“That’s exactly what it was like. Every bit of what you said. I had built walls between myself and reality in order to push through each day, and it was as if someone hit them with a sledgehammer. When I got back to my apartment, I broke down and cried. I cried for so long that night, Leni came into my room and lay on my bed, holding me as I wept. It was then, as my heart was breaking and I finally let the sadness out, that I realized I’d been so busy holding our lives together with bubble gum and Scotch tape, I had never grieved for my father. I think I cried for a week, holding it all in when I was at work and school, then falling apart at night. It was cathartic to finally grieve, and it allowed me to gain enough perspective to fit the various parts of my life into place, like a puzzle.” She tapped different parts of the table as she said, “Over here was my childhood with both of my parents. And over here was life with only my mom and Deirdra, and over here was my life after Deirdra left. Then all the way over here”—she touched the other side of the table—“was the new life I was building, and it was separate from the others, yet somehow it carried pieces of those other lives with it. Once I put all those pieces into their places, I felt so much better, like I was finally gaining control of my life. I vowed to never build those walls again, and that was when I finally understood what Shelley had meant when she’d said my parents wouldn’t have wanted that life for me. She meant the woman my mother had been before we lost my father, and that made sense because my mother loved me and Deirdra so deeply. Before my father died, she was always hugging us, singing, and dancing. And I know she loved us to the very end of her life, but it was different. Not enough to save her.”
“You must have missed that part of her desperately.”
“I did. I still do. Some of my favorite memories were sitting on the front porch singing with my mom while my dad painted, doing arts and crafts, and gardening. God, do I miss gardening. My mom was so proud of her vegetable gardens, and it made me proud to be part of them. I used to get so excited when we’d go out with our floppy rubber boots and weed the gardens and collect baskets full of vegetables. I’d stand on a chair at the sink and help my mom wash them while she talked about what dishes my father would make with them. He always made a big deal about using the vegetables we grew, and he’d make a show out of inspecting them and choosing the best ones. Then we’d go to the restaurant and he’d whip up a special, elegant meal with all the trimmings using the vegetables he’d chosen, and the four of us would eat it. My dad would put our drinks in wineglasses or champagne flutes. Gosh, it was so elegant.”
She looked dreamily at Aiden and said, “You know what? It was very much like our breakfast this morning.” She seemed to think about that for a minute with a faraway look in her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that earlier. Anyway . . . gardening was a huge part of our lives before we lost my dad, and then, like everything else, it died with him. You asked me about resentment earlier, and I didn’t resent my mom the way Deirdra does, but everything my mom did made me sad. She had terminal cancer and passed away within a few weeks. She never even told us she was sick, so we never got to say goodbye. I guess that made me mad, but not nearly as much as it crushed my heart. I was devastated, but then she brought Cait into our lives, and that is helping to heal the hurt.”
“Jesus, Abs . . .” He wanted to hold her, to soak up all the years of hurt she’d felt so she’d never feel it again.
She pointed her spoon at him and said, “I swear, every time I’m around you, I blab like a conversation hog. I never spill all the details of my life like this. You must have put truth serum in my coffee and sprinkled it on the ice cream or something, and you’re actually listening to every word I say.”
“I learned a thing or two about females while raising Remi, like how to keep my ears open and my mouth shut. It was either learn to hear what she wasn’t saying or continue to annoy the hell out of her by responding in all the wrong ways.”
“You are a very wise man.”
“I don’t know about that, but I think you open up to me for the same reason I do to you. We sense the similarities in our lives. I was so busy raising Remi, I didn’t fully grieve for our parents until Remi got engaged about a year and a half ago.”
“Oh, Aiden.” Sadness rose in her eyes. “You held it in for that long?”
“I was busy making sure Remi was okay.” He took Abby’s hand, holding it between both of his, and said, “I thought Remi and I had been dealt a tough hand, but you lost the father who meant so much to you, you lost your mother first to drinking, then for good, and in between, you lost your childhood. And now you want to resurrect their restaurant.” Fighting his instincts with everything he had, for the first time ever, Aiden made a business decision with his heart instead of his head and said, “I know I should probably keep my thoughts to myself, but I think you should turn down that offer for the Bistro.”
“You do?”
The hope in her eyes made his heart beat faster. “I do. The restaurant is too big a part of you to let it go. You’re a remarkable woman, Abby, and if anyone can make a go of bringing their dreams to reality, I believe it’s you.”
“I’m not that remarkable. I just keep plowing forward and hope things turn out okay.”
They were both quiet for a beat, their eyes never wavering from each other. Aiden swore time stood still as “Abigail de Messiéres” slipped from his lips like a secret. The woman who is rocking my world by doing nothing more than being herself.
She swallowed hard, desire and something much deeper gazing back at him. Her tongue swept over her lower lip. Her eyes flicked to the sundae, then back to him. “Do you want . . . ?” Her nearly whispered words trailed off as he leaned forward.
“Yes, I want.” He touched his lips to hers, light as a feather, testing the waters.
Her lips were warm and sweet, and she didn’t pull away. He slid his hand to the base of her neck, and when her lips parted, he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid over hers, tasting, taking, heat surging through his body. She grabbed his shirt, tugging him forward, giving him the green light he craved. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hauling her closer, bringing her knees between his legs. His other hand pushed into her hair, and he claimed more of her with every swipe of his tongue, plunging deeper, exploring, possessing. She made the sexiest noises, setting his entire body ablaze. She was still clutching his shirt with one hand when her other hand landed on his thigh, and he fought the urge to move it higher so she could feel what she was doing to him. Her mouth was heavenly and sinful at once. He’d promised himself he’d go slow, but as the cool evening air hit his heated flesh, there was no slowing down their feast of passion. She was as lustful and greedy for him, pushing forward, taking as eagerly as she gave. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was a release of tethers, a kiss that put all others to shame, and he never wanted to stop. He slowed his efforts, savoring every sensual second, the feel of her hand on him, the taste of her desire on her tongue.
The sounds of voices trickled through his haze of desire, and he realized he was making love to her mouth in front of an ice cream store. He forced himself to break their connection, leaving both of them breathless, but he kept her close, kissing the spray of freckles on her cheek; then he touched his forehead to hers and said, “Sorry, Abs. I got carried away.”