Page 163 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Like love.

“You broke my heart, Gian.”

“Well, I hope my heart has been a suitable replacement, Cara. Because you still have mine, and you didn’t bother to give it back. It’s like waking up with a giant hole in my chest every single day. I can’t not know it’s gone. I always know. And maybe I don’t have any right to say that at all, but there it is.”

Cara glanced away, but he saw the wetness in her eyes all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Gian said again as the first tear slipped from the corner of Cara’s eye. “I hate me, too.”

Tears meant something—she wasn’t numb and she wasn’t cold. Not to him or what had happened, anyway. It meant there was a part of her that wasn’t done or hadn’t entirely moved on from everything. She hadn’t moved on from them.

“Are you done now?” Cara asked. “Have you gotten what you wanted? Can I go?”

He wanted to say no. He had her barricaded in an elevator, and God only knew how long he would be able to keep her there. He could finally force her to listen to the shit he had to say, if he wanted to.

Gian had a feeling that would not help him with Cara, only hurt him. He couldn’t force her back to his side, he couldn’t demand her there, and he wouldn’t ever lie to her again to have her with him, either.

If she wanted him, wanted to be with him, he needed her to do that on her own. She would then understand it was because she wanted that, too, and had done so, knowing exactly what it meant for both of them.

He couldn’t give her what she deserved. He couldn’t be her husband, or live with her in a public fashion. She would never be looked at with the same respect his wife would, and in fact, would face a barrage of shit just because she wasn’t his wife.

And the titles she would wear because of his selfishness?

Homewrecker. Whore. Mistress. Slut. Goomah.

Gian could keep going, too. He’d heard them all be slung at the woman his grandfather had loved for decades, a woman Corrado barely spoke about to anyone. How could those same people justify shaming someone, when they didn’t even know her or why she made her choices?

Why would Gian knowingly do that to Cara?

He loved her, so why hurt her more?

Gian stepped closer to Cara, and she didn’t move away. Instead, she watched him carefully, with a stone-still body, painted red lips, and eyes that cut him to the core. He reached up, the side of his hand brushing along her cheek to push back the stray curl, before his thumb swept under her eye to wipe away the tear stain.

She was still so beautiful.

Like fucking life in his hands.

“I didn’t mean to do this,” he told her.

Cara nodded. “Yeah, I know, but you still did, Gian.”

“And what I said, before you walked out on me that day, remains the same.”

“You tried to say a lot.”

“I have only ever loved you,” Gian murmured as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Cara’s forehead. His thumb stroked her cheek, and she didn’t move away, but he felt the wetness of her tears slip down to his skin away. “And I’m sorry that it hurts you, Cara. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I love you.”

“Me, too.”

Gian reached behind Cara and pushed the emergency switch on the elevator. It took a couple of seconds for the machine to respond, for the red light to go off, and for the elevator to move again. Cara turned away from him, then, pressing the second-floor button.

At his floor, Gian expected the people and security waiting there as the door opened to let him out. He shrugged off their questions, giving no answer as to what happened to stop the elevator.

Behind him, he heard Cara whisper as he walked out, “I miss you, too.”

For them, he had been sure it was far too late. He had done that, not her.

But was it?