AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Murmured conversation comes from the other side of the guest room door, telling me the girls are awake. I don’t know when I started thinking about them as “the girls,” but somehow, that feels entirely natural. They’re a set, an inseparable duo, and regardless of how Mel came to be a mom, it feels safe to think that she was always meant to be one.
Stealing myself, I knock softly and wait as the voices fall silent.
A few moments later, Mel cracks open the door, her big onyx eyes making my pulse quicken.
She’s still wearing the satin sleepwear she was in last night, but she does her best to hide it behind the bedroom door as she peers out at me. Her dark hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, silky and smooth even at this hour.
“Hi,” she says softly, her uncharacteristic shyness reminding me of how much of an asshole I was the last time we spoke.
“Hi.” I clear my throat, the emotions raging within my chest, leaving me unexpectedly hoarse.
An apology might be the simple route to take, but words are so empty. I’m sorry feels meaningless without the action to back it up. I’d rather show her I want to fix things. That I want to move forward, that I intend to support her and help her get back on her feet.
“I was thinking,” I start, “since Pyotr won’t need me until this afternoon, why don’t we head to a few modeling agencies today? See if you can get any traction on a gig—if that’s something you’re still interested in.”
Do I sound as stupid as I feel? Because right now, she’s looking at me like I’m from Mars.
“I made breakfast,” I press on, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the kitchen. “We could head into town after that if you’re up for it…”
“Oh, that’s… that’s so thoughtful.” She bites that full lower lip of hers, drawing my eyes toward her mouth without even trying.
I force my gaze back to her dark eyes that hide a million secrets. Why is it that with everyone else, I have a gut instinct, but with Mel, I never know where I stand? Is she hesitating because she doesn’t want to be around me?
Maybe she would rather go on her own. I remember how independent she was when she was first trying to find her way in the modeling world. But it’s not worth the risk after what happened in New Haven.
“I think it’s best if I accompany you,” I reason. “Until we’re confident Vinny won’t come after you again.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” she says quickly. “And, I mean, I would love to go—I am still interested in modeling. Only… I don’t have my headshots anymore, and I can’t bring Gabby with me. Aspiring models aren’t supposed to be moms and all. I don’t think either of those facts would help my case.”
Mel looks genuinely disappointed—which is the only reason I’m willing to admit what I say next.
“I might have a few of your headshots tucked away.” There’s no might about it. I definitely have a few of them. But I’m not about to come right out and say that—or admit that the reason I still have her pictures is because I’m some kind of sick masochist who doesn’t know how to let go. “And I can wait outside with Gabby while you interview.”
“Really?” Mell’s voice jumps several octaves as her face lights up.
I shrug, relief flooding my chest as the tension between us melts under the heat of her excitement. “Of course. You girls get ready. I’ll go find those photos. When you’re good to go, breakfast is on the stove.”
“Great.” The white-toothed smile Mel levels me with is radiant enough to cleanse my guilt just a little.
Her grip on the door softens as her shoulders relax, and the barrier swings open just a sliver more to reveal her long legs and natural beauty.
The sight of her batters against my carefully constructed restraint. Christ, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter how much I’m around her, how many times I see her in a day. She continues to affect me all the same.
Using every ounce of discipline I possess, I force my gaze back to eye level.
And before I do something I regret, I turn to make a hasty retreat to my bedroom.”
3
MEL
“Well, Miss O’Mara, as I said before, we’re not really looking for models for the current publication,” the managing agent of Impress Magazine says.
My heart sinks, my stomach in knots as I work to keep the sting of tears from blurring my vision.
“But these are some very promising headshots.”
My heart skips a beat, and I swallow the hope that threatens to rise in my chest.
