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The drive over to Beacon Hill is quick, and when I turn onto her street, I park the X6 along the fence at Louisburg Square. We exit the car, crossing the street to Lena’s place, and sit on her front stoop.
“Thanks for driving me.”
“No need to thank me. You know I wanted to spend some time with you.”
“I won’t be at the service tomorrow because I have court. I’m sorry I can’t make it.”
“I know. It’s all good. Thank you for being there tonight. It means more than you know.”
Lena stays silent. She lifts her legs one-step, bringing her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. There’s a chill in the air tonight, and she’s cold. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her into me, kissing the top of her head.
“Are you ready to talk about it?” I ask her.
“Not tonight,” she says. “I’m sorry. I know we’re long overdue to have the conversation, but it’s late, both of us are exhausted from long days, and we both have to be up early. The conversation we need to have is one that needs more time than we can give it right now.”
I contemplate her words, see the sincerity in her eyes. “Okay. I don’t like it, but you’re right.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna head inside. I need to go to bed.” She stands up, and I follow.
“Hey, after we bury my mother, I’m driving to Newport with the boys. I need a few days to decompress, away from everything, everyone. I’ll let you know when I’m back, and we’ll meet, finally have our much-needed conversation—yeah?” I brush my knuckles across her cheeks, which are red from the chilly fall air.
“Okay, that works.” She nods.
My hand cups her face underneath her chin, and I brush my lips to hers. They’re warm and soft as they always are. I’m greedy and want to taste more of her, so I kiss her again, this time with more force, swiping my tongue between her lips to open her mouth, and she lets me in, her breath hot.
“Massimo,” she says, ending our kiss. “I’m—I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“What? Why?”
“Good night.” She pulls the keys from her pocket and opens the door, disappearing behind it. After the way she responded to me the other day, her rejection is another slap in the face! Yet I keep coming back for more.
I return to my car and lean against it, watching the building to see when she gets upstairs and turns the lights on. I can’t understand what’s going through her mind. It seems like she’s hot and cold, but I can’t figure out why. It’s like she wants me to touch her but then rejects me, and it makes no fucking sense. Her indecisiveness torments me, more so than I already am, if that’s even possible.
I had resigned myself to live a life without Lena, to be the best father for my boys, and put relationships on hold. After all the hurt I caused Camila, I just need to focus on them. But fate intervened, and Lena returned. Stella thinks I’m an idiot for even speaking to Lena. My head tends to agree. She wrecked me. But my heart shouts in joy that she’s back, hoping it’s for me.
Am I imagining that she came back for us? And if she did, can I forgive her for abandoning me? Everything inside of me screams that Lena still loves me. I can see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch, and in the way her body still reacts to me.
My mother’s death reminds me that life is short, and we need to live for ourselves. Do things that make us happy. Except Lena’s rejection is something fierce. So what the fuck is going on? I can’t risk being betrayed—my heart can’t handle that again.
Once I see Lena’s light on, I climb into my car and hit shuffle on my phone. The torrents of emotions coursing through me are overwhelming, and I need the loud music to soothe and calm me.
CHAPTER 18
The Vault
MARIALENA
A Week Later
LAST NIGHT, MASSIMO’S TEXTmessage asked to meet today at The Vault, the same bar we had planned on meeting at last week before his mother passed away.
As I leave my office, I send him a text.
Lena:On my way—see you soon.
Massimo:At the bar—far end.
My stomach is a bundle of nerves as I’m walking to The Vault. I’ve been rehearsing how to tell him, when I should tell him, and no matter how many times I try, it always sounds wrong. Of course it does. I should’ve never left the way I did. I shouldn’t have left at all.
