The Broken One

by Cardello, Ruth

  “Are there photos of him with her?” Erica asked.

  Their search brought up photos of a much-younger version of him on his honeymoon. Laughing. Carefree. Totally in love. Not much after that.

  “Doesn’t look like he was as successful before she died,” Teri said quietly. “There isn’t much on him from then.”

  Erica touched my arm. “Classic. He threw himself into work. He must have loved her very much.”

  Wiping tears from the corners of my eyes, I said, “What a sad story.”

  “It’s actually good news.”

  I sniffed. “How could it be?”

  Erica pointed to the photo of him smiling down at his wife. “That’s a man who knows how to love. Some don’t.”

  I hugged my arms around my waist. “Or maybe she was his soul mate, and he has nothing left for anyone else.”

  “Really?” Erica asked in a sarcastic tone. “One day Ava will move out, and you’re going to find yourself alone. It doesn’t have to be that way. Five years, Heather. He’s had time to heal. A man like that is not going to stay single forever. You’re the one who always tells me the secret to happiness is envisioning what you want and going after it. This is your chance to prove that’s not just bullshit you spout to make yourself feel better.”

  “I found his office address if you want it,” Teri offered tentatively.

  “I don’t want to bring negativity into my life,” I said.

  Erica tilted her head at me. “Right now you’re the only negative one in the room. Teri and I think you can land this guy. Don’t we, Teri?”

  “Sure,” Teri said, then smiled. “I could even babysit for you when you go out. I adore Ava.”

  It was crazy.

  It was pointless.

  “What’s in the wrapped box?” I asked.

  “Homemade cookies,” Erica said, clapping her hands together. She knew she was near victory.

  “And you think that would be all it would take for him to ask me out?”

  Crossing her arms in front of her, Erica said, “Men are not as complicated as you think. He’s back in his office probably kicking himself for what he said. Wondering if you liked him.”

  “I slammed the door in his face.” When they both gave me an odd look, I became defensive. “You would have too if you’d heard what he’d said.”

  “Now I’m sure he’s thinking about you. So open that door a little. Just a crack. Nothing softens a man’s heart like my Nanna’s chocolate chip cookies. I still make them for Bob when he gets grumpy—that and oral sex always cheers him up. Write this Sebastian a nice message, nothing too deep. Send him Ava’s note and the cookies. Then go get your nails done, because an invite is a done deal.”

  I couldn’t believe I was considering doing it. “What do you think, Teri?”

  Teri spun in her chair to face me. “Was there a spark? Did you zing when you saw him?”

  I bit my bottom lip briefly. “Oh yes.”

  “Then I’ll line up a courier. Let’s get him these cookies today.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  SEBASTIAN

  I emerged from back-to-back meetings early in the afternoon and closed myself off in my office to set the next phase in our acquisition of Bhatt Markets. None of the snags that had surfaced since our purchase went public were out of the ordinary. Our competition had gone for an injunction to block any construction, completely expected. They’d rained letters from their lawyers on our office—so predictable I almost felt sorry for them. Their resistance would be a speed bump on our way to replacing their chain with our own, and in a year the community would actually appreciate the change. We were bigger. Our prices were lower. And we didn’t mind taking a short-term loss as long as the outcome was the dissolution of our competition. Small businesses couldn’t weather the storms we were willing to create and could afford to ride out.

  Winning was one of the few things that brought me satisfaction. My father liked to say money didn’t equate to happiness, but even before the company had taken off . . . it wasn’t love that had gotten us where we were. I’d worked at the family store and at as many side jobs as necessary to keep our family afloat. My family had moved from Italy to the US so we would have more opportunity, but my father had struggled for a while to break into the market. He thought small, and his relaxed business plans didn’t work in the land of corporate sharks. Before I’d joined, Romano Superstores had been one neighborhood convenience store that had been teetering near bankruptcy. There hadn’t been money for college—for me or for my brothers. I took out loans for my degree, then paid for my siblings via our family’s store. Straight out of college, I’d taken over the business and expanded it from one store to a chain—even when doing so hadn’t made sense on paper.

  Sheer determination carried us through those first few years. Looking back, I don’t know why Therese married me. We’d met and fallen in love in college, but my focus after graduation had turned toward my obligation to my parents and siblings. My brothers had graduated without loans, because that had been one of my priorities. My parents had moved into a house in a safer community, because providing for them was a matter of pride for me.

  Sebastian Romano—provider for his family.

  Therese had never complained about the long hours I worked or how little of me was left for her at the end of the day. Despite having a degree, she had accepted my preference that she not work after we were married.

  I’d had an image in my mind of what my family was supposed to be and what my role was in it. I provided. I protected. She managed the house. Had she been happy with the arrangement?

  I never asked her.

  My arrogance and single mindedness had cost me the opportunity of rectifying that or making the changes that would have brought her real joy. She hadn’t complained the day I told her I couldn’t take her to the doctor. It hadn’t been the first time I’d put work above going, and she’d never questioned my decisions.

  What did that say about our marriage?

  What did it say about me?

  I’d had five years to think about it.

  Five years to regret not having been the husband Therese deserved.

  I read an email, then read it again, too lost in my own thoughts to care what it said. Two days past the anniversary of her death, I wasn’t supposed to still be floundering.

  “Mr. Romano?” Miss Steele asked via the intercom on my desk phone.

  “Yes?” I growled.

  “A courier just delivered a package. Should I bring it in to you?”

  “I didn’t order anything.”

  “It looks like a gift.”

  A gift? My birthday was months away. None of the women I’d been with recently were the gift-giving type. It was likely a mistake. “Double-check the name. It’s probably for one of my brothers.”

  “I did. Your name is on the card.”

  “Bring it in.” I wasn’t getting anything productive done anyway.

  I met Miss Steele at the door of my office. She handed me a gift-wrapped square box about twelve inches in diameter. There were two cards taped to the top of it. My name clearly printed on each: one in an adult’s handwriting, one in a child’s.

  I didn’t want it. I almost handed it back to Miss Steele.

  She was smiling, though. “I bet it’s from the family you returned the stuffed animal to yesterday. How adorable is that? She had her daughter write you a note too.”

  Adorable.

  My stomach churned.

  Refusing the gift would raise more questions than I wanted to field again. I thanked my secretary and put the box on a table in my office. I could always dispose of it later.

  Yesterday was done and gone. All the gift had achieved was to remind me I owed the woman an apology. Was that why she’d sent it? Best way to make an asshole feel even worse about himself? Send him a gift?

  I returned to my desk and forced myself to refocus on work. I was engrossed enough that I didn’t notic
e anyone had entered until my brother’s voice surprised me.

  “Just checking in about the acquisition. It seems to be going as expected,” Mauricio said from just inside my office.

  I stood and crossed to where he was standing. “That’s my take on it. I don’t foresee it being any different than what we’ve encountered before.”

  “Good,” he said, rocking back on his heels. Although there was no mistaking that we were brothers, he had our mother’s brown hair and brown eyes. He also had her smile, which he’d used to charm nearly all the single women in our hometown of Brookfield. If he’d spent half as much time on business as he did with his endless string of lovers, he’d still be running the family company. Like my father, the ruthless business gene must have been recessive in him. He did, however, like the lifestyle having money allowed him—fast cars, wild parties, travel.

  He was a good face for the company, though. He could clean up and present himself well. Men and women alike enjoyed his company. Having him around saved me from attending business-related social events.

  “Hey, what’s this?” he asked as he spotted the gift box on the table.

  I cursed myself for not stashing it in the closet. “A thank-you from the woman with the stuffed animal.” No reason to hedge, the truth was obvious from the notes still attached to the top.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “I’m working.”

  He tore one of the envelopes from the box. Ava’s. “You should at least read the notes. Mind if I do?” He opened it without giving me time to respond one way or the other and read it aloud: “Dear Mr. Romano, thank you for . . . I think the next word is beginning . . . no, bringing . . . thank you for bringing Wolfie home to me. Thank you for being so nice to him. You are my hemo . . . oh, hero.” Mauricio laughed and waved the letter at me. “You’re her hero. That is the sweetest thing. I might cry.”

  Mauricio had taught me early that it was possible to love someone and want to smack the shit out of them. That luxury had departed along with childhood—sadly.

  He reached for the second card. “This one must be from the woman Mom says is perfect for you. Helene? Hailey?”

  “Heather,” I said, then groaned because his smug grin revealed he was giving me shit. I put my hand out. “Give me the damn card.”

  He stepped outside of my reach and tore it open. “‘Dear Mr. Romano.’ So formal. Apparently you didn’t knock her socks off.”

  “Give me the fucking card.” I moved toward him.

  He stepped even farther away and kept reading. “‘Thank you for returning my daughter’s stuffed animal. You brought smiles back to our house. We hope our gift brings a smile to your office. Sincerely, Heather Ellis.’ Sincerely. Not love. You’re not her hero.”

  With one swift move, I ripped the card from his hands. “Are we done now?”

  His grin only widened. “I can’t leave without knowing what she sent.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  His grin faded a bit. “You’re going to throw it away, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t you have work to do?”

  He walked over to the box, picked it up, and shook it near his ear. “What if it’s something amazing?” He turned it in all directions. “Aren’t you curious what a woman thinks would put a smile on your face? Let’s be honest; you’re not a laugh-a-minute kind of guy.”

  “I don’t care what she sent.”

  He flipped the box in his hands, acting like he might drop it. My eyes narrowed, but I didn’t allow myself to reach for it. “That’s a lie, and we both know it. If you didn’t care, you would have opened the box. You’re scared.”

  “And you’re an idiot.”

  “You’re afraid you might like what she sent.” He tucked the box beneath one arm and put his other hand over his heart. “And that, gasp, it might actually make you smile. Then what would you do?”

  “Put the fucking box down.”

  He didn’t. “Not until you admit you liked the woman. Dad said you thought she was beautiful.”

  I sighed. “She was.”

  “So you took her number?”

  “No. She has a kid.”

  “Yeah, I know. Mom told me all about her. If you don’t date her, I think Mom is ready to adopt her. She’s totally stalking her on social media already.”

  “That’s . . . unfortunate, since I have no plans of ever seeing her again.”

  Mauricio flipped the package in the air again. “Maybe I should look her up then. I wouldn’t mind a woman sending me gifts.”

  I closed the distance between us and removed the box from his hands, slamming it down on the table where it had been. “She’s not your type, Mauricio. This is a nice, family woman.”

  “I’m not getting any younger. Who knows, maybe it’s time for me to find a woman like that to settle down with.”

  He was deliberately trying to push my buttons, and for some reason it was working. “If your goal is to piss me off, you’re doing it. I don’t have time for this shit.”

  Still smiling, Mauricio sauntered to the office door and asked, “So it’s okay if I call her, right?”

  I didn’t dignify his question with a response. Instead I closed my office door with enough force to relay my thoughts on the matter. On the way back to my desk, I paused and reread both cards. Ava’s handwriting was difficult to decipher. Some of the words would not have made sense except for Heather’s addition of the correctly spelled word beneath.

  “Thank you for being so nice to him . . .” Ava obviously did not know how close Wolfie had come to the trash bin.

  “We hope our gift brings a smile to your office . . .” I took Heather’s card with me back to my desk and read it through again. It was generously polite, considering what my parting comment had been. There was no hint in it of wanting to hear from me again.

  Which was for the best.

  I threw the card onto my desk and tried to dive back into work, but couldn’t. My thoughts kept returning to how Heather had thrown herself into my arms when she’d first seen Wolfie. Joy filled. Uninhibited. Exactly the way a man wants to be greeted just before he carries his woman off to bed.

  She was an educated woman, one who ran her own business, and it showed in the confident way she’d looked at me. Her attire might have been office appropriate, but her demeanor had been warm and relaxed. She hadn’t seemed at all bothered by the chaos of the children, and her protectiveness of her daughter had been clear. It was a combination of strength and softness I found appealing.

  As appealing as I’d found the rest of her.

  I shook my head.

  Connecticut was full of single women—many as attractive if not more attractive than she was. There was no need to spend another moment thinking about how perfectly she’d fit against me or how the scent of her had sent my blood rushing straight to my cock.

  Intelligent women were not a rarity. Nothing about her was unique. I could find all of that in another woman who didn’t have a child.

  I remembered the feel of Ava tightly hugging my neck. Initially it had brought back nothing beyond a sadness that my own child would never hug me that way. Having read her letter, though, I had to admit it felt good to know I had returned the smile to her face.

  Her hero.

  She could do a lot better than me, but I didn’t hate the idea that something I had done had brought joy to the child.

  I ran my hands through my hair and tried to shake off all thoughts of Heather and her child. I might have brought them comfort, but they were stopping me from being able to close the door on May 20. Two days, and I was still looking back, still wasting time hating myself for things I could do nothing about.

  If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up at a liquor store again . . . and that was something I refused to allow to happen. At least, not until May 20 came around again.

  Through sheer willpower alone, I pushed through emails and a pile of paperwork. The sun had set, and Miss Steele was long gone by the time I c
losed down my computer and pushed back from my desk.

  I walked over to the table where the gift still sat and stood there for a moment simply looking down at it. What the hell. I tore off the wrapping and pulled back the cardboard. Inside, wrapped in clear plastic wrap, was a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

  Homemade cookies. Many of them broken, but no less delicious looking.

  I lifted the plate out and inhaled.

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d worked through lunch and dinner.

  Perhaps because I was so hungry, or because I hadn’t indulged in a cookie for years, I savored one bite. It was soft and chewy with a hint of nuts. Perfection.

  I stuffed the rest of the cookie into my mouth, then licked the bit of chocolate that had stayed on my thumb. It tasted like childhood and laughter. Memories of wrestling with my brothers over after-school treats brought a smile to my face.

  I didn’t expect something as simple as a cookie to affect my mood as much as it did. Yet I was still smiling as I rode down the elevator, gift box tucked under my arm.

  CHAPTER TEN

  * * *

  HEATHER

  Every parent knows the dread of a surprise fever. Ava had been fine the night before, a little restless, but I thought it was because she was still so excited to have Wolfie home. When she refused breakfast—I knew.

  A temp of a hundred was enough to keep her home, but not enough to impress our pediatrician into giving us medicine. He told me to let her rest, give her plenty of fluids, and watch for any other symptoms.

  I called Erica. She echoed his advice, then apologized for not being free that day to watch her. She had her own doctor appointments set up but could cancel them if I really needed her to.

  Of course I couldn’t ask her to do that.

  My third call was to my assistant to tell her I was working from home that day. Luckily there wasn’t much I couldn’t do on my laptop as long as Ava was quiet. With her snuggled up to my side on the couch, I turned on cartoons for her and went through my morning emails.