It could easily be said that Xavier had spent more time worrying about this meeting than any other. Lucas had been straightforward. He was to be Xavier, who didn’t know Lucas and would continue to become friendly with the man. There was only one emotion to take care of – anger, which usually was his failing point. It was coiled up and shoved somewhere deep inside himself, waiting to be let out later. If he had to uncoil it once in the privacy of his own apartment, he still did a good job with it.
The problem with Gina was that it wasn’t just anger. There was no doubt that he was furious with her – just as much as he was with Lucas and in a way more so. But her betrayal hit closer to home. He still didn’t know if she’d helped Lucas or was innocent along the way. He’d have liked to believe the latter, but there was the simple fact that she never gave him a chance. He’d never heard seen her or spoken to her since that Christmas Eve twelve years ago. She’d never come to him while in prison or responded to any attempt he made to contact her. It didn’t matter that if he was the Count of Monte Cristo, then she was Mercedes. Mercedes had fought to see Edmond, though had been mislead. This was the modern age – how the fuck had she not been able to reach him?
The answer was simple – she didn’t want to or made an effort to. It was the only answer that made sense after all.
He didn’t get much sleep the night before, spending Friday glancing at the clock and willing time to pass more quickly. Maybe it was his imagination that made this weight worse than his twelve years. At six o’clock he changed, using both physical measures to change himself as well as his illusions. (Sam had taught him that the evening before.) He spent the remaining forty-five minutes on his couch attempting to read the newspaper to distract himself.
At seven o’clock precisely, he headed down the stairs. His hands shook as they trailed down the railing and he wet his lips as he tried to think of how he was greeting her. (Why were his plans falling apart again?) He’d already decided to not be on time – a tad late, just to throw things off a little. If he was uneasy, it would be because he wasn’t on time. He paused at the landing above the first floor, adjusting his slacks and dress shirt one last time, before forcing himself down the final stairs.