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Today, I had lunch delivered to her at work and her entire staff because I know she cares a lot about them.
There was also a crème linen embossed invitation for dinner this evening.
I haven’t heard from her, but I hope she accepts my invitation.
“Sir, we have arrived,” Nigel says when we pull up in front of the building.
My jaw and fists clench as nerves tumble around in my belly. I’ve never been nervous when it comes to a woman. I’ve never had to be, but Nia isn’t just any woman. She’s a very special woman.
Just because she’s getting a divorce doesn’t mean she’s ready to forgive me or let me back in. It also doesn’t mean that she hasn’t already moved on.
Damnit! Why didn’t I tell her how I felt when I had the chance?
“Sir?” Nigel calls from the front seat once more. “Would you like me to go up and check on Ms. Carver?”
The last time that Nigel went up there, he found a surprise. Hell, so did I, for that matter.
“No thanks, Nigel. I’ll handle it,” I say, pushing the car door open before he can make a move to do it.
“Sure, sir.”
I breathe deeply and blow out an exhale as I head for the doors of her building.
Here goes everything.
I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life. Despite Shep’s continual teasing that I’m the perfect brother, I’m far from that. One of my greatest mistakes was letting this woman slip from my hands.
Knowing she was married, I have no idea why she got involved with me, but I’m ready to hear what she says. I just hope it’s not too late.
I pull my phone out, and fiddle with it as the elevator slowly passes each floor. It seems this is a busy time of the day for this building with the number of stops we’re making.
It is a Friday night at eight, so it makes sense that everyone’s coming and going. We finally reach the fourth floor after what seems several minutes, but I know it’s only been seconds.
I head down the hall and around the corner, recalling my last time here. It didn’t end well for me, and I spent the next several months licking my wounds in the unhealthiest way possible.
Ringing the doorbell, I try to listen for sounds coming from the other side of her apartment. It would serve my ass right if she didn’t open the door, or worse, if she wasn’t even at home but living it up and having the time of her life.
When she pulls the door open, three things happen. Relief floods through me, my dick jerks to attention, and I inhale a sharp breath.
She’s beautiful; perfect, really.
Nia’s wearing an olive-green off-the-shoulder sweater dress that stops mid-thigh. A pair of olive-greenish-gold stiletto boots boost her closer to my six-two height. Her hair has grown since the last time I saw her, and she’s pressed her curls out and dyed her hair. The tips of her raven-colored hair are now blonde and hang to the middle of her back.
Nia’s makeup has been lightly applied, and her dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks seems to be highlighted tonight. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her just before I bend her over the console table behind her and fuck her to sleep.
Instead, I hold out the bouquet of roses and hand them to her. “These are for you.”
She smiles shyly, and I feel a sense of relief flood through me again because she’s not cursing my ass out.
“You know, with the number of roses you’ve sent me, I could open a floral shop of my own,” she says, sashaying back into her apartment.
“Is that what you want?” I call after her.
“Not really,” she laughs from somewhere in the apartment.
I close the door behind me and wait for her return. She returns with the roses in two vases.
“Did I mention that roses were my favorite flowers?” she asks softly.
