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We didn’t speak of the past and simply took time to get to know who we were now. We ate lunch on the hotel-room deck, packed since we both had relatively early flights to catch the next day, and lounged around half-naked in between our toe-curling times. When Reed made love to me, my heart felt alive, like nothing mattered, even though part of me still felt flawed.
“We need to eat,” he said, nibbling my ear.
“You’ve eaten already,” I teased. “At least four times.”
“I meant dinner, sexy smart-ass.” He squeezed my side, and I giggled. “I’ve been feasting on dessert.”
He kissed me, then rolled out of bed, his naked body like a Greek god glowing in the moonlight as I watched him strut across the floor to retrieve a room service menu from the desk.
He handed it to me, switched on the light, and said, “Decide what you’d like,” before excusing himself to use the restroom.
As I perused the Caribbean food choices, my phone chirped.
When I plucked it off the bedside table, fully expecting to see a funny message from Stacy, I realized I’d grabbed Reed’s phone, not mine.
Message after message bombarded the screen.
Scarlett: I miss you.
Scarlett: ??????
Scarlett: When will you be home?
Scarlett: I love you.
And my heart died.
CHAPTER 13
Reed
* * *
Someone once said good things fall apart so better things can fall together.
It reminded me of Giana and me.
Her news about the life-changing surgery and that dickwad leaving her right afterward shattered my soul.
And it all made sense why Sofie threw out the question, “You’ve sorted out the whole kids thing, I assume?” like a rusty arrow aimed straight for her sister’s heart. I’d always sensed no end to their rivalry, which, according to Noni, dated back to Giana’s birth. Before Giana, it was just Sofie and their mom, then six years later, soon after Giana was born, their mother’s illness, manic-depressive disorder, came to light, and she left the two siblings to live with Noni. Having children is something Giana wanted more than anything in the world—the chance to love and raise them the way she’d wanted to be loved and raised. Her surgery not only blew her confidence and spirit to smithereens, but it also wrecked what she thought would be her purpose someday: to be a loving mom.
My heart still beat hard for Giana—never stopped beating for her—and the fact that she couldn’t have children didn’t matter to me; there were many children in need of loving homes, and because of precious Scarlett, I was no stranger to the adoption process.
I planned to take this second chance with Giana all the way home.
I planned to go for another shot at forever.
While I wanted to tell her about Tyler and Cassie and how adopting Scarlett changed my life, my gut told me it wasn’t right to spring that on her then, not after she’d shared her heartache with me. After careful consideration, I thought it would be best to wait. Tell her a few days after returning to New York. Bask in the moments we had together, getting reacquainted and falling in love.
But something happened, and I couldn’t figure out what.
Giana was quiet while we ate dinner, then told me she wanted to rest because she had an early flight out the following day.
Understandable. Besides, I loved falling asleep with Giana in my arms. There’d be plenty more opportunities for sex.
However, when I woke up early the next morning, hope for our future deflated in my chest.
There was no sign of Giana, save for the Harry Winston I’d slipped on her finger only a day before and a note scribbled on a sheet of paper.
