Page 87 of Tastes Like Summer

“Callous?” I scoff. “I’m being the complete opposite. I feel like we’re being callous in thinking this could work. In not considering how much this could hurt everyone involved. I’m not just talking about you and me, you know. Cami and Emi and Rachel… They love each other, too. And when this doesn’t work out⁠—”

“When? What do you mean when?” he hisses. “I have no intention of us not working out.”

“You say that now,” I say, taking his hands in mine. I want to comfort him just as much as I need his comfort. “But what about when we’re a few months in and we’re arguing all the time, or we’re frustrated over not being able to see each other as often as we’d like? Or when the stress of the restaurant or of me navigating a completely different life starts to bleed into every single interaction we have? And where do you expect this to go, exactly? Because while I’d love to think this long-distance relationship will be enough, we both know we’re not living in a damn fairytale, Michael. I mean, I can’t leave Colorado—Rodrigo made it perfectly clear he’d never even entertain the idea of letting me take the girls out of state—and you just opened a restaurant in Long Island. How is this ever supposed to work? What is our end game?”

“Is that what he told you?” Michael practically growls. “He’s holding the girls over your head legally to keep us away from each other?”

I grimace. “He didn’t say that. He just doesn’t want me to take his girls to the other side of the country—understandably so. He’d never get to see Cami and Emi.”

“What difference would it make? He never sees them now. And it’s of his own making. But suddenly, the mere suggestion that you might eventually want to move on with your life to be with someone else is a ridiculous notion and completely unacceptable? And yeah, maybe you’ll never be able to move out of Colorado, but that doesn’t mean that me and Rachel can’t move out there. Why wouldn’t we if we eventually decide to try and make it work as a real family?”

My breath hitches, the mention of us having a life together, really trying to turn this into a tangible, real thing—a family—is… the biggest fantasy I could’ve ever dreamed up. The idea of Michael and Rachel moving out there sounds like a dream but one that could easily turn into a nightmare.

“What if you do move? What if you uproot your lives and realize when you get to Colorado that it’s not working out? That you moved halfway across the country for nothing. You take a chance on a relationship that was never going to work out, then, we will have hurt not just each other, but definitely done a lot of damage to our kids. Especially Rachel, since you’d be submitting her to a life-changing move. What if you make this huge life decision, and it all goes to hell?”

“And what if it fucking doesn’t?” he roars, eyes wild and desperate, throwing his arms open wide. “What if it’s the best decision we’ll ever make? What if it’s everything we’ve ever wanted and never dreamed to ask? What if we take this chance and finally accept that we’re meant to be together? To be a family. To love and fight and laugh and fuck and live the rest of our lives as a team. What if you and me, and Rachel and your girls, are endgame, and you’re throwing it all away over some irrational fear your ex-husband has somehow managed to get you to believe in? I love you, goddamn it, and we belong together. And there’s nothing you can do or say that will convince me otherwise.” His red eyes shine with the threat of tears. It tears me apart.

I feel the warmth of my own tears stream down my cheeks as I watch him breathe heavily. So strong and wild but utterly breakable before me.

“I love you, too,” I finally admit, my voice barely a whisper.

Michael exhales in relief, as if hearing me say the words has released him from a built up tension that had him in a choke hold.

“But this can’t go on.” My voice breaks as the tears come faster, my breathing becomes a bit harder. “I—I can’t risk all the hurt. My daughters have had enough of it.”

“Your daughters or you? Either way, I’d never do anything to hurt you guys.” He sniffs once, runs his hands through his hair, a wild man searching for a grip on reality.

“I know you’d never purposely do so, Michael. C’mon.”

“Then what makes you believe I would ever let you go? What makes you believe I’d let this happen? Because us breaking up? Yeah, that’s going to cause a world of hurt. To you. To me. And to our daughters.”

“The girls will remain good friends. We’ll make sure of it. And because I know you’ll never let go… Well, it means I’m going to have to be the one to set us both free.”

Michael inhales sharply before pulling me close. His hands dig into my hair at the nape of my neck, our faces mere centimeters apart. “Why are you doing this to us? Stop.” His voice breaks, a desperate plea that destroys any chance at peace. “You’re hurting us. Why? Just, please, Diana. Please stop,” he whispers against my lips.

I do my best to turn away, to avoid his kiss. But I’m only human, and resisting him is impossible. He presses his lips to mine and winds one hand tightly around my waist, while the other digs into my hair, his grip firm and commanding.

The kiss is devastating yet hopeful. It rips me to shreds—breaks me into a thousand pieces and puts me back together—a constant series of contradictions, just like our entire relationship has been.

When his tongue presses to my lips and the kiss intensifies, I run my hands up his arms, feeling the corded muscles of his biceps beneath my fingertips. I’ll miss the way those muscles, born out of hours of manual labor and hard work, felt like the safest and softest place I’d ever had the absolute pleasure to be in. I’ll miss his plain white t-shirts, and the way he made them look almost luxurious. I’ll miss his heartbreaking smile and the way he laughs at my quirks. Most of all, I’ll miss the loyalty and devotion I see in his eyes—to his daughter, to my girls, and to me.

“You can’t take this away from me, Diana. You can’t take it away from us. It isn’t fair,” he breathes against my neck before placing a kiss at the base of my throat. He follows it with a harder-than normal bite.

I sob once before pulling his face back to mine, wanting to pour every bit of myself into him. Wanting to give him every part of my heart and soul for safekeeping. He can have it all. He can take every piece of me and keep it. After all, who else am I going to give it to? I know, even after only a few weeks of seriously dating, that I will never love another man the way I love Michael. It’s how I know he’ll never love anyone else as much as he loves me.

I want to give him everything. Instead, I’m taking it all away.

When his hands travel down the back of my thighs to pick me up and drop me onto his desk, I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Not right now. Not here.” Is he crazy?

“Why not now?” he asks, making quick work of the button and zipper of my shorts, tugging them down in one swift movement. “I need you. I want to show you how much I love you. And you’re so fucking beautiful and—Fuck, Diana.”

“I—” I start, but am distracted by the speed at which he removes his pants, the way he makes room for himself in between my legs. The way his cock is hard and wet at the tip, eager to make its mark—to claim me. “We’re in your office. In a restaurant. I’m sure this violates more than a few health codes.”

“Fuck the health codes,” he growls, kissing up my neck as he drags the tip of his cock over my drenched underwear.

“What about your patrons? Your employees? What about our daughters?” It’s a wonder I’m able to even form words, considering the lack of oxygen in the room.