The inner voice mocked his thoughts.
What will happen when your time is up? He dragged in a breath.
He never intended on staying.
He had commitments to a company who’d given him a chance to make his dreams come true. Yet, the woman who’d haunted his memories and dreams was here in New York. And lately, he felt more comfortable wearing a waiter’s uniform than a Prada suit.
It was as if a fork in the road opened before him.
He ached to claim her again. Give himself to her as fully as she’d given of herself years ago. If he used the time wisely, he may discover if something remained from the ashes of the relationship.
Hell, Phoenix rose from the debris. Maybe so could they.
Except she deliberately wrote that review with one intention: to destroy him, and Mia Casa.
The primitive in him roared at the injustice of her act the same time he ached to bury himself between her thighs. He was betting he’d be able to convince her to write the second review, but at what cost? If he had to end up choosing between his family’s legacy and the lost love of his life, what decision would he make? The questions whirled in his head and made his temples pound.
Andy and Elaine were due home soon, and his gut told him to disappear.
Emotions ran deep this evening, and when Miranda woke, she’d be forced to deal with them.
He needed to give her the time and space. Maybe he’d have a plan put together to get everything he wanted.
Two days. He’d wait two days, and then he’d call her.
Gavin checked on the sleeping toddler, washed up, and left.
… Miranda juggled two grocery bags and kicked the door shut behind her.
She dumped the bags and wrinkled her nose. Huh.
Her apartment smelled quite…fragrant.
Oh, crap.
She widened her eyes at the sight of dozens of roses. Scattered on tables, glass countertops, even her bookcase.
Brilliant colors blended together in a dazzling array, making her blink to test the reality of the image.
Damn. Gavin Luciano struck again.
Miranda grumbled under her breath and stomped to the refrigerator. The man didn’t know when to stop.
After the night they spent at Andy’s, she woke to find him gone. Asshole. He had that move down like an expert. It was just like him to begin breaking down some of her barriers, and then take off for greener pastures when the impulse struck. At least she knew she was done this time.
One hundred percent over him. She craved stability and peace. Gavin dumped her life upside down and shook out the contents.
She prepared for his call the next day and pumped herself up to give him the kiss-off speech of the century.
But he never called. She threw a bag of lettuce, apples, and cheese into the crisper, and squirmed.
The man waited two whole days to contact her, then acted outraged when she told him she never wanted to see him. Again.
Miranda took out the Ginseng tea, along with the honey chamomile, to hopefully help her sleep.
Any other man would accept her decision and move on. Not Gavin. So he’d started with the gifts.
First candy. He must have bought out every Godiva truffle in Manhattan, in every size, shape, and flavor. She took one box home and gave the rest to her coworkers. At least he remembered her weakness for chocolate.
Not that it mattered.
Then the music. An iPod filled will all of her favorite songs, all with a theme.
Romance and forgiveness.
The man even slipped in Barry Manilow—her secret passion.
Now flowers.
She peeked into the living room and gazed at the sensual beauty filling up every space. She adored roses.
Who cared that he was good at remembering what a woman liked? Probably a talent he used to seduce females into his bed. Their relationship was over, and roses and candy and music did not make up for the past. She filled the kettle and began to settle into her evening tea when the bell rang. Another delivery? Great.
She trashes his restaurant, and he sends her flowers.
Sounded like a bad country song. She flung open the door.
“Why won’t you take my calls?”
Miranda crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“How’d you get those roses in my apartment without a key?”
“I know people.”
“Great. Mafia florists.”
He brushed past her and walked in. She closed the door in resignation. “Gavin, what do you want?”
“I want to know why you won’t talk to me. I thought we connected at Andy’s.”
She arched a brow. “We connected so much you stumbled to the door in a haste to get away. When things get emotional, you leave. You’re the same man you were before, and I was a fool to forget. You can only be involved with a woman if you’re completely in control of the situation.”
Understanding dawned on his face. He groaned and rubbed his temple.
“Ah, shit, now I know why you’re so mad.
It’s because I left before you woke, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
Gavin swore under his breath. “I can’t believe this.
For the first time in my life, I try to do the right thing and I fuck up. Miranda, I thought you’d want some space. I decided to leave because I didn’t want to push, and when Andy and Elaine came back I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”
She stared at him warily.
“Is that why you didn’t call?”
He nodded. “I wanted to give you two days. I figured it was a good time for you to come to terms with rebuilding this relationship. I wanted to text or call, but I thought you needed time.”
Suddenly drained, her shoulders slumped. She sat down on one of the counter stools. “I can’t do this anymore, Gavin.”
Was that a flicker of fear on his face? Probably just a trick of the light. “Do what, baby?”
“Something happened at Andy’s. I felt—I felt almost as if I was discovering you all over again. Part of me wanted to surrender, and the other part knew I could never trust you.”
He took the stool next to her. His voice was gentle was he spoke.
“I’m different, Miranda. We’re different.”
The woman she was years ago craved to believe him. The woman she was today laughed in scorn. Gavin wanted a second review—that was the main item on his agenda, and she’d be a fool to forget it. After all, this was his family. He hadn’t chosen her over his career before. Why would she possibly think he’d pick her over Mia Casa now? “Do you really want to give us a chance? Or do you want a better review?”
He stiffened and seemed to choose his words with care. “How about both? If I thought your article was fair, I’d step away and stop asking. But this could be the difference between bankruptcy and saving the restaurant that’s been in my family for generations.”
God, she didn’t want to feel all these emotions.
Didn’t want to question herself any longer. Need and fear and a lingering pain rose up and swamped her. She needed to make a final decision. Let go of the past and give Gavin another chance. Or walk away and get on with her life.
She wanted to trust him.
But the image of her crying and alone, with no one to turn to taunted her vision.
Miranda vowed never to experience such gripping sadness, and this was the same man who caused it.
So she did the only thing she knew.
“I can’t do this anymore,”
she repeated softly. “I know you told me the reason you left, but for three years you never contacted me.
Never wondered what you left behind, or what I had to go through when I tried to call the next day and opened up a neat, cold email.” She stopped, refusing to share what else he had left behind. The past was the past, and it was time she moved on. “I don’t believe I really meant anything to you. That’s what I can’t forgive.”
His hands gripped the counter as he bowed his head, seeming to struggle with her final answer.
When he rose, his face reflected a battle-scarred weariness. “I understand.”
He reached inside his jacket pocket and tossed a handful of envelopes on the table. “I’m not giving you these to change your mind. I can’t take away the past, but at least you can see I wasn’t lying.
I thought about you every day. Those are just a few of the letters I wrote, and I wanted to mail them, but —” he broke off in disgust.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve pushed too hard because that’s what I’ve always done when I want something. Seems I have lousy timing learning when I should back off and when I should stick.” He gave a self-mocking laugh. “But I want to learn. I know you have little reason to trust me. We have a special celebration tonight at the restaurant to reveal the new lounge. I want you to come with me. Meet my parents. See a part of my heritage and my past.” His eyes blazed with intensity.
“I’m asking you to give me this one night to show you who I am. Share what I was too fucking selfish to give you before. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Miranda.” His voice turned ragged. “And if you don’t show up tonight, I won’t bother you again.”
He left.
She touched the crinkled stack of letters bound in a worn rubber band. Pain and longing hit her gut. His words reached deep inside and stirred up a mess of emotions she thought were compartmentalized.
Did she really want to open herself back up to rejection? How many times had crazy hope driven her to think this time it would be different? She remembered her mother returning home from rehab, smelling clean and fresh and sweet. Her long red hair caught the light of the sun as they sat in the living room together, reading books and doing puzzles on the glass table.
She sensed this time, her mother was healed. This time, she would stay with her and Grandma, and they’d be happy and normal. She ignored the worried gleam in her grandmother’s eyes.
Refused to see the tremble of her mother’s fingers as she lit cigarette after cigarette. The whispered phone calls out on the porch. The beginning of the decline, all over again.
Miranda hugged her arms around her middle.
So stupid. Within a few days, the drugs were back.
The strangers hovered outside, with the crazy eyes and mismatched clothes. When she woke up, her grandmother cooked her breakfast in the tiny, silent kitchen. And Miranda knew her mother had left again, for the lure of the drugs and unnamed, faceless people who didn’t care.
They never spoke of her again.
A shudder wracked her body.
Opening herself back up to Gavin held no purpose. Yet, the thought of meeting his family tantalized like a pair of Manolos on sale in Payless. One night. No promises.
He’d already vowed to leave her alone if she asked. Somehow, she sensed his own pain when he talked of their past. But it was too late. And no letters were going to make up for it, either.
She opened the kitchen drawer and stuffed the stack of envelopes way in the back.
She now retained complete control.
Perhaps, by meeting his family and finally seeing him in his own personal element, she’d be able to gain more closure. Closure to finally walk away without a backward glance or a hitch of her heart.
And of course, the last word.
Finally.
Miranda stood in the kitchen for a long time before she made her decision.
