Desired: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  “Too tired to be miserable,” she cut in.

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The work will keep me busy, and help take my mind off…everything else. I’ll be fine, as long as you and the kids are fine too.”

  Valeria swallowed hard. Had she ever met a man as strong, as kind, and as gracious as the one she had married? The unequivocal answer was “no.”

  In her search for a second chance at love, could she let the love who was already sitting across from her go?

  How could she have doubted for a moment that he loved her even if he didn’t always express it in ways she understood?

  How could she have been so blind, so stupid? She had almost lost the man who loved her more than anything.

  She reached for the divorce settlement. The sound of tearing paper ripped through the silence between them.

  Gabriel turned to look at her, his eyes wide, disbelieving.

  She crumpled the torn halves into a ball and tossed them at his feet. “You missed out one part—where you tell me how much you love and want me?”

  “I thought it should have been obvious. Besides, telling you that while handing over your divorce papers seemed grossly inappropriate.”

  “Like entrapment?” she asked softly. Now that she knew without a doubt that he loved her, she wanted nothing more than to be trapped by his love.

  Gabriel’s gaze flicked to the ball of crumpled paper. She touched his chin and turned his face back to her. She leaned forward, her lips parted in a half-smile, trusting him, as she had for so long, to meet her halfway. The kiss, initially tentative and hesitant, deepened until Gabriel was all that she could see, hear, touch, taste, and feel. He had been her first lover, and God willing, her only lover.

  After a long moment, he eased away, breathing hard. He kissed her on the tip of her nose and then her forehead with such tenderness that her eyes stung with tears.

  “We can make this work. Let’s see a marriage counselor,” she told him.

  He hesitated briefly, and then nodded. “Communication 101?”

  She smiled. “Exactly.”

  “What made you change your mind?” he asked quietly, his voice unsteady.

  She rested her head against his chest where she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “It cost you everything to let me go, but you did it anyway because you thought it was the only thing I wanted. It’s not true. The only thing I really wanted was to know that you loved me as much as I loved you.” Her lips tugged into a contented smile. “And now I know.”

  Epilogue

  Training and practice allowed Gabriel Cruz to keep his face impassive as the jury filed into the room and took their seats. Inside, his heart pounded in spite of the deep and even breaths he forced himself to take. Thousands of hours of work, of research and preparation, boiled down to this single moment in time.

  The judge presiding over the hearings looked at the jury. “Do you have the verdict?”

  An elderly woman rose to her feet. “We do, your honor.”

  “How do you find the defendant?”

  Gabriel, who occupied the district attorney’s seat, glanced over his shoulder at the slender woman who sat behind him in the audience. Lily Herald’s face was pale, her expression pinched. Her fingers had worked the fringed edges of her black scarf into nasty little knots. She looked up and offered him a tremulous smile.

  The elderly woman, the foreman of the jury, spoke in clear and ringing tones. “Your honor, on the charge of attempted homicide in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty as charged.”

  Lily released an explosive breath. She burst into tears and hunched over, burying her face in her hands. The older man seated beside her, her father, drew her close and stroked gentle hands down her back, supporting her and calming her as the judge pronounced his sentence. The wardens removed the convicted criminal, Lily’s ex-husband, and the case was closed.

  The pivotal moment passed without excessive fanfare, but it was life changing nevertheless.

  Gabriel stood up and walked over to Lily. With a heart-wrenching sob, Lily turned to him. Her shoulders heaved as she buried her face against him. They had traveled a strange path together, first as divorce attorney and client, and then as district attorney and victim. He did not move until Lily pulled away from him. Her smile was wan as she tried to dry the tears she had spilled on him. “I’m so sorry about your suit.”

  “No worries.”

  Lily looked around the almost empty courtroom. “I missed…what did the judge say?”

  “Life imprisonment. His parole eligibility is fixed at twenty-five years. It was the heaviest penalty the judge could impose. You won, Lily.”

  “No, you did,” she said. “Thank you. I’m grateful, so grateful. I owe you so much more than I can ever repay.” Her smile was steadier. “I’ve claimed so much of your life these past few months. You should go.” She looked over his shoulder. “And I think your wife is waiting for you.”

  Gabriel glanced back. Valeria stood by the door. She smiled when his gaze rested on her. Even at that distance, he could see the diamonds that glittered on her hand—a celebration of their life and love together.

  In contrast, Lily’s hands were mercifully unadorned. She had paid dearly, much too dearly, for her divorce.

  Gabriel escorted Lily back to her parents and her two-year-old daughter, who were also waiting at the back of the courtroom. Silently, with his arm around Valeria, he watched Lily leave her old life and begin her new life, surrounded and supported by the love of her family.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Valeria said softly.

  Gabriel nodded. “She’s strong—a great deal stronger than she ever gave herself credit for. I’m glad I put that bastard away.” He shook his head and exhaled a sigh. “When did you get here?”

  “About an hour ago. I came as soon as Peter’s mock trial ended.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  Valeria dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand. “You had other important stuff to do.”

  “How did his trial go?”

  “Oh, it was awesome. He ended up fining one of the big oil companies twenty billion dollars.”

  Gabriel winced. “Really?”

  “A month.”

  He laughed. “I guess our gas prices are going up.”

  “It’s way past time to switch to solar, as Peter says.” Valeria leaned against Gabriel. “I’m sure you know his trial has only reinforced his desire to become a judge.”

  “Has anyone told him yet that he has to become a lawyer first?”

  “Yes, his parents broke the bad news to him last night. He asked me to ask you if you’d be his mentor.”

  “Me?”

  “He wants to know what classes to take.”

  “In middle school?”

  “He’s very determined to make it.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “With that much resolve, he likely will. I barely remember what classes I took in college, never mind middle school, but a chat every now and again would probably keep him focused.”

  “And inspired.”

  A smile crept up on him. Focus and inspiration. The former was his strength; the latter Valeria’s—and they were not the opposing forces he had once imagined them to be. He and Valeria had finally found room for both forces to connect in their relationship, instead of chalking them up to irresolvable personality differences.

  Leaning against him, she smiled up at him. “You did the right thing, you know, leaving private practice to join the district attorney’s office. You were magnificent. You love your career again; I can see it in your eyes.”

  Neither he nor Valeria had any illusions about the lifestyle changes imposed by the vast salary differential between a partner in a private law firm and a district attorney, but they had made that decision together as equal partners in their marriage. His grip tightened around her waist. “Thank you for supporting a change in the grand plan of our life.”

  She laughed, low
and husky. “Just as long as we get to the finish line together.”

  He lowered his head and smiled into the tender kiss he breathed on her lips. “You know we will, always.”

  THE END

  Turn the page and continue Love Letters with this excerpt from ENSNARED

  Ensnared

  They were named for the archangels. They should have come with warning labels.

  The two Falconer boys, Raphael and Michael, were named for the archangels. I know they are anything but. At twenty-two, I married Raphael, the first Falconer boy. By twenty-five, I was divorced. I traded my wedding ring for two near-fatal bullet wounds—and it was the best damned trade of my life.

  Now it’s time to go back to the place where it began, where Michael, the second Falconer boy, waits; his life on pause ever since I married his brother.

  He’s convinced I’m there to destroy his life.

  He’s not wrong….

  CHAPTER ONE

  Michael Falconer knew his day took a turn for the worse the moment he pushed open the door to the Wave Café and all eyes flashed in his direction. He looked down; his fly was zipped. Check. So what exactly was the problem?

  The problems, in plural, were the sympathetic, even pitying, expressions cast his way.

  He looked over the heads of the seated customers and caught the eye of Anna Ludlow, the owner of the café and his occasional Friday night date. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

  “Oh, Michael.” Anna scurried from behind the counter and wrapped her arms around him. “Haven’t you heard?”

  Heard? Heard what? His older brother, Raphael’s trial for the attempted murder of his ex-wife, Lily Herald, had been the hottest news in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, but that was six months ago. That particular bit of news needed to stay six months in the past.

  The opinionated and interfering people of Portsmouth needed something new, something juicy, to sink their teeth into. Perhaps this latest piece of gossip—whatever it was—would provide an alternative to the unwelcomed spotlight shining on the Falconer family.

  “Patricia was just hired to clean and prepare their vacation home for a long-term stay,” Anna intoned in a stage whisper. “She’s coming back.”

  “Who is?” A splinter of dread lodged in Michael’s heart. How many waterfront vacation homes were there in Portsmouth? Not many, and the most lavish of them all was owned by the Herald family.

  Anna’s eyebrows arched. “Lily Herald, of course!”

  The curse words tangled in Michael’s mind didn’t make it past his lips.

  He did not swear aloud easily. For more than seventy-five years, his father and his grandfather had been the ministers of the church at the corner of Islington Street and Chapel Street; swearing—among other things—had been frowned upon for a second-generation pastor’s kid.

  But mostly, his mind blanked.

  “Michael?” The alarm in Anna’s voice recalled him.

  He blinked and refocused on her. “What?”

  “Did you hear? Lily—”

  “Yeah, I heard.” Michael headed to the counter and dug out his wallet. He gave the kid behind the register a nod and hoped that the tugging motion at his cheeks looked more like a smile than a grimace. “I’ll have a burger and fries to go.”

  Anna’s footsteps sounded behind him. Her gentle hand rested on his bicep. He tensed at the touch.

  “Do your parents know?” she asked.

  “Probably not yet.”

  Anna sighed softly. “How are they doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “I haven’t seen them since they moved to Woodworth Avenue.”

  “It’s farther out from the old town.” Michael tossed up the obvious excuse even though he knew, as did everyone else, that the extra five miles wasn’t the reason his parents rarely left their house. He drummed his fingers on the countertop and tried not to scowl. If Anna was looking for a reaction, she had better not hold her breath. He was done with Lily; he had been for three years now.

  Anna continued. “It’s going to be tough on them if Lily comes back.”

  Yeah, well, Lily had a way of making waves. She always had. Where was that damned burger?

  “Do you know why she’s coming?” she asked.

  Michael spread his hands in a what-the-hell gesture. Did he look like he ran a confessional? Did the people of Portsmouth really think he still knew what Lily was up to? The days when he had believed he and Lily were soul mates were long past. He shrugged. “Haven’t spoken to her since she got married.”

  “Would your sister know?”

  Michael glanced at Anna. For an instant, his mind overlaid an image of a flat-faced bulldog across her pretty features. He sighed. “Maybe. Guess I could call her.” He exchanged a twenty for the paper bag the kid behind the counter set in front of him, waving his hand to negate an offer of change. “Have a good one.”

  He did not have to look over his shoulder to know that every gaze followed him from the café. God, he hated the spotlight. He had endured it three years earlier when Lily married Raphael. He had endured it yet again six months earlier when Raphael was sentenced to life imprisonment for attempting to kill Lily.

  Lily. It was always Lily.

  He grimaced. I’m not getting sucked back in. The last time had cost him everything.

  Michael shoved thoughts of Lily aside. It was easy. He’d had years of practice. He got into his car and drove across the old town of Portsmouth to the chapel-turned-cottage he was restoring. The church had moved to new premises several years earlier. Three years ago, he had purchased it for a bargain price at the city auction in exchange for his promise to restore and maintain the eighteenth-century building.

  He understood why the town planners didn’t want an ultra-modern townhouse standing where the stone chapel had been, but he hadn’t known how much time and money his project would require.

  Sure wasn’t worth the tax break.

  But then again, he hadn’t purchased it for the tax break.

  He walked into his home and looked around. Three years and thousands of hours of work later, the building was livable. The foundation was solid. The support structures were sturdy, and the roof was new. Pretty was still a long way in the future, but Michael didn’t need pretty. Several months earlier, as soon as he had the bathroom plumbing fixed, he had finally moved out from his parents’ place and into the chapel.

  The back room, formerly the pastor’s office and study, had been converted to a master bedroom with an attached bath. The sanctuary, with its magnificent open layout and large stained-glass windows, became the living room, kitchen, and dining room. The mismatched furniture scattered around the open space were family hand-me-downs and Salvation Army castoffs, but the chairs didn’t break under his weight—although one of them did creak in a rather alarming way—and the bed was comfortable. He couldn’t really ask for more.

  Lily would have loved what he had done to the old chapel.

  Michael scowled and shoved her out of his mind yet again. He scarfed down his burger, left the fries untouched, and started to sand the spiral staircase that led up to the loft over the large master bedroom. At that moment, the loft was little more than hardwood floors covered by a thin layer of dust, but he could envision the transformation of that space, bathed in sunshine from its many skylights, into a study with cozy reading nooks, or perhaps a child’s play area.

  It would be beautiful, he reflected. In about ten years.

  He could accelerate the work by bringing in contractors, but it required money he didn’t have. Besides, he enjoyed the physical labor most of the time. He sat on the lower step and began sanding the rough edges of the wooden staircase.

  Why was Lily Herald coming back to town?

  She wasn’t even a local girl. The waterfront house her family owned was a vacation home, and one that she had not visited since she had gotten married and moved with Raphael to New York City. What could she possibly want in Portsmouth?

 
Would she return just to rub salt into his parents’ open emotional wounds?

  Michael paused to stretch out the aching muscles in his back and shoulders. She wouldn’t, would she? Cruelty wasn’t her style.

  But then again, how would he know what her style was? He had thought he knew her, and she had proved him wrong. He didn’t dare make any bets on why Lily was returning to town, but his parents would need answers.

  He needed answers.

  Michael shook his head. He inhaled deeply and forced himself to relax his shoulders as he exhaled. Instead, the muscles in his neck and upper back clenched into knots. What he really needed was a swim; he had to clear his head.

  He repacked his duffle bag for another visit to the athletic center. Once in his car, he reached for his smartphone to call his sister, who lived in Los Angeles, eking out a living as a bartender while waiting for her lucky break in acting.

  “’ello?” Ariel mumbled into the phone.

  Michael glanced at his watch. He should have known better than to expect his sister to be awake. “Ariel. It’s Michael.”

  “Is Dad okay?” was Ariel’s immediate question. She had always been something of a daddy’s girl.

  “Yes, he is.” Though not for much longer now that Lily’s coming back to town. “Have you heard from Lily?”

  “Last time was just after she’d given birth. Complete radio silence since.” Ariel yawned loudly into the phone. “Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “The next time you’re ‘just wondering,’ send me a freaking e-mail instead, okay?”

  He knew Ariel was moments away from hanging up on him. “She’s coming back to Portsmouth.”

  Silence greeted him.

  “Ariel? Are you still there? Did you hear—?”

  “Yes, I heard you.” Ariel’s vibrant tone had suddenly gone flat. “Wow, that’s gutsy of her.”

  “Gutsy?”

  “Yeah. I bet most of the town is still rooting for Raphael to get vindicated or something.”