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Stunned by Mel’s outburst, I sit frozen in place. And all I can do is watch her storm down the neighborhood sidewalk. Even in her fury, she’s staggeringly beautiful. Her long strides make her hips sway, triggering a cascading river of fabric behind her. She looks magical in her princess wedding dress.
Like a queen without a crown.
And my heart squeezes painfully.
How badly did I just fuck up?
I could see the hurt—the betrayal—written all over her face, the realization that I’m not capable of understanding her. And it hits me all at once, just how terribly I’ve miscalculated. I knew after our first night together in Boston that she hadn’t been with another man in a long time. I’d assumed that was because of Gabby.
But she’s never been with another man?
Not in all this time?
A riot of emotions crashes through me—disbelief, confusion, intense and consuming relief. And I can’t tell whether I’m more horrified by my behavior or elated to know that Mel’s belonged to me—only me—since the very beginning. Dizzying gratification makes my heart form an erratic rhythm, and I scarcely dare to breathe.
I’m the only man she’s slept with. And that’s not because she’s in short supply of willing men. In truth, that kind of abstinence would require an iron-clad conviction for a woman as alluring as Mel. Especially in the line of work she’s had since she left New York.
Perhaps there was a reason I never managed to regain my heart when she left. Perhaps, even across the hundreds of miles that separated us, I could feel our unbreakable bond.
And now, watching her walk away feels like she’s physically taking my heart with her.
Adrenaline floods my veins, driving me to take action. I throw open my driver’s-side door. “Mel,” I call. “Mel! Please get back in the car.”
“Go to hell!” she shouts over her shoulder, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. And she doesn’t slow her hasty departure.
“Come on, Mel,” I urge, stepping down from the cab to go after her.
She whirls, glaring at me with such vitriol, it jolts through me like an electric shock, freezing me in my tracks. I lift my hands in submission, showing her I won’t touch her without her permission.
“I don’t want your help, Gleb. Not if you’re going to call me a liar,” she grits out. “Yes, I’ve made mistakes. Yes, I’ve lied in the past. And I know I should have told you sooner that you’re Gabby’s father.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she draws herself up with a fierce composure. “But I was scared I might ruin things by dropping that bomb on you before you were ready.”
My stomach knots at the way her voice trembles. And again, I step toward her, but she takes a pointed step back.
Then she forges ahead like she’s going to finish this argument no matter the price. “Too bad for me, it turns out you were never going to be ready. I naively thought we could work things out. But now I see that was just a fairy tale. Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. And now I would rather find my own ride home than be near you for another minute. I don’t want to be with someone who throws my lies back in my face. I said what I did to protect you, and if you can’t see that, then I don’t want your help. I don’t even want to look at you.”
With that, she makes an abrupt about-face and storms off once more.
“Blyat.” I’m in over my head here. Spinning, I race back toward the truck, and before I even have the door closed, I throw it in gear.
Carefully, I roll along beside my bride as I lower the passenger-side window. “Please get in the car, Mel. Let me take you home.”
Her chin juts up defiantly, and her arms cross over her chest as she keeps marching, pointedly ignoring me.
“We don’t have to talk. You don’t have to forgive me. You can be pissed at me all you want. I just want to get you back to Gabby in one piece.”
I can see the falter in her step, and I know that, no matter how mad she is at me, the desire to be reunited with her daughter will win out. I can only imagine how painful it must have been for Mel to leave her little girl—our little girl—to think she might never get to see her again. It must have been the hardest thing she’s ever done. And she did it for me.
Her shoulders tense with the need to see Gabby. To hold her and never let go—just like I wish I could do with Mel right now.
But only one of us is sure to get our wish.
And it’s going to be her.
It has to be. Because I love Mel more than everything else in this world combined.
Finally, after a few more reluctant steps, my livid and agonizingly beautiful wife comes to a stop. I stop with her. And with grudging resignation, she opens the door to climb back into the truck.
