Whereas his family had enjoyed their wealth in the more obvious ways. His father had also worked from the ground up, but his mentality had been different. Walter didn’t spoil his family, but he did indulge them. A beautiful, spacious house, vacations that included private ski lessons in the Alps or chartered yachts in Croatia, a holiday homeon Lake Como. Joel’s mother always sported a perfect manicure at her country club luncheons. His sister wore the most fashionable clothes. They went to the best of schools.
Walter focused on building his business and securing investments that advanced profitability, but the way he invested in his family was also strategic. Every action had a purpose, honed an image, built an empire. Morgan Construction was a brand Walter had curated over decades of long hard work.
Even though Luciano had used the phrase “win gold and wear it,” Walter had lived the motto.
So where Joel enjoyed spending the money he’d earned on his wife, he also understood that she was sometimes uncomfortable receiving it. He’d have to be mindful of how quickly he moved forward with her, but he had no intention of withholding anything from her. Everything he had was hers.
Lucy entered the elevator and punched the button to the penthouse as if four years hadn’t passed since the last time she’d done this. The familiarity in her actions put him at ease. She had the same muscle memory that he had of their old life together. No time or space could erase the imprint they’d left on each other’s lives.
The doors slid open, revealing a hallway with one door, and Lucy preceded him out of the elevator. Her steps slowed only slightly as she made her way to the door. “It smells the same,” she said.
“Does it?” Joel unlocked the door and waited for her to describe the scent, but she didn’t.
When she walked into the foyer, she halted, fully taking in the surrounding space. His penthouse was large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that exposed the entire skyline, thewhitecaps of the Bay and Pacific Ocean a spectacular backdrop from the bridges and city below them.
“It—” She walked across the hardwood floors toward the living room. Her fingers trailed over the built-in custom cabinets Barone & Sons had made. “It looks the same.”
When she’d left, or didn’t come back, depending on how you looked at it, he’d thought about moving a thousand times. Living here without her had been a whole different kind of agony. But the truth was, their time together had been so short there hadn’t been much of a footprint of her. She hadn’t moved in her own furniture or artwork. They’d only put up one wedding photo, and it had been in their bedroom.
After Vegas, she’d gone back to her condo, but when she discovered she was pregnant, she’d moved into the penthouse, and they’d immediately started playing house, with his things in his space. There had been a few odds and ends she’d added. A throw for the couch because she was always cold. Scented candles that helped her nausea. Kitchen supplies she enjoyed. Nothing significant.
When she’d left, she had simply been gone, leaving nothing but a ghost behind. And the phantom of her had been so comforting to him that staying had been the path of least resistance to his heartbreak.
“I changed nothing after you left,” he replied carefully, setting his keys on the table.
After another moment of taking in the main floor, she pushed open the glass doors leading to the patio. The outdoor terrace was his favorite part of the entire place. Massive and spacious, it circled the entire penthouse, offering a 360 view of the four bridges and the city’s most renowned landmarks. Many Morgan buildings were alsovisible from this balcony. His family’s footprint stamped all over the city.
Some summer evenings, when his insomnia had gotten the better of him, he’d spend the night out here, imagining a world a million miles away from the things weighing on him.
He remembered it had been Lucy’s favorite place as well. Slowly, he followed her out onto the terrace, watching her keenly as she leaned against the glass balcony and stared toward the Bay Bridge. The breeze lifted her hair, sending it trailing behind her like a flag taking flight.
She didn’t speak until he was right behind her. “So, do we just pretend like none of it ever happened?” Her gaze stayed on the view as she spoke. “Or do we hash it out with a marriage or grief counselor so we don’t make the same mistakes again?” She turned to face him, wanting for an answer.
“We both know pretending isn’t really an option, so I pick the second.”
“You’d sit on a counselor’s couch for me?” She appeared serious when she asked him this, so he tried to answer in kind.
Lucy was going to need a lot of repetition and reassurance this time around, and as he leaned toward her, shifting his body so that her back was against the wide ledge and he was in front of her, one hand on either side of the sill, he found himself being totally okay with that. He’d make reassuring her an Olympic sport and win gold every time.
“Lucy,” he rumbled against her cheek as he feathered kisses there. “I’d do anything for you. Seeing someone who can help us navigate our hurt and make sure we communicate properly isn’t exactly a hardship. It’s a no brainer.”
Her eyelids fluttered downward, so he nudged herforehead with his, moving in closer until their torsos touched, their heartbeats met. When she looked up at him again, he spoke with a certainty she couldn’t miss. “This time is forever and forever takes work. Everything worth fighting for does. We both know that. Hours upon hours, sleepless nights, sacrifice, the things we want most don’t come easy. And what I want most is you. So yes, I will do whatever it takes.”
Her eyes shone and as much as he hated to see her cry, he was okay with these tears. “Would you sit on a counselor’s couch forme?” he asked, because he could use a little reassurance from her too. She’d come to him two weeks ago because she wanted help to secure Barone & Sons, but would she stay because being with him was where she truly wanted to be?
When she nodded, relief flooded his heart.
“I’ve actually been looking a few up in the area,” she admitted sheepishly. “I found one with a really good reputation who has an opening for new clients.”
“Book them.”
Lucy snort giggled in that way that he knew meant she was happy. Satisfied. Like he was.
Her palms came up over his chest, and he hoped she could feel the way his heart sped up. “I thought it would be weird,” she murmured. “Being back here where I lived the best and worst days of my life.”
A dozen heartbeats passed, and she didn’t speak, just fiddled with the fabric of his shirt while keeping her eyes focused on his neckline.
“Please tell me there’s abutin there,” he finally said.
