I eyed her. “You really want to deal with the wrath of my sister when she finds out we let her sleep with her makeup on?”
She gave me a brilliant smile. “I can handle it.” Taking my hand, she led me over to Reid’s room and opened the door a crack. “Look.”
I peered over her shoulder, my chest constricting. Reid was wrapped up in the car blanket I’d seen Tori folding the last time I’d been there. Clutched in his hand was the model car I’d bought him. I couldn’t help the warmth that filled me at the sight of him. His auburn hair was a messy clump of curls, his tiny hands holding the car tight, his face almost angelic. A sting of pain ricocheted through me. I’d missed so much of his life that seeing him like that was a painful reminder.
Tori’s hand touched my cheek, and I looked down at her, realizing my eyes were misty. I turned away, but she brought her other hand up and forced my sight to hers.
“He’ll forgive you,” she said. “Just like I have.”
“Have you?” I asked, still not truly believing it.
A nod and a soft smile. “The hurt is still there, but it’s healing and will continue to heal. But I know why now, and that makes it easier.”
I wasn’t so sure it was that easy. Not after all I’d done. Peering back at Reid once more, I closed his door.
“You really want to leave her there?” I asked, gesturing with my head to where Liv was still dead to the world.
“Let her sleep. I’ll have Reid wake her.” The mischievous grin she wore had me wondering if this was payback for the phone call all those years ago.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I joked. “She’s a beast when she wakes up.”
“I made it through the toddler years. I can deal with your sister.”
Again, the thought that I’d missed too much resurfaced, and again, she read my change in emotion. Taking my hand, she reached up and pulled my mouth to hers. The kiss searched out the doubt, obliterating it, and as the ash settled, her teeth scraped over my bottom lip.
“Stop,” she said. “We can’t move forward if you continue to wallow in guilt. If I can set my pain aside, you can set yours aside. Only then can we make it from the middle to where we left off.”
I dropped my head to hers, breathing in vanilla and cherry blossoms. “I’ll work on it,” I said, giving her forehead a kiss.
“Good night, Gabe.”
Hand plunging into her hair, I wrapped my fingers around her neck and dragged her to me, kissing her once more. Heated, needy, and lingering, the kiss reinforced more of the corroded chambers of my heart. “Good night, luna mia.”
Her inhale, seductive and tempting, stayed with me long after I returned to my suite. Walking to the bar, I picked up my scotch. The bottle hovered in my hand, the liquid one minuscule movement from filling my cup. Since leaving Tori, it had become my crutch, the only thing that got me through the day. I set the bottle back down, replaced the lid, and turned from it, knowing I no longer needed it to make it through the day or the night. I had hope again, and I had Tori.
Movement outside my office had me lifting my head. I’d come in early to work out then entrenched myself in emails and reports, unaware of the time that had passed.
Liv walked in with a flourish, closing the door behind her. From the quick strides to my desk and the exaggerated drop into the chair, I could tell she wasn’t happy with me. I tried to hide my grin.
“That mongrel woke me up this morning using my back as a racetrack.”
I stifled my laugh, and it came out as a snort. “He’s not a mongrel. He’s your nephew.”
“Not after this morning. I’m disowning him. Do you have any idea how hard it is to make conversation with a child?”
“For most, not that hard. But you?”
She crossed her arms, pouting at me. “He made me eat some disgusting colorful cereal. It will take me weeks to clean that pollution from my body.”
“You’re full of crap, Liv. You used to love that stuff when we were young. I distinctly remember boxes of cereal with marshmallows in your dorm room.”
The roll of her eyes told me she wasn’t in a playful mood. She looked down at her nails, picking at one. “So how did it go?”
“Better than I thought it would,” I admitted.
Her eyes lifted. “And?”
“We’re taking it in steps, but there’s hope.”
