Her gaze never wavered, scrutinizing my face and body language. After a tense moment, she reluctantly said, “Make it quick. Nina will be here soon.”
“I don’t expect you to like me, Ms. Nicolette,” I began, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest, “but it wouldn’t be respectful of me to continue my pursuit of—”
Her once-curious eyes turned shocked as she let out a low gasp. “Pursuit?”
“That is what I said, yes,” I confirmed, maintaining eyecontact.
“You left my daughter for all these years. You left her heartbroken, and now you show up thinking you can come back for ‘pursuits.’” She started closing the door, but I quickly used my shoe to stop it.
I knew this reality, but hearing it every time never failed to break my heart all over again, leaving a familiar ache in my chest. It also made me feel weak. I shouldn’t have left her, but my feelings were valid, as my therapist tells me time and time again.
“Yes, I did leave, but I had as good a reason as anyone. My entire life was reeling before my eyes. My parents and my youngest sibling all died from cancer within two years, followed by failed kidneys that killed my grandparents. The grief consumed me, and if you think I upped and left without looking back, you are wrong. How do you think Nina got a fully paid scholarship to the top private fashion institute in this country, the day after she applied? Or the first surge of business investors during her first three days of opening?” I asked, my voice growing more intense. “I did that because I knew fashion was everything to her. Because I knew the girl I love deserved that chance—one this life wouldn’t give her.”
She stood there, still in shock.
“Does she know?” she asked quietly.
“I never told her, and I never will. It wasn’t a deed done for recognition. It was done because she deserved that happiness.”
Her expression slowly softened, and she spoke, “I will listen, but I will not invite you inside.”
“Good enough for me,” I started, taking a deep breath. “I truly love your daughter and have never stopped. I can’t be myself without her; though I left physically, she’s with me in everything I do. I know how much Nina respects and loves you, and out of respect for that, I felt it was right to speak with you first. WhileI’m not pursuing you, you are an important part of Nina’s life,” I finished, all in one breath.
“Mi sei sempre piaciuto,21” she whispered so softly I barely heard her. “Do you really love her?”
“More than anything.”
She sighed, her eyes softening as her protective nature surfaced. “Nina is grown, and I cannot tell her what to do, but as long as you do not hurt her again, all should be well. I don’t care how much power or money you have—hell will raise before you cause my baby any more ruin.”
I expected more of a fight from her, but before I could even question it, it was as if she read my mind and said, “I see how your eyes lighten up with delight at the mention of her name, and I see the courage it takes for a man of your caliber to be on the doorstep of the girl you love’s mother. If you didn’t truly love my child, you wouldn’t be here.”
I took two steps toward her, kissed both sides of her face, fixed my suit, and started walking away.
“Ronan,” she called out, and I spun around. “Send my best to Dillon.”
“Of course,” I told her and left.
NEW YORK CITY
The flight back home was a blur of thoughts and regrets, yet a newfound determination simmered within me. Upon landing, I had an impromptu cryosurgery on a patient with a malignant tumor, and the replay of my conversation with Nina’s mother was all that stuck.
“Scalpel,” I called out, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. I was anything but focused.
“You seem distracted today,” Dr. Jensen remarked, peeringover his glasses at me.
I nodded, my hands continuing their practiced motions. “Never distracted, Jensen.”
The patient’s life depended on my skill, yet my mind was fixated on the chance to mend a different kind of wound—the one I had inflicted on her heart.
“Do you nee—”
I shook my head, my determination firm, and that statement was all I needed to get my head in the game. “What weneedto do is continue.”
The operating room door opened three hours later, and a nurse entered, handing me a chart with a gentle smile.
“Great job in there, Doc,” she said, her voice warm with admiration. I nodded quickly, barely stopping as I made my way to Arnoldo’s office.
Arnoldo wasn’t only my best friend; he was a force. With effortless magnetism, he always wore a sleek black suit, a black undershirt, and Cartier cufflinks worth more than most cars. His car collection was also impressive. Cuban-Jamaican through and through, with bronzed skin and dark eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement, he knew the effect he had. The tabloids thrived on the ruthless lawyer and billionaire playboy image, but to me, he was Arnoldo, smirking like he already knew why I’d come.
