Up in Flames (Rosemary Beach 13)

I shouldn’t have given in to the exhaustion and fallen asleep in his arms. I should have stayed awake and faced him. Confronted him. But I had foolishly hoped that my gut was wrong. That he hadn’t been telling me good-bye.

Slowly, I opened my eyes to the room now lit with late-afternoon sun, and it was empty except for me. I could jump up and frantically search for a note or wait for him to return, but neither would happen. He was gone, and he’d left no note.

That wasn’t like him. He wasn’t a keeper. He ran when the time came. For him, that time had come today. I’d seen it in his eyes and in the way he’d tried to memorize my every feature. My heart had tried to prepare me, and I had ignored it. I would face the consequences of that now.

The truth was, I loved a man who would never love me. I wasn’t enough for him, or he would have stayed. Chasing him was futile. He didn’t want to be found. He’d given me what I had come here for: closure.

I had my closure, and he had his.

Finding a way to move on from him would be hard. I might never accomplish it. I wouldn’t chase him, but I would mourn him. As if he were dead, my heart would weaken, and I’d embrace the pain and sadness. Until Gannon, I’d never been truly happy. No one had made me feel complete or like I belonged.

In his arms, I had found a home that I couldn’t have, because it was never really mine.

I sat up in bed and stared out the window at the fountains, remembering how they had looked while he’d brought me to an orgasm last night. It was an image I would lock away in my memory and keep there. It was my reassurance that he had been real and that he had been mine all too briefly.

I walked over to the overnight bag sitting on the vanity in the bathroom and pulled out the disk holding my birth-control pills. Yesterday morning, I hadn’t remembered to take one, or I’d forgotten on purpose. I was beginning to believe the latter. This morning, I’d chosen to conveniently forget again. With a small release, the pills fell into the silver trash can, to be left and forgotten.

It wasn’t a sure thing, but it was all I had left. A chance to have a piece of him with me always. I’d never love another man the way I loved him. No one else would fit me so perfectly. So I was doing what many would think was wrong, low, sneaky, or cruel. I didn’t care. I wanted a child. I wanted his child. If I was lucky enough to get pregnant with his baby, then I’d adore it and give it the love I never had.

The world could suck it. This was my choice. Our child would be loved more than any child on this planet. There was nothing wrong with me having that.

If there was, I just didn’t care.

Cope

She had checked out more than two hours ago, but the room still held her scent. I stood staring at the bed, remembering how she’d looked as she slept, how she’d felt tucked in my arms. This was how it had to end.

I had the information I needed, and I knew it was the truth. She’d told me all she knew. It was time we moved on. Franco Livingston hadn’t tried to contact her, nor had she tried to reach him in the months we’d had her under surveillance. She hadn’t known she was messing with a crime lord when she’d spent time with him. She was clear.

The thing I hadn’t expected was the pain in the center of my chest. Or maybe I had. Nan had become a part of me even before I touched her for the first time. Watching her, I’d slowly started feeling things for the beautiful woman who was so alone yet so tough. The small things no one saw I began to cherish.

Walking away from her was like ripping off my own limbs and tossing them away, yet it had to be done. I had no place in my life for a woman. Especially one like Nan. Someone who needed to be loved properly.

I wasn’t a whole man. I was a twisted bastard with a dark side, not meant to touch the softness of a woman like her, and yet I had. She’d embraced the evil that leaked from my soul as if she wanted to be closer to the darkness. No one had ever opened to me like that, so full of trust and need. She had come to me. Me. She had chosen me.

This would be the last time I’d smell her. This room would hold the last memories I would have of her. I wanted to go curl up on that damn bed and soak in what traces of her remained. My heart had started beating again because of Nan.

I picked up the pillow I’d left her sleeping on and inhaled it, not willing to let it go. If I had stayed one moment longer, I’d have never been able to leave. But she didn’t need me. She needed more than what I could offer.

I wanted Nan to get her fairy tale. The one she had built in her imagination as a child in her secret garden. Where a man would save her and give her the dreams she held close. The dreams a man like me couldn’t make come true.

One day, she’d get what she wanted. There was so much beauty in her soul that even she didn’t see. The smart mouth and flashing temper weren’t all there was to Nan. The man who saw through these things to the beauty within would be given the gift I wouldn’t allow myself to touch.

There was nothing left of hers to take with me. No note or memento. I scanned the room for anything left behind, then walked over to the silver trash can and saw a small plastic disk. Bending down, I reached inside and pulled it out.

I knew without opening it what was inside, but I opened it nonetheless.

It took several moments, as I stood motionless, staring down at the pills in my hand, before the realization dawned on me. I couldn’t get angry. I tried to feel violated in some way, but none of that could even begin to take root.

All I knew was that it wasn’t over. In approximately four weeks, I’d go back to visit Nan. This wasn’t the end after all.