She wasn’t opposed to commitment because of some soul-deep aversion to monogamy, or because she didn’t believe in romantic love, or because she couldn’t see herself being happy unless she was footloose and fancy free.
Which meant there was hope.
Hope for what?the voice asked.
Hope that I can change her mind about forever like she just changed mine.
But that would come later. For now...
“Will you tell me more about Andy?” he asked carefully.
He heard her swallow. And when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. “Andy was wonderful. The sweetest, gentlest boy I’ve ever known. He had a beautiful singing voice. He was an excellent storyteller. And helovedto read, mostly science fiction. But he wasn’t the same after we got back from the hospital. I mean, heseemedokay for a while. Maybe a little quieter, but all the doctors said was that was to be expected. Then, right around the time he hit puberty, the anxiety and depression manifested themselves. And along with them came thoughts of suicide and bouts of self-harm.”
“And you think that was brought on by the overdose when he was three?”
“None of the doctors said so, but Mom always insisted the brush with death irreparably altered Andy’s brain chemistry.”
Again, Romeo had the distinct urge to wrap his hands around her mother’s neck and squeeze. “And because you thought you were responsible for his brush with death, you also felt responsible for his mental illness.”
“I don’tthinkI was responsible for his brush with death. Iwasresponsible for it,” she insisted.
“Mia—”
“No.” Her soft cheek brushed against his chest when she shook her head. “I’m not going to argue the point. You asked about Andy, and I’m telling you.”
There were a million things he could say about who was responsible for what, but Mia could be amazingly stubborn when she chose to be. And because shewasso very stubborn, and also because she was so principled and scrupulous and accountable to the point of performing emotional hara-kiri, he knew anything he might say would fall on deaf ears.
Instead, he told her, “Please, go on.”
“Andy was in and out of institutions from the age of twelve. At around seventeen, he seemed to be getting better. I remember how happy Granny Susan was to have him home. And then Granny Susan died, and Andy had to go live with Mom and Dad.”
When she shivered, he pulled her snug against his side. He didn’t think it was the cool ocean breeze that made goose bumps pop out over her skin.
“He finally succeeded in taking his own life six months later,” she finished, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear her.
Rolling her onto her back, he held himself above her. Her golden eyes were bright with unshed tears, and the pain in them was so sharp he would swear he could feel it cutting into his soul.
Brushing her hair back from her face, he said the only thing he could. “I’m so sorry.” And yet the words didn’t do justice tohowsorry he was. How much he wished he could take away all her heartache and hurt and replace it with only love and laughter.
Her eyes dropped to his chin. “Which reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said on a whisper.
He couldn’t imagine what her brother’s death had to do with him, but still he urged, “Shoot.”
Her eyes caught and held his. “Would you let me make a donation to your outreach program once you get it started?”
Caught off guard, his initial instinct was to decline her offer. The idea of accepting money from her, even for something as noble as his charity, didn’t set right.
She must have seen the hesitancy in his eyes, because she quickly explained how her father, after having set up a trust for her mother, had left the bulk of his estate to her. How she’d vowed from the beginning to donate the money to troubled youths in honor of her little brother. And how Romeo’s outreach program struck her as theperfectcause since he would be the one running it and she knew he’d make sure the money was put to good use.
“How much are we talking?” he asked, although, he knew he’d end up saying yes to her offer no matter what. He could see how much it meant to her.
“Five million dollars.”
It was a good thing his mouth was empty. If he’d been eating, he would’ve spit out his food in one of those dramatic Hollywood holy-shit moves. “Sweet Mother Mary!”
“I know that sounds like a lot, but—”
“It doesn’tsoundlike a lot. Itisa lot. Don’t you want to keep some of it for yourself? What if you fall on hard times or...or...” He shook his head helplessly.Five million dollars! Who gives that away?But he knew the answer.Mia. Mia gives that away.“I don’t know. Decide to quit your job and write the next Great American Novel?”
