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His brow furrows. “I know you, Mia.”
“No.” I shake my head. “If you knew me, you’d know that I believe every person we love makes their mark on our hearts, shaping us into the people we become. You are the man you are because of Anya. Who knows if I would’ve even liked the man you were before her? But I love the man you are now. And if youtrulyknew me, you’d know that I wouldneverask you to let her go.”
I pull my hand from his. “I’m going to the store. When I come back, I’d like you to not be here.” I walk out of the room.
Don’t look back.If I risk even one glance, I might break. I might accept the crumbs of affection he offers me. But I deserve more, and he was the one who helped me realize that. I close the door behind me. Closing it on him. On us.
* * *
With trembling hands,I open the door to my treatment room. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me hoping he’s still in here, waiting to tell me that he can’t live without me. I suck in a deep breath, and I’m flooded with both relief and sorrow when I find the space empty. His scent and his essence remain. The memory of him. And a note, in his handwriting.
I’m sorry I can’t be the man you deserve, sunshine. But I will always be here if you ever need me. No matter what or when or why, call me and I’ll come. X
His cell phone number is scrawled at the bottom.
Tears rolling down my cheeks, I crumple the note in my hand. Damn that man!
ChapterThirty-Three
LORENZO
ONE MONTH LATER
My fingers glide over the keys of the piano, playing the final notes of the song. It only took me a week to master, and now I can play it from memory. I guess Van Morrison isn’t as difficult to learn as Tchaikovsky—or maybe that damn melody is just permanently etched in my mind. Her sunshine song, she called it. She hummed it all the goddamn time, and after she left, I couldn’t get the fucking tune out of my brain. Who the fuck has a sunshine song anyway?
With a heavy heart, I close the lid. I should have learned this while Mia was still here and played it for her. I should have done a lot of things while she was here. Like never let her fucking leave.
I take my phone out of my pocket and, like I do every single day, check it, hoping for a message or a call from her. And just like every day that’s passed, there’s nothing. Of course there isn’t. She’s living her life and moving on without me.
She hasn’t met a guy yet. I know that because I keep tabs on her via her cell phone and the security guard who works near her job. I don’t know what I’ll do when she does. Probably have him taken out by a sniper so nobody knows who’s responsible. And then I won’t be forced to admit that the idea of Mia being with anyone else fills me with jealousy that burns me from the inside out.
I scroll through my contacts and bring up her number. My heart races in my chest at the thought of pressing that green circle on the screen and hearing her voice. As it turns out, I still have a heart after all. It seems Mia Stone put it back together so quietly and carefully that I didn’t even notice until I felt it break all over again.
I lock the screen and slip it back into my pocket. She made it clear when I saw her last that she didn’t want to hear from me. Not that I blame her. I went there to tell her how much I missed her and that I wanted her to return to Chicago, but once again I let my doubts—guilt over Anya and fear of fucking Mia’s life up more than I already have—stop me from saying any of that.
I need to delete her number. Need to stop checking up on her, other than to make sure she’s safe from her prick of an ex-husband. I need to let Mia Stone go. She was never mine to begin with.
ChapterThirty-Four
LORENZO
THREE MONTHS LATER
The sound of my cell phone vibrating on the nightstand rouses me from a fitful sleep.
“What the fuck?” I grumble, fumbling in the dark for the offending item. Whoever’s waking me up at buttfuck o’clock in the morning better have a great fucking excuse.
Every ounce of anger in my body is replaced with dread when I see her name on the screen. If she’s calling me, especially this early, something’s wrong. I’ve imagined this moment at least a million times, all the things I’d say to her to make her come back to me, but now I’m only filled with panic.
“Mia? What’s wrong?”
A loud, guttural sob echoes in my ear, and every muscle in my body tenses. I fist my free hand in the sheets but keep my voice calm. “What is it, sunshine?”
“I-I…” She sobs again. “I k-killed him.”
Adrenaline courses through my body. “Brad?”
“Y-yeah,” she stammers.
