"Justice? What does that even mean in our world? More violence? More deaths? More children growing up without parents?"
I think of the kids and how they already adore Luca after just two meetings.
How they light up around him as if some part of them recognizes him on a level beyond conscious understanding.
"I've learned to live with the past," I say, softening my tone. "I've had to, for them."
Luca's gaze drifts toward the hallway where the children's rooms are. "They're good kids. You've done well with them."
"Thank you."
"I just want…" He trails off. "I want things to be right. I want to be able to walk into a room and not wonder who still thinks I betrayed your father."
I understand his need for vindication. If our positions were reversed, would I let it go so easily? But the stakes are too high now.
"What if finding the truth costs more than living with the lie?" I ask.
His dark eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think he might understand what I'm really asking. Then he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing my cheek.
"Some prices are worth paying," he says softly. "Some things are worth fighting for."
And in that moment, I don't know if he's talking about justice or about us.
Luca's face softens, his anger melting into something more vulnerable. "Do you ever think about what might have been? If things had been different?"
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. "Yes.”
He steps closer, his hands taking my arms. "I never stopped loving you, Elena. Not in Italy, not when I came back, not even when I thought you'd moved on with someone else."
I should step back. I should remind him of all the reasons this can't work. Instead, I find myself swaying toward him. "Luca, we can't just…"
His fingers trace my jawline, feather-light. "Tell me you don't feel this too."
The last of my resistance crumbles. "I never stopped either."
His lips find mine with desperate hunger, and I respond with equal fervor.
My fingers tangle in his hair as his hands slide down my back, pulling me flush against him.
We stumble backward until my spine meets the wall, his body pressing into mine.
Warning bells clang in my head, but I ignore them. At least for now. He trails kisses down to my collarbone. “I want you.”
Heaven help me, I want him too.
I can’t seem to stop wanting him.
I take his hand and lead him to my room.
Once the door shuts and locks, our clothes are hastily discarded.
Once in bed, I push him back, straddling him.
My hands roam over his body, noting where he’s the same as the man I knew before and where he’s different.
Broader in the chest and shoulders. Extra sets of packs in his abs.
“Elena.” The way he says my name makes my heart blissfully happy and sad at the same time.
