He Loves Me Not (The Hawthornes of New York 1)

I had forgiven my mom before I got here.

I glance over her shoulder to see Thurston standing under a tree. I knew he would be close. He’s protective of her.

He’s helped her heal and grow.

He’s loved her back to life.

“Did you ever go see him at Lennox Hill?” I ask. “Did you see him before he died?”

“Every morning after I took you and Vivi to school, I’d drop by.” She swallows. “Often, he would be asleep, but I’d sit next to him. I wanted to be there when he passed. I hoped I would, but I couldn’t get there in time.”

“Roman was there.”

“Roman,” she repeats his name. “The man who loves you.”

“The man I love,” I tell her.

She nods. “He’s a good man. Honest men aren’t easy to find.”

“I know.”

“I told Vivi.” She hangs her head. “I don’t know if she’ll come to understand why we did what we did.”

I know my sister. She’ll come around.

“She will, Mom.”

“This guilt.” Her voice breaks. “This guilt has consumed me. Every time I see you, I question whether we did the right thing.”

I take both her hands in mine. “You and dad did what you thought was right at the time. You followed your hearts.”

“We did,” she agrees. “Regret is a difficult burden to live with.”

I’ve seen it firsthand. That’s what has kept her from letting us in. She’s shrouded herself in so much guilt and regret that she’s built a wall around herself.

“Let it go, Mom.” I reach for her face. “Please, Mom, let it go.”

A single tear falls from her cheek and onto the lapel of the light blue jacket of her pantsuit. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“I’ll never forget him.” She leans closer to me. “I love Thurston, but your dad was the one. He was the love of my life.”

“I think Roman is the love of mine.”

“You’ll have children?” she asks with a perk of her brows. “I’d love to be a grandmother.”

I try desperately to keep my emotions at bay. “He has twin daughters. They’re identical.”

“Twins?” She smiles. “How old are they? What are their names?”

“They’re six.” I exhale. “One is named Dora, and the other is Georgie.”

Her eyes stare into mine, and I see the question there, so I answer it. “Roman named her after dad.”

Her hand darts to her mouth to cover a sob. “They’re our family. We’re going to be a family.”

“I want that,” I admit. “I think he does too.”

Chapter 53

Roman

I watch as Bianca sits on the couch with my daughters. Georgie is cuddled into Bianca’s lap. Dora is resting her head against Bianca’s chest. All three of them are engrossed in a documentary about penguins.

Clearing my throat, I step closer to him. “I thought someone wanted popcorn.”

Dora is the first to turn in my direction. “Come and sit with us, Daddy. We’re watching this show about pen guns.”

“Penguins,” Georgie corrects her with a grin. “I got it right, and you got it wrong.”

Bianca’s hand darts out to stop the girls from yanking on each other. “Some words are harder to say than others.”

“Like what?” Dora turns to look at me. “Are some words hard for you to say, Daddy?”

A couple of months ago, I thought it would be impossible to tell a woman I loved her, but I’ve been tossing those words at Bianca all week.

She came to my office the other day after she met with her mom at the cemetery. I held her and told her I loved her.

I did the same that night when I was making love to her in her bed.

I’ve repeated it at least a dozen times a day since.

“I don’t know,” I answer to buy some time. “Do you think I have trouble with some words?”

“You know how to say no,” Georgie points out. “And how to say it’s bedtime, girls.”

Dora takes over. “You can say brush your teeth and put your clothes in the hamper.”

Bianca chimes in, “I’d say that your dad knows how to say the New York Yankees rule, but he chooses not to.”

“The Mets rule,” Georgie pipes up.

“No way,” Dora says, shaking her head. “It’s the New York Yankees.”

I catch Bianca’s eye. “We will all have to agree to disagree.”

The girls turn their attention back to the TV.

“This might be the best Saturday night of my life,” I whisper to Bianca.

She leans closer to me. “Just wait until later, Rome.”

Rome.

The nickname started years ago when George called me that. I told Matt. He picked it up, and since then, it’s become a staple for the people closest to me.

Hearing Bianca say it adds another layer to it.

It feels fucking perfect.

“I can’t wait, B.”

Her cheeks flush.

“They’re talking about kissing again,” Georgie whisper shouts to her sister.

“Because they are in love,” Dora stresses the last word.

“We are.”

Both of my daughters turn to look at me, so I turn down the volume on the TV. “I love Bianca.”