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Ginevra set her phone beside her bed, moving out of view for a moment as she lay down. When her head hit the pillow, she was staring straight into the camera, her dark hair wispy around her face. As she considered the question, my heart broke for at least the third time that week.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” Liam whispered. He kissed his fingers and pressed them to the screen. She didn’t return the gesture, just closed her eyes, and a few minutes later, she was fast asleep.
I flopped down beside Liam, one arm thrown over my face to conceal the parade of emotions I couldn’t hide—longing most of all. God, I missed her. We’d had her in our arms for only a few days, and it’d been long enough for her to gouge out a piece of my heart and claim it for her own.
Liam laughed to himself, then reached over and pulled me to him. Go figure that the psychopath was the one among us who’d found a way to make peace with our loss. I burrowed into the warmth of his arms, laying my face on his chest.
“We’ll get her back,” he promised me, stroking my hair as I drifted to sleep.
38
GINEVRA
Why was there a motorcycle in my driveway? I pushed the front door open, plastering on my fake-for-company smile, getting ready to greet Min-joon’s guest, only to see Cormac seated on the living room couch, sharing a drink with my roommate.
My purse fell to the floor with a clatter. I raised a trembling hand to my heart as I stared at him. His deep brown eyes were liquid and warm as he smiled at me. The coppery tint to his skin glowed in the California light. As he walked toward me, his arms out, a strangled, animal sound escaped me, and I threw myself into his arms.
“Oh, sweet darling Ginevra,” he sighed, wrapping me in his embrace, and tucking my head under his chin. “I missed you.” He stroked my back with a gentle touch.
I squeezed my eyes shut, not quite believing he was there, in my living room. I’d stopped myself from daydreaming about my men dozens of times in the past two weeks. Each time, my broken heart cracked into smaller pieces as I realized the impossibility of my dream. And yet, here he was.
“Min-joon was kind enough to let me in,” Cormac murmured into the top of my head, bringing me back to the present.
With a sniffle, I gave my roommate a watery smile.
Min-joon’s answering look was dry. “I’m going to pack an overnight bag and crash at Jeff’s. I’ll be back to host the poolside brunch with you on Saturday, okay?”
Cormac didn’t let go of me, just held me and petted me, whispering sweet nothings in my ears, until Min-joon was gone. When we were finally alone in the house, he stepped back, holding my arms so he could look me up and down.
“You look like shit, darling.”
I laughed through my tears. “It’s been a shit couple of weeks, asshole.”
“You’ve lost weight.”
I pursed my lips. It had been all I could do to drag myself to work each day and pretend everything was normal, and he wanted me to take care of myself too? Had I not given enough to this asshole while I was in Yorkfield? And now he thought he could come into my home and tell me I wasn’t doing enough in the face of everything that had happened to me?
I took a step back, annoyed. “Fuck you, Cormac.”
He dragged me back into his arms. “Darling, I’m so sorry.” He nuzzled his nose into the crown of my head, then fisted his hand in my hair, tugging it back so that he could kiss me, brushing his lips against mine once, twice, and then deepening the kiss into one of intense possession.
When he pulled back, my breath was ragged. “I missed you too,” I whispered, leaning against his chest.
“Go take a shower,” he instructed. “I’ll start dinner.”
The smell of searing meat drew me downstairs without drying my hair. I pulled it back into a loose braid and dressed for comfort. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but knowing Cormac was in the house was already mending some of the broken, jagged pieces of my heart.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said as I leaned on the counter of my kitchen island, admiring the play of his broad shoulders under his snug T-shirt. I dragged my eyes down his body, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, the curves of his ass, and his thick thighs. When I raised my eyes, he was looking at me over his shoulder.
“Like what you see, darling?”
I hummed my assent as he cooked our dinner, watching him move around my kitchen as if it were his own. “I’m glad you’re here,” I repeated, grabbing wine glasses and a bottle of merlot and walking them to the table. He finished serving the food as I set the table, but once we faced each other over our plates, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
“Don’t,” Cormac said, taking my hand in his. “You don’t owe me pleasant conversation. I just—I saw you last night, and my heart broke all over again. Let me take care of you for a little while, okay?”
My phone pinged and saved me from another moment of awkwardness.
