gave a small nod, locking her door behind her.

The elevator ride down was quiet, the kind of silence that felt both fragile and heavy at the same time. I stole a glance at her, noticing the way she hugged herself, her fingers gripping the sleeves of her hoodie. 

I wanted to say something. Something light. Something that might make her feel just a little bit less alone.

Instead, I said, “I’m glad you’re coming.”

She turned her head slightly, studying me. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Kyle.”

“Doing what?”

“Checking on me. Being here.” Her voice was quiet, cautious. “You have bigger things to deal with.”

I let out a short breath, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. I did.” I glanced at her. “Then I got on a plane to Munich.”

She didn’t respond to that. But something flickered in her eyes before she looked away.

When we stepped outside, the crisp evening air wrapped around us, the scent of freshly baked bread and grilled meat drifting from nearby restaurants. The streets were alive but not chaotic—locals finishing their day, tourists taking leisurely strolls.

I led her a few blocks down to the restaurant I had found earlier. It was small, tucked between two larger buildings, with warm lighting and the kind of welcoming atmosphere that didn’t feel overwhelming.

Inside, the scent of rich spices and slow-cooked meat filled the air. The restaurant was cozy—wooden tables, soft yellow lighting, the hum of quiet conversations in German. A woman behind the counter, probably the owner, offered a warm smile as we stepped in.

Ashley hesitated at the entrance.

I nudged her shoulder lightly. “Come on. You survived the trip here. You can survive dinner.”

She shot me a look, but the corner of her mouth twitched—just barely.

Progress.

We found a table near the window, and as we sat, I noticed the way Ashley shifted, tucking her hands into her lap, staring down at the menu but not really reading it.

I tapped the table lightly. “You like schnitzel, right?”

She blinked, glancing up. “Yeah.”

“Good. You’re getting that.” I didn’t give her room to argue, turning to the waiter who had just approached. “Two schnitzels. And a beer for me. Water for her.”

Ashley huffed. “I can order for myself, you know.”

“I know.” I leaned back. “But you weren’t going to.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue.

When the food arrived, she stared at it for a long moment, the steam rising from the crispy golden breading, the side of potatoes still glistening with butter.

I waited, watching as she finally, hesitantly, picked up her fork.

The first bite was small. The second was a little bigger.

By the third, I saw her shoulders relax—just a little.

Neither of us spoke much after that. We just ate, the quiet settling between us like an old companion. And when she finally set her fork down, her plate almost empty, I felt something in my chest loosen.