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Harboring the pain and trying not to remember takes effort. And it is exhausting.
My body is well rested for the first time in forever. My mind isn’t going in a thousand directions to avoid thoughts of Tim and Chloe. And telling Luca brought me more peace than I ever would have imagined it could.
No more hiding. Luca knows my most painful truths now. And I think he also knows me better than I thought he did.
If he had asked me if he could come here today, I would have said no. I’d probably be curled up on the couch or out for coffee with Percy, who has been texting me often because she’s concerned about how I’m doing.
But when he just told me he’s coming, it felt good. He didn’t give me the option to decide. It kept me from falling back into self-preservation mode.
My attempts at protecting myself are the reason no one has ever been to my apartment, other than people delivering groceries or cleaning. When reporters doing profiles on me ask to interview me here, I always insist that my office is where I spend most of my time so I’d rather do it there.
And it’s true. This apartment is a safe haven for me, but it’s not at all personal. There are no photos on the walls, just some neutral landscape paintings. This apartment belongs to Abby Daniels, kickass entrepreneur who gets all her shit done.
Daniels was Tim’s last name; I took it when we got married. But the fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old he married that gorgeous summer day, who loved baking and road trips? That was Abby Barrett. I was a warm, laid-back woman who longed to become a mother.
And even when I did, I was still the woman Tim married that day. And on that dark night that the light of my life left the world on a busy highway, I shifted. I may have had a chance of finding some new way forward, but I’ll never know. Because when Tim died just hours before I had to formally end my own baby girl’s life, I had no chance of being the old Abby again.
Abby Daniels became who I needed to be. Sharp. Tireless. Impersonal.
When I talked to Luca, though, I felt the old me lingering somewhere inside, asking if it was safe to come back out. It made me wonder if maybe, I could find a way to be Abby Barrett Daniels.
The old me and the new me, melded into one woman who is more than just a survivor.
When my doorbell rings, I smile. Getting up to answer the door, I feel the flutter of anticipation I always get before seeing Luca.
I open the door and he’s there, a small black suitcase beside him. His blue eyes are bright, he’s got several days worth of stubble on his face, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman who exists.
He comes toward me and I move toward him at the same time. And when he wraps me in his arms tightly, lifting my feet from the floor, I close my eyes and let comfort wash over me.
I cry softly, and he doesn’t let go. He walks into the apartment, toes his suitcase in beside him and then kicks the door closed.
When he eases me back to the floor and steps back, he brushes his thumb over the corners of my eyes, wiping away my tears, and then cups my face in his hands.
“I want to be with you, Abby,” he says earnestly. “Only you. Do you want to be with me?”
I nod, my throat burning with unshed tears. His expression relaxes.
“Then we’ll figure the rest out. As slowly as we need to. Let’s not overthink everything or worry, okay? I’m here. Not like here as in, in the apartment, but here. With you. Don’t push me away, and I promise you I won’t go on my own.”
Silently, I nod again. Luca glances around the apartment.
“Great place,” he says, looking out the massive living room windows at the skyline view.
“Thanks.”
“Are you cooking something?” He arches his brows, looking impressed. “Smells amazing in here.”
“Roast and veggies for later. Are you hungry now? We can walk down to the deli on the corner.”
“Yeah? You feel like getting out for a little bit?”
“I do.” I smile up at him. “There’s so much I want to show you.”Chapter TwentyAbbyOf all the places and things I’ve shown Luca in my adopted hometown, I’m the most nervous about this one. The Cypress Lane store in Manhattan is a flagship; it’s the one that fills me with the most awe when I stand in it.
“This was my second storefront, technically,” I say as we step inside. “But my first one wasn’t much. It was a small space at the front of the warehouse we were building the furniture in.”
