“It’s been six months,” I said softly. “You wonder about the cynical, hard man I was. But I don’t need to be that person anymore. You make me happy to wake up instead of dreading another day of nothingness. A year ago I couldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all myself.”
Torre glanced at our entwined hands on top of the dusty little table. “You make me happy too. And maybe that’s all we really need.”
“You may be right.” I let go of his hands and jumped out of my chair, letting it fall to the floor, then held my arms out wide. “There’s a special energy in the air here. Can you feel it?” I stood behind Torre and slid my arms around his neck. “You and me, baby. We’re going to create something magical together.”
“Just being with you is pretty magical.” He swiveled around to face me. “I feel it whenever we’re together.”
His beautiful brown eyes glowed, and I tangled my hands in his hair and pressed my lips to his. The fire simmering between us leaped high, burning me from the inside out, melting my bones. My mouth softened under his harsh breath, and I slipped my tongue inside to tease his. Wanting him to know how desperate and needy I was for him, I pulled him out of his chair to my chest, sucking his lips, his tongue, any part of him I could.
“Let’s go,” I said hoarsely, and Torre, his gaze lust-filled and dazed, grabbed my hand. I dragged him after me, and as we stood on the sidewalk, my hands shook so much, it took two tries before I managed to lock the door. I hailed a cab, practically threw Torre inside, and gave the driver our address.
I blessed the gods of New York City traffic because we made it downtown in less than ten minutes. I didn’t stop touching him, running my hands through his hair, kissing him. We were both so weak with need, we had to help each other as we walked into the building and our apartment.
Torre pulled me down to the couch. “You really bought that building?”
“I really did.” I pulled his T-shirt over his head, popped the button of his jeans, and cupped the thickening bulge there.
Torre wriggled away from me. “And you really want to start a restaurant?”
“I really do.” I crawled after him. “Now come here.”
“Wait, shut up. I want to talk about this.”
I sighed. “Of course you do.” Sitting on my heels, I regarded Torre, pressed up against the armrest, face flushed, chest heaving. “Make it quick. I haven’t eaten my breakfast yet. And you look delicious.”
“Hold that thought.”
“I’d rather hold you.”
He snuggled into my arms with his head in that sweet spot in the crook of my neck.
“You really want to do this with Mike.”
“I have a proposal I know is fair. Many restaurateurs have different brands of restaurants. Upscale and family style. If he accepts, he won’t have to worry again about paying his mortgage or college for the kids.”
“What will you call it?” Torre teased. “Mangia Manhattan?”
I recoiled in horror. “God forbid.”
“Frisco’s Folly?”
I shook with laughter. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise I might make you regret that.”
Torre pressed his lips to my shoulder. “I don’t think I could ever regret anything with you.”
I grew still, and the sound of my heartbeat grew louder in my head. I wanted to go back to that quiet magic in the new restaurant space, but when I spoke, I couldn’t keep the words from spilling out.
“The last time my mother talked to me, she said the biggest regret she ever had was having a child. Me. It made me bitter, harsh. I lived a life with no regrets because I already knew I wasn’t wanted. What could be worse than that?”
As if he knew, Torre placed his hand over my heart. I didn’t think I could hurt any worse than when speaking in the support group that night, but this was ripping me apart, and I wished I’d never brought it to light.
“There’s nothing I can do to take away the scars of your decades-old pain, but life isn’t about who you were at sixteen, or at twenty, or even yesterday. It’s about who you are right now and where you want to be tomorrow.”
“Meeting you, your family, was like a shock to my system.”
Torre snorted. “We do have that effect.”
“People, especially family, have always disappointed me. First my own and then Presley’s…I loved them, and they died.Dammit.” My hands balled into fists. “They left us, and it all went to hell afterward. Nothing would’ve been the same if they’d lived. So I knew love was all a farce—don’t get close; don’t give away anything of yourself because you’ll only end up bruised and battered.”
