by Jane Henry
“I’m telling you the truth, baby,” I say, my voice pleading, and I think Lexi sighs a little. “Everything I’ve done was for you.”
Miranda shakes her head from side to side. “I can’t… it’s too much, Gabriel. The intimacy we’ve shared in such a short time.” She bites her lip, her face pained. “It’s so hard for me to go back to that place of trusting you after this.”
“Yessiree,” Lexi mutters.
Right then, my phone rings. I glance quickly at the incoming call, perplexed. A call from California?
“California,” I say to Miranda. Then it dawns on me. “Could be your mom’s place?”
She blinks, then nods. I answer the call. “Hello?”
“May I speak with a Mr. Lord, please?”
“Speaking.”
I turn away from Miranda as I take the call. “Mr. Lord, you’re listed as the primary contact for one of our residents.”
“Yes. That’s correct. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sir, everything’s okay for now. But we need to alert the daughters of Miss Montague.”
“They’re right here with me.” I have Lexi and Miranda’s eyes on me. I put the phone on speaker so they can hear what she’s saying.
“She’s had an accidental fall, Mr. Lord. It appears she’s had a stroke.”
I take in a deep breath and face the girls. “Is she stable?”
Miranda’s eyes widen, and Lexi covers her mouth with her hand.
“Yes. She’s been moved to the hospital and we’re running some tests now. But she’s lucid and she’s asking for her daughters.”
I nod. “We’ll be there this evening.”
I hang up the phone, and face both of them. “We’ll take my jet. I don’t care what you think about me or how you feel right now. We’re going to check on your mother.” They stare at me as I dial a second number.
“Yeah, boss?”
“We need a ride and the jet, Shane. We’re going back to California.”
Chapter Eighteen
Miranda
As always, Gabriel does everything he can to help us. He brings us to his jet; his jet will take us to California. He’ll bring us to where we need to go, to see Mom, making sure every step of the way we’re taken care of.
But he’s a stalker! I protest internally. He’s obsessed!
But he’s a nice stalker, the other part of me counters. God! Is that a thing?
We’ll be with my mother only hours after we got the call. A totally impossible feat if it weren’t for Mr. Lord.
Mr. Lord, the God of making all my dreams come true.
Then crushing them with his lies. Not lies, my heart reminds me, just not telling the whole truth. But isn’t that the same thing? My brain is less forgiving, arguing back with, anything less than the whole truth is deception.
And deception is a lie.
I sneak a look at Gabriel from the corner of my eye. He sits across the aisle from me, only an arm’s length away, but he couldn’t feel farther. He catches my glimpse and gives me a hope-filled smile.
Gazing at him only reminds me of the things we’ve done on this plane. His hands on my body. His hot, greedy mouth between my thighs. The word daddy falling from my tongue, free and filthy. The afterglow of our lovemaking leaving me satisfied and fulfilled.
I look away.
I feel a nudge on my elbow. He’s trying to get my attention. I look over. He pokes me with a little white folded piece of paper. A note. Lexi is sleeping beside me. I lower my voice to a hiss so I don’t wake her. “I’m still mad.”
He widens those beautiful green eyes, poking me once more with the corner of the paper. I don’t want to take it; I don’t want to give him hope. But what girl can resist a love note?
Giving him a cool look I hold my hand out, expecting him to simply place the note in my palm. He does. But in the most sexual way possible.
He cradles my hand in his. With his other, he places the note in the center of my palm. Closes my fingers over it, ever so slowly, caressing my skin and sending tingles down my arm as he moves. He pulls my hand toward him, leans over, and kisses my finger, making my skin dance from the soft brush of his lips.
The kiss is heavenly, even though it comes from a lying devil.
I hold the note in my lap. I take my time unfolding it—let him squirm. There on the paper is his familiar handwriting. Tall and even and impeccable.
Perfect penmanship for the most imperfect man. The thought makes my heart sink, reminding me it’s over.
But then… I read the words he’s written on the paper.
My dearest Miranda —
You need to know, even though we’ve only been together a short while, you’ve forever changed me.
I am wiser now because of you—You made me see that delaying the truth is nothing more than a lie.
I am humble now because of you—I understand that though I may have the best intentions, they do not excuse my wrongful actions.
I am grateful because of you—The feeling you gave me was priceless, a memory I’ll forever cherish.
And even if you leave me, I hope I’ll still be in your heart.
Even if you leave me, you’ll always be my babygirl.
With all my love.
Gabriel
Damn him. Damn him for making these tears stream down my face, hot and fast, and with them a heavy sense of loss and love. Damn him for making me ugly cry and wipe my nose with the back of my shirt sleeve. Damn him for making this incredible warmth grow in my chest, feeling as if it will burst—my heart never feeling fuller than right now after reading these words.
Damn him.
I fold the note back. Slip it into my bag. Sneak a look at my sister. She’s still sleeping. I attempt to make some improvement upon my appearance, cleaning up the tears and taking deep breaths.
Another nudge. This time, a box of tissues. Unable to look at him, I take them, murmuring, “Thank you.” Thank you for breaking my heart, and trying to repair it. And, thank you for the tissues.
I can feel his anticipation, as he waits for me to reply to the outpouring of his love. I can’t. Time grows and with it, the space between us. Now, sadness seems to cloud around him. He settles back in his seat. Retrieves his phone. Pretending to scroll through the news.
What do I say?
The image of his black inked words on that white paper flash in my mind — With all my love. The phrase spins round and round in my mind. With. All. My. Love. Does that mean he… loves me?
Because despite his mistakes, I know I’ve fucking fallen for him.
I want to tell him that I love him. That I forgive him. That this note he’s written and I’ve slipped into my bag I will keep and cherish forever. But my throat tightens and the words don’t come.
The stewardess is headed in our directions. She gives a pearly white smile, straightening her navy blazer. “We’re just about to land.” She rests her arm on the seat before Gabriel, making idle chatter. I don’t miss the way she looks at him, her face lighting up. I don’t miss the way she leans a little closer. He’s polite as always but I can hear the detachment in his tone. Jealousy stirs in me, and I want to shove her back to the cockpit.
Jesus. I guess I’m not as detached as I should be.
Lexi rouses beside me, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Have we arrived?”
The moment has passed. I need to be in charge again, to show Lexi we can handle this. To show Gabriel, too. And maybe even myself.
The ride to the hospital is silent, the mood somber. Broken hearts and romantic entanglements forgotten with every mile we grow closer to my mom. I want to know how bad the stroke was, and if there is any long term damage.
How is she feeling? Is she in pain?
I stare out the window, wanting this ride to be over, needing this aching in my chest to disappear. He slides his arm around my shoulders, and it feels so good, I let him leave it there. The weight of his body against mine, his simple gesture of protection, it’s w
hat I need to get through this.
Once again, he’s saving the day. Saving me. Saving my family.
And what for? I sneak a glance at him. He smiles down at me with warmth and hope.
He does all this—for me. For no reason other than he wants to. He wants to make me happy. To keep me safe. To help me, to help my family. With all his love.
I want to forgive him. I need to forgive him. “Gabriel, I—”
My sister's eyes narrow, her sharp tongue cutting me off. “Miranda. We’re here.” The car pulls to a stop and she’s opening the door without waiting for the driver to do it. “Let’s go.”
She waits for me, arm over the top of the door, her eyes never leaving me. The heat from her gaze won’t let me say what I need to say. I slip from the seat, from his arm, and exit the car.
He grabs my hand, pulling me back, and I’m lost in those eyes. His face is inches from mine. If I leaned in just a touch, or he came my way, our lips would meet. He holds my hand, my gaze. “Miranda, I’m going to go. I’m going back to Vegas. You need to be with your mom and your sister right now, not distracted by whatever this is going on between us.”
“Alright. Thank you…” My heart cries No, stay. Don’t leave. But he’s right. I can only seem to think about him when he’s around. If he goes, I’ll be able to sort this out, to support my mom the way I need to. To figure out how to help her. And decide what I want from him.
But he’ll be so far from me. And I’ve relied so heavily on him to stay strong.
He gives a pained smile. “I’m just going to pick up some food for you all. I’ll come in to drop it off for you and say goodbye. Then, I’ll leave.”
“That’s very kind of you.” I feel kinda bad he came all this way just to leave again. A part of me wants to tell him to stay, not to go. At least I’ll see him once more before he goes.
I turn away, following my sister into the hospital.
Hand in hand we find the nurses’ station. For once, it's Lexi who takes charge. She leans over the tall desk. “Excuse me, we’re here to visit our mother, Ms. Montague?”
The nurse looks up with a kind smile. Her name tag says Emmie in bright blue letters. “Yes. You’re her daughters, the ones from Vegas? My, you made it here in record time. You girls have your own private jet or something?” She laughs.
Lexi snorts. “Something like that.”
Emmie points down the hall. “She’s in room 203. Let me tell you, she is such a doll. She’s been trying to convince us all to read this romance series she’s into. Something about the mafia? That woman loves her mafia romance.”
Lexi’s hand flutters over her heart. “Wait—she’s alright?”
“Yes. She did have a stroke at the care facility. Had a little fall, but luckily no injuries from that. They brought her here and after doing some tests, they found it was what we call a mini-stroke, a TIA. The doctor will explain more to you, but she’s alright for now and there’s no long term damage.” Emmie stands from her seat. “Let me take you to her.”
We follow her down the hall. Room 203. Nurse Emmie goes in first. “Ms. Montague, your daughters have arrived and they are just as beautiful as you said they were.”
I lay eyes on my mom and a huge sigh of relief leaves my lungs. I don’t know what I was expecting to see, maybe her skin pale, her body frail? But she looks just like she did when I last left California.
She’s waving that damn book in the air. Gabriel practically winks at me from the cover. “I told you they were gorgeous, Em. And tough, too. I tell you what, they could hold their own with any one of these mobster men.”
“Mom! I’m so glad you’re alright.” Lexi rushes to her bedside, hugging her and kissing her cheek.
I go to the other side of the bed. Her hand feels a little cold and when I kiss her, her cheek is warmer than last time, but other than that, she seems fine. “The nurse told us you were trying to recruit some romance readers in here.”
My mom nods. “Yep. I tell you what. These books get a bad rap but there’s a lot of heart and soul in here. And my goodness, the men are hot.” She fans herself with the book.
Emmie laughs. “Alright girls, I’ll let you visit.”
The nurse goes to leave, but my mom calls out to stop her. “Hang on a second, Em.” She holds up the book. Gabriel’s black and white eyes stare right into mine. “I saved the best part for when my Miranda was here.”
Emmie smiles. “Oh, yeah? What’s that, hon?”
My mom waves the book, her fingers hovering right to Gabriel’s perfect nose. “That’s Miranda’s man on the cover. He’s a model.”
“Lucky girl.” The nurse gives me a wink that says she’s playing along, a nice way of telling me that she knows my mother suffers from dementia. “He’s a looker.”
I don’t bother to clarify the truth. Am I dating this man? Because I honestly don’t even know for sure if I am...
She leaves and Lexi and I pull up chairs by my mother's bedside. As we chat, my fears and worries dissolve. Mom not only seems fine, she seems more lucid than usual.
A half hour later, there’s a knock on the open door. The rustling of takeout bags. Emmie’s voice, full of surprise. “Well hot damn, Ms. Montague, if he isn’t just as real as you said he was.”
I look over my shoulder. Gabriel stands, filling the doorway, his hands full of the handles of takeout bags. There must be enough food for fifty people in those carryouts. He gives me a guilty shrug. “I got Italian, but didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for.”
Emmie gives a hoot. “Gorgeous and feeds a woman, too? I tell you this man is too good to be true.”
I cringe at the words. Too good to be true. Too good to be true. The phrase repeats, intrusive and ugly.
Lexi flies up from her seat, rushing over and taking the bags from him, the scent of garlic and tomatoes filling the room. She looks pointedly at Emmie. “Yeah—something like that.” Then leaves him without a thank you.
Emmie gives Lexi a disapproving look, and leaves, mumbling, “If that were my man…”
He stands there, empty handed. Gazing at me. I stand from my seat and walk over to him. I’m not sure what to say, so I land on thanking him. “Gabriel. Thank you. For everything.”
He leans down, kissing my cheek. “If you need anything, I’m only a phone call away.”
My throat feels tight, and my eyes burn. I’m afraid I’ll cry again, so I give him a silent nod and turn to go back to my mother and sister.
He stops me, grabbing my hand, and pulls me into him. His mouth is by my ear, his breath rustling my hair. I can smell his scent—clean and masculine and familiar. “Miranda. I am so. So. Sorry.”
He releases me. Kisses my forehead fiercely. Then he’s gone, leaving me breathless, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. I want to go after him. I want to tell him to come back. But a part of me’s afraid to do that, to let myself get hurt again.
I’m shaking when I return to my family, taking the styrofoam takeout tray my sister hands me. I open the lid. Chicken Marsala. One of my absolute favorites. I wonder how he knew… my spine stiffens.
He knew everything.
Lexi dives into a chicken parm she dug out of one of the big brown paper bags. “Good riddance.” She gives a sniff.
Her harsh words make me bristle. I defend him, anger laced in my words. “You say that, but when Mom needed help, who was there for us? And when you needed nothing more than to get out of California, who sent you a private jet? And then when Mom needed us again, who made it happen?”
She gives me a guilty roll of her eyes. She knows she’s being too harsh. Still, she has to add a sassy remark. “He’s still a stalker. And anyway, I am done with men.”
“Oh yeah?” I shoot back. “I’ll say his name and I betcha blush.”
She flushes pink and closes her mouth, looking away.
I give her a frustrated sigh. Then I remember what she’s just gone through. How her heart is bitter and torn, and for good reaso
n.
I let it go.
Mom twirls a few strands of her Spaghetti Bolognese around the prongs of her fork.
“What do you mean, stalker? What is all this?”
“He looked into her past,” Lexi says, her eyes flashing. “He had a key to her apartment!”
Mom frowns. “He sounds obsessed and possessive, not like a stalker.”
“That’s what a stalker is!” Lexi protests, taking an angry, enormous bite out of a slice of garlic bread.
“Girls, girls. A stalker is obsessed, but it’s unwanted attention.” She waves a fork at me. “Thought I raised smarter girls than this.”
“I can’t believe you’re lecturing us on this!” Lexi gives me an incredulous look, and I don’t know what surprises her more, Mom taking Gabriel’s side, or her momentary lucidity.
Mom gives a shrug. “Stalker sch-malker. Your father was insanely attracted to me, you know.”
Lexi and I share a look. I blink in surprise. I want to hear this.
“Was he?”
“Ohhhh, yes. He knew every shift I worked at the diner, and he would just so happen to be there when I opened and when I closed. He knew where I lived before I brought him home, knew what I was studying in college…” She rolls her eyes. “So I guess that makes your father a ‘stalker.’” She makes air quotes, and I stare at her, open-mouthed.
“And furthermore. That man is gorgeous. And he can cook.”
Lexi gives her a funny look. “Mom, you know he didn’t cook this right? It’s takeout.” It’s like she’s trying to find somewhere to poke a hole in Mom’s argument.
“I know, but I heard he makes a mean omelet. And more importantly, he loves you.”
Lexi’s voice is soft. “Love is a strong word, Mom.”
Mom doesn’t back down. “A strong word for a strong emotion. He loves her and that’s a fact. It’s written all over that handsome face of his. And he never hurt her. I know a good man a mile away, girls, and let me tell you, that one’s a keeper. He loves you.”
He loves me... her words surprise me. Is she talking about the book cover, or him, the real man? “Gabriel? The man I came to your house with. The man that brought us the food tonight.”
