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The restaurant she’d chosen for their meeting was loud and public, even on a Tuesday night. Chatter filled the air, along with the faint notes of mariachi music floating from the overhead speakers. A young Hispanic man set salsa and a bowl of chips on the table between them. She barely noticed. She couldn’t do anything except stare at her husband.
God, he looked even better than the last time she’d seen him. His dark hair had been precisely razor trimmed. His intense blue eyes were even more striking against the stubble clinging to his cut jaw and his stark white collar. A charcoal suit coat hugged his broad shoulders perfectly. Then again, he’d likely had it made to fit him.
Seeing him again gripped her heart with a bittersweet pang. She’d missed him so much. But Jason looked through her like a stranger.
She shouldn’t have come. But Gia owed him. That fact was inescapable.
The clipped pleasantries they’d exchanged had felt awkward as hell. A year ago, he would have kissed her breathless, then probably spanked her for the fun of it before commanding her body to stunning ecstasy. She’d always surrendered herself to him, as if he held some inexplicable sway over her. As if he alone held the key to her pleasure. But he inflamed more than her flesh. His blazing intelligence intrigued her. His command of himself and everything around him compelled her. Then last Thanksgiving at the charity dinner for the homeless, Jason had given her intimate glimpses behind his walls, into his compassion. How many billionaires would take the time to serve someone penniless?
As they’d talked, she’d been struck by how few people he let into his life. He rarely discussed friends and never mentioned family. Gia ached to help end his solitude and heal him because under that stern mien, he had a good heart. When he’d asked her to marry him, she couldn’t say anything but yes.
Reality had come crashing in all too soon.
She cleared her throat and tried not to look terrified. “I was surprised when Thorpe called and said you wanted to see me.”
Undoubtedly, he was going to serve her with divorce papers. That would hurt like hell, but Gia understood. She’d been unable to be a wife, and Jason had every right to move on. Maybe she would see their split as a blessing someday…in the very distant future.
She’d been stupid to hope that her fairy tale would end happily ever after. They were from different worlds. What did a sophisticated mogul want with a blue-collar girl who liked pizza and beer and quiet evenings at home? Gia had always thought of Jason as her gorgeous prince. His demeanor might be sharp and Dominant, but he had so much to give besides money.
Sadly, no matter how much she loved him and always would, their lives were too far apart to have a happy ending.
“I want talk to you, and you didn’t leave me any choice.”
Gia tried not to wince at the anger in his tone. She’d always hated disappointing him. “You’re right, and I take full responsibility.”
He didn’t say anything for an uncomfortable minute, just stared. “Then tell me why my own wife ceased speaking to me.”
The explanation brought up so many painful memories, but he deserved to understand. “I was going through a lot and?—”
“I would have been there for you, but you cut me off at the balls. I couldn’t help you since you didn’t tell me what the fuck was going on.”
“My life changed completely, and you didn’t sign up for all that. I didn’t think it was fair to drag you through my muck. We’d been married for, like, five minutes, so?—”
“Five minutes or five decades, we were married. We still are. My number one job was to give you what you needed, and you didn’t give me the chance.”
She felt his rage thick and sizzling between them, pulling at her chest. Gia had to fight not to plead with him, to point out that he’d made mistakes, too.
“You’re right.” She paused, bracing herself to relive the last terrible year. “My sister-in-law, Mila, had given birth to my niece, Bella, just a month before Tony was killed. She was already showing signs of postpartum depression, but the evening after the funeral, she tried to commit suicide by shooting herself in the heart with his gun. Another inch to the right and she’d be dead.”
He sat back, his expression shocked before he softened. “I’m sorry. Is she all right now?”
“Better. We covered up her attempted suicide so that she wouldn’t lose the kids. She still struggles with depression, so I live with them and try to provide stability. I have since last December.”
“I wish you had told me all this.”
“I didn’t because there was nothing you could have done. You would only have driven yourself crazy trying.” His lips tightened, and Gia prayed he would understand. “I had two children under the age of three in my care. My nephew didn’t understand why his dad was suddenly gone and his mom wasn’t the same. My parents were too grief stricken to handle the demands of two little kids, and my mom isn’t as mobile as she used to be. I had to handle everything while still holding down my job. Thank God for daycare. But I needed another pair of hands and I didn’t expect you to provide them.”
“Why not? You were overwhelmed. I would have helped you.”
“How? I didn’t picture you changing diapers and warming bottles for two a.m. feedings.”
His expression went from remote to downright chilly. “What had I ever done to make you believe that I’d leave you to deal with everything alone?”
Nothing. Maybe it was unfair, but his playboy image hadn’t given her the idea that he was prepared to cope with kids. The one time she’d been to Jason’s condo before their marriage, she’d been struck by how spotless—and cold—the place looked. Black, chrome, glass…everything that would show fingerprints. Floating stairs a child could easily tumble down. Walls of windows with a balcony that a curious toddler might be able to scale and fall twenty-four stories to his death. Unfair, perhaps, to judge Jason’s ability to take care of children by his condo, but in her mind it had been an indication of his lack of readiness.
“Have you ever even held a baby?” she challenged.
“I could have learned.”
