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We don’t talk for the first few minutes of our drive. I don’t want to distract her, and we have a lot of ground to cover. “I took this car because it’s armored. And I took it so in case you decide to stay, at least you’ll have a car.”
She doesn’t reply.
At the second set of lights in Small Town America, her stomach audibly growls.
“When was the last time you ate, babygirl?”
With a sigh, she shrugs. “It was a while ago.”
Quinn loves her food and has a hearty appetite. She’s been worried. Troubled. Fuck it.
“Pull in here.” I point to a small diner that looks like it was built in a tin can, neon lights announcingOpen Twenty-Four Hours.
“Oh. I love diners.”
Beautiful girl, what don’t you love?
She pulls in and jerks to a stop. I pretend I didn’t just slam the floor of the car trying to hit my own damn brakes.
I have to loosen up, and it starts here.Jesus.
I chose a place like this because the chances of anyone recognizing either of us are extremely slim. She might know the area, but I’ve seen pictures of her from the past. She doesn’t look anything like she used to, and the people she once knew here are likely long gone.
We slide into a booth and the waitress hands us menus that are a bit sticky.
“Fuck, I wonder if she recognizes me,” I mutter to Quinn when the waitress looks at me a little longer than is proper.
“More likely she just thinks you’re hot, which you are, and don’t you dare let that go to your head,” Quinn says as she flips open the menu.
She’s almost herself—lovable and quirky, snarky and sweet—but I can tell she’s holding back. It’s like the bridge between us has broken and neither of us knows how to get to the other.
I remember our wedding day, standing in front of the altar, how we glared at each other under the heavy gazes of our friends. I remember how determined she was to follow through on her end of the bargain, how committed she was to our six months.
I remember our night on the beach under the moonlit sky, how we explored each other by the cabana, how my heart began to open and how I started to hope, for the very first time in my life, that I actually might grow close to someone.
I remember the day I was hurt, how she sat by my bedside and tended my wounds, got me what I needed, and massaged out the pain with her small but capable hands.
“Where do we begin?”
Where do we begin indeed? At the place where we left off, or do we start all over again?
We pause while the waitress takes our orders, and when we’re alone again, I begin.
“First, I owe you an apology.” The slight uplift of her brows shows surprise, but she waits patiently.
I draw in a breath, hold her gaze, and go for broke. “I did the one thing you told me not to do.”
When she blinks, tears roll down her cheeks, because she knows what that means.
“I fell in love with you.” I swallow. I know that with certainty now. When she left, it felt like a goddamn piece of my own flesh was missing. When I wondered if she was safe, if I’d be able to find her again, the reality of facing life without her looked dark and dismal—absolutely unthinkable. “I love you, Quinn. And if we weren’t already married, I’d ask you to marry me right here, right now.”
“Adriano,” she whispers, “I—”
“I’ve been a fucking idiot. I thought protecting you was the only way to show my love for you, and instead I smothered you. I thought leaving you in the dark about what was against us meant giving you peace, and I did it under the guise of obeying Sergio. But I could’ve told you more and I could’ve convinced Sergio to let me tell you everything.”
“The papers,” she says in a shaky voice, while she plays with the straw wrapper and rolls it into a ball. “Tell me about the file I found. I need to know.”
“It was every bit of evidence I could get against Reno. I freely admit, I’ve been watching you for a long time, Quinn. Ever since I got to Boston, in fact. The first time I saw you, the breath went out of me... From that second, I was infatuated—no, I wasobsessedwith you and everything about you.
