“Ronan,” she greeted, her smile faint and weary. “How are you?”
“I’m great,” I replied, smiling genuinely. “How about you?”
“I’m good,” she answered, though her eyes told a different story. “Well, not good, but you know... I woke up today and baked you a mocha cake. I know you don’t like sweets, but it’s more on the bitter side.”
I grinned, touched by her gesture. “Thank you, Zar. But what’s this for?”
“For everything,” she said, her eyes full of gratitude and vulnerability. “You took care of my mom, helped with her bills, and loved her. Even after she passed, you stuck around, helping me despite everything. We haven’t known each other long, but you’ve been the best male friend a girl could ask for. I didn’t know what to get you, so I baked this.”
Her words moved me. I walked over and pulled her into a warm hug. “I’ll always be here for you, and I’ll definitely eat the cake.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice softening.
“How have you been? How’s Dillon? I haven’t heard much from him,” I asked, steering the conversation to lighter ground.
She shrugged, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how he is.”
“But you live together.”
“I mean, I don’t know... Some days, I’m difficult, and he’s busy with a new bill at work. Everything’s all over the place, and I feel like I’m stressing him out,” she said, her voice trembling with panic.
Her vulnerability hit me hard. I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, Zar. Dillon knows grief. Have you talked to him?”
She shook her head, eyes clouded with uncertainty.
“There you go,” I said gently, my voice steady. “Talk to him. He’s deeply in love with you. It’s okay to trip out. You just lost your mother. Give it time, Dillon will understand.”
“Thank you, Ro,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. She grabbed her purse, more purposeful now. “He’ll be home soon, and I want to see him before his five o’clock Zoom.”
“You’re always welcome, Zar. Take care and get home safely. And thanks again for the cake.”
She gave me a grateful smile before heading out. As the door closed, I felt relieved that I’d been able to comfort her.
My phone buzzed with a call from Rachel, signaling I was free. I gathered my things and stepped outside, only to freeze when I saw her.
Nina.L’amore della mia vita.
She stood by the entrance, dazzling in a mini-black dress that clung to her and red heels. Her hair was pinned up, and a coat draped over her shoulders. My heart raced as I blinked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
She walked closer, her heels clicking on the marble floor,and kissed me—slow, lingering. “Not happy to see me?” she whispered, teasing.
I kissed her back, a smile spreading despite my confusion. “I’m always happy to see you, but... What’s going on?”
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the vulnerability in her eyes. “I’m here to choose us.”
I searched her face. “What?”
Nina took a deep breath. “I’ve loved and lost. When I met you eight years ago, you changed everything. You’re the guy who dyed your hair auburn so I wouldn’t feel alone. The one who bought the store I worked at was because I was overworked and underpaid. The man who flew across the world to see me every chance he got, because he needed to be with me. The one who kneeled to kiss the scars I hate. The guy who let me use him as a human pin cushion when I needed to. The man who waited an entire year to have sex with me because I wasn’t ready, and never took my body for granted. The man who color-coded my notes at workshops because he knew how peculiar I am. That’s who you are, and that’s not even everything. When you left, it broke me, but I held onto the memory of you. I tried to move on, but I realized… some things can’t be done without you. Even when I thought I hated you, I knew deep down I loved you.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, one after another.
Her voice trembled with emotion. “I spent the last five years thinking you forgot about me… and I learned I was wrong. In fact, you did everything possible to make sure I lived my dreams. When you came back, you turned my world upside down. Everything you did made me happy—the little things, the big things, the way you made me feel. And you spent the past year making it up to me. You never stopped. You never gave up. But it was that night at High Line, when I looked into your eyes, that I knew. I wanted to try again. I want to choose us.”
My heart pounded as I processed her words. “What about yourboutique? Your life back home?”
Her smile was tender yet firm. “Inaya will run the boutique in Italy. I’ll visit, but my heart is here. With you.”
I searched her face, a mix of hope and concern. “And your mom?”
