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“That means you do, but you’re afraid to tell me so—or maybe you’re afraid to tell yourself so.” Piper put a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me to butt out, if you like. I know it’s none of my business, but it’s only because I care about you. I haven’t known you all that long, but I do know you’re not truly happy.”
“Hang on—” Molly started to protest.
“Just hear me out?”
She blew out a sigh and nodded.
“You have a great business—which you rarely take any time away from. You have some great friends—and we all adore you, but you don’t do anything for yourself. You’re content. I know that much. But you’re a bubbly, happy, positive kind of person, and I know you’d love someone to share life with.”
“Maybe I would, but I’m not an old maid yet.”
“No, but you haven’t exactly been actively searching for someone to share life with, have you?”
Molly shook her head.
“And would I be wrong in thinking that there’s only one person you’d want to share it with and that up until recently you thought that wasn’t ever going to be possible?”
Molly blew out another sigh. “I can’t tell you what you’re right and wrong in thinking, Piper, because I have no idea whatI’mthinking. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I believed that he was happy in his life and his marriage. Not perfectly happy, but content enough that nothing would ever change. I’m still trying to catch up with the fact that he’s left the family business—the business that was more important to him than I was, and he’s getting a divorce from the woman he married—who was also, obviously, more important to him than I ever was.”
Piper held her gaze for a long moment. “I know it’s none of my business, and I’ll drop it if you want me to, but tell me one thing?”
“What?”
“Do you still love him?”
Molly pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve tried not to for years. It doesn’t matter anyway. Antonio assured me that he’s only here for the wedding, then he’ll be leaving again.”
“Do you want him to?”
“Yes. I do.” That was one thing Molly did know. If Marcos was going to come back to spend any time here, if there was a chance of them becoming friends—or anything else—again, she didn’t want it to be now. Not when he was in the final stages of a divorce or when he’d just left Di Giovanni wines. She knew herself, and she knew that if he came back now, she’d want to be there for him; want to help him through his hard times. She also knew that helping him heal the heart that another woman had broken would only break hers all over again.
She hadn’t managed to sneak a peek at him while she and Piper had been talking, but all the little hairs on her arms and the back of neck let her know that he wasn’t up at the front anymore. He was behind her.
Piper smiled. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Should I walk on by?”
Tears pricked her eyes. How could his voice still feel so familiar? And how did he even remember that silly CD of sad songs she’d burned and sent to him all those years ago? Dionne Warwick, “Walk on By.” Damn, that’d been cheesy. But in her defense, she’d been no more than a kid, going through her first—and only—major heartbreak.
She turned around and shook her head. “No need. I’ve grown up since then. You know that.” She couldn’t figure out the look on his face. Was he sad? Uncomfortable? She had no clue.
They stood there for a long few moments, just looking into each other’s eyes. He’d been a good-looking guy back then, but he was even more handsome now. He’d filled out—in the shoulders if not the hips. There were lines around his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d seen each other since he left. He came back every now and then. They’d had a few stilted conversations, but this was the first time he’d sought her out.
“You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.” What else could she say? “How are you?”
He gave her a sad smile. “Better than I’ve been in twelve years.”
She sucked in a deep breath.
“Molly, I was a stupid, stupid kid, and I’ve regretted leaving you all this time.”
She stared at him, not sure if he was really saying it or if she was just imagining him saying what she wanted to hear.
“Can you forgive me?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I already have. I did that years ago. I wanted you to be happy with whatever it took. There was nothing to forgive. You chose what was right for you—and that wasn’t me.” She said the words and she wanted to believe them, but they weren’t entirely true. She’d forgiven him for doing what he needed to make himself happy, but she hadn’t forgiven him for breaking her heart.
