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As he was driving away, he saw her at the window and waved. She waved back, and he pulled out of the lot. His chest filled with an unbearable heaviness—the same sensation he experienced every time he and Marissa separated.
Eventually, he would have to do something to stop that feeling.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Benicio and Rose laughed as he escorted her up the steps to the double doors of the mansion she currently lived in alone—his former home—the place where they’d raised their brood of seven children.
“Would you like to come in for a bit?” Rose asked.
The question took Benicio by surprise.
Almost a year had passed since he invited himself on her vacation to the Greek Isles with their mutual friends. His friend Oscar accused him of cock blocking. Not that he cared. He couldn’t knowingly let his Rosa link up with another man and do nothing.
Since then, he sensed a change in his ex-wife. They already had a good relationship, but Rose had become friendlier and different in other ways—though he couldn’t quite articulate how. More relaxed, maybe? He just knew her well enough to know she wasn’t the same after the trip.
Perhaps it was in the way her gaze lingered on him or the way she made eye contact. Nothing overt but definitely a change. Yet every time he tried to push past their platonic touches and friendly gestures, she withdrew.
Now she was inviting him inside. It was late and dark, and he should hit the road. But he was weak for her and welcomed any opportunity for them to spend time together.
“Sure,” Benicio answered.
She led the way inside the quiet house.
“Why don’t you go in the den? I’ll fix us something to drink,” Rose said over her shoulder.
Silently, Benicio watched her disappear in the direction of the kitchen in a floor length mulberry-colored sheath dress with a matching shawl attached. The light fabric draped across her shoulders and added a sophisticated look to her slender frame. Of course, Rose could wear anything and look amazing.
Sighing, he trudged toward the den and tugged off his tie and folded his jacket over the arm of the sofa.
Dropping onto the soft cushion, his shoulders slumped, his heart heavy. It would be nice if he could stay the night and not have to worry about driving back to his condo in the city.
Rose entered carrying two glasses of red wine and croissants on a small tray.
Benicio sat up. “What is all this?”
“Midnight snack,” she answered.
“As if we didn’t eat enough at the wedding,” he teased.
“I know, but this is that delicious dessert wine Bruno brought back from his trip to Argentina.”
“I can’t believe you have any left.”
“He gave me two bottles, and I’ve slowly been working my way through them. They’re especially good with these chocolate croissants Rodolfo made,” she said, referring to the household chef. “I’ve been eating them all week by myself.”
“And you want me to join you in your bad behavior.”
Rose placed the tray on the table in front of them. “If you don’t mind,” she said with a smile that could move mountains and end wars.
“I’ll join you, but I won’t like it.” Mouth already watering for the flaky bread, Benicio reached for the glass and one of the croissants.
“I asked Monica how the trial was going, and she said Andre was optimistic,” Rose said.
Andre hadn’t come to the wedding because he was in New York attending his mother’s new trial.
“Good. Poor woman. They should have a verdict soon, yes?”
Rose nodded, breaking apart her croissant. “When—not if—she’s freed, Monica said she plans to move to Atlanta right away. She’s going to live with her brother.”
