by Sabrina York
He shook his head. “I want more. Don’t you want more, Roni?” And, when she didn’t answer, he asked, “Don’t you understand? I want more with you, Roni. A family, children.”
Acid rose in her throat. She glanced at her wrist, saw the tremble. “It’s getting late. I have a ton of stuff to do.” She pushed away from the table, pulled her hand from his hold and stood. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“Roni—”
“Later,” she said firmly, and then, before he could respond, she headed down the stairs to the bakery, leaving him all alone in an empty room.
* * *
“Well, did she say it was over?” Luke asked over his coffee.
Mark had gone straight to the B&G after he left Roni’s—certainly not for an early-morning beer—and found his brother there having a late breakfast. The two of them sat at a semiprivate table at the back of the bar. Because it was between breakfast and lunch, they had most of the place to themselves, which was a good thing, given the topic. No one else needed to hear any of this. Mark had come to Luke after that disturbing conversation with Roni, because he hadn’t known where else to go, and Luke and Roni seemed to have bonded over PTSD and pastries. Luke understood her in a way Mark could not. So, naturally, after his conversation with Roni, he’d turned to Luke.
But Luke’s question was annoying, on so many levels. Mark frowned at him. “Were you even listening?”
Luke shrugged. “You knew what you were getting into. She was honest from the beginning.”
Damn it, he hated when Luke was right.
“Just admit it.” Luke shifted in his seat so he could lean closer. “You thought she was going to realize how perfect life is with you and magically change her mind about relationships. Didn’t you?”
“No.” But he had, hadn’t he? “Are you saying this is my fault?”
Luke barked a laugh. “Who says anyone is at fault? The two of you are either a good fit, or you’re not.”
“We’re a perfect fit,” Mark snarled.
“Except you want marriage and she wants... What is it she wants?”
“I don’t know. Freedom?”
“Yeah, I’d guess safety over freedom, but there you go.”
This comment made Mark’s hackles rise; Luke was good at raising hackles. “She’s totally safe with me.”
Luke snorted. “You know that and I know that, but she doesn’t. Not really. Not deep down in her soul. That’s what PTSD really is. Lingering fear. Tough to root out.”
“I’ve never even lost my temper with her.” That fight they’d just had was as angry as he’d ever been with her, and it had mostly been frustration.
“Doesn’t matter. I remember feeling helpless after my injury, and I’m here to tell you, it’s not that easy to shake. She was in a brutally abusive relationship. She’s been through hell. I can’t imagine being battered on a daily basis, being constantly on edge. What that does to your heart and soul and body? You can’t blame her for trying to protect herself, for wanting to make sure that kind of thing never happens again.”
“How do I prove something like that? How do you prove a negative?”
“You shouldn’t even try.” Luke shrugged. “You should just be yourself.”
“Which, clearly, isn’t enough for her.” He hated that his tone was so morose, but it was. It was his greatest fear come to life, not being enough.
Luke snorted. “You can’t think that way. It’s clear she loves you.”
Did she? He knew she cared. She’d said as much. But caring was a far cry from love. “But maybe not enough to marry me.”
“You need to accept the fact that she may never be ready for that. Ever.”
Accept it? How did a man do that when he felt like this? It was hard loving her when she didn’t feel the same. It hurt. “So you’re saying I should just give up on marriage altogether?”
His brother gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Depends.”
“On what?”
Luke’s grin was crooked, his voice soft. “On whether you want to be with her or not.”
And, yeah, that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?
“You need to have a frank conversation, where you discuss what you each want from this relationship, and find some middle ground you can both be happy with.”
Yeah. He understood what Luke was saying—a part of his soul already knew it. He had to make a decision. Did he love Roni enough to give her the space she needed and maybe even give up some of his own dreams for the woman he cared about so deeply?
It was time for him to make a decision that he would have to live with for the rest of his life.
* * *
After he left, Roni couldn’t help stressing over that aborted fight with Mark. While she regretted running away from the conversation they needed to have, she had to acknowledge that she had good reasons. For one thing, she was confused about her feelings for Mark. He was the kind of man she’d always dreamed of finding. Handsome, smart, funny...gentle.
But her defense mechanisms had burrowed deep. She knew it was fear holding her back, and that irritated her. She wasn’t a coward—she never had been. But, somehow, for some reason, she couldn’t lean in to the concept of being in a real relationship. One with...commitment.
And now—so soon—Mark was talking marriage.
To be honest, it had freaked her out. She’d panicked. She’d overreacted. He’d been nothing but respectful. He’d let her take the lead each time, even though she could tell it cost him to hold back. And he’d been so flipping patient with her. He had done everything right.
Maybe it was only natural that he would start asking for more. Maybe she should never have even opened this door. The last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt him.
She loved everything about their relationship, especially the fact that there were no strings attached. She was free to walk away whenever she wanted to...
But did she? Want to walk away from him?
Never.
So where did this fear come from? Why did she resist making a commitment for something she wanted more than breath?
When she dug deep, and was really honest with herself, she knew.
She hadn’t been honest with him. She hadn’t told him the whole truth about the things Anthony had done to her. She hadn’t shared the details of that horrible night when she’d lost her baby.
He obviously wanted children. She couldn’t have them. And she was pretty sure, once Mark knew the truth, he wouldn’t want to be with her anymore.
That was what she’d been protecting herself from.
But in protecting herself, she’d hurt him, the man she loved. And, yes, she loved him. There was no denying it.
If she told him the hard truth, she could lose it all, and just thinking about it hurt more than she could bear. But she owed him the truth. He deserved to know everything, no matter how agonizing it would be for her to talk about it.
With her decision made, a weight lifted from her soul and she felt better. Oh, she still dreaded telling him and seeing his reaction. She clung to the possibility that he might not mind, as flimsy a prospect as it was. He wanted lots of children. She couldn’t even give him one.
As always, she forced these dark thoughts from her mind, and focused on her work. She needed to get started on Thanksgiving pies, because the orders for those just kept coming in, but first she had to finish a project she’d been delighted to take on—a birthday cake for one of the Story Hour regulars who was turning six, one of Emma’s little friends.
It had been so fun to plan out the superhero cake and decorate it with proportionately sized gum-paste characters—the stars of his favorite comic book. Roni smiled to herself as she piped speech bubbles with “pow,” “wham” and “thwack” onto the sides of the cake in bright primary colors. She couldn’t wait for Justin to see it a
t the party tonight.
In fact, she was generally excited about the party. Would Mark be there? He was friends with Justin’s dad. Of course, a child’s birthday party was not the venue for the conversation she needed to have with him, but maybe she could feel him out. Get a sense of how angry he’d really been when she’d shut him down. Like a coward.
She sighed heavily. She hadn’t been fair with him, had she? Not from the beginning. He deserved better than—
Oh, dear. She realized it probably wasn’t a good idea to think of Mark while she was supposed to be concentrating on her work. She pulled out a little palette knife to wipe away a frosting error and spent several minutes fixing it. She was so focused, she didn’t even look up when the bell over the door rang.
“Well, well, well. Look at you.”
Roni froze. Her heart clenched at the sound of that deep, familiar voice. Her hand clenched around the piping bag, too, and icing spurted out, all over her carefully created masterpiece. From his spot curled up on the divan on the other side of the shop, Snoopy growled low in his throat.
She stared at the mess she’d made for a blind moment. Then fury rose and overcame her fear. She whirled and glowered at her ex-husband. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Anthony stepped back, eyes wide. It occurred to her that she’d never snarled at him before—he’d preferred it when she was submissive and silent.
She wasn’t submissive anymore. “Well?”
It took a second for him to collect himself, to morph back into the man she remembered—big, superior, intimidating. It was an odd thing to see, watching him become a predator right before her eyes. But she saw something else. She saw that moment, that flicker in his eye, where he’d felt doubt.
And that was all she needed.
When he leaned forward, crowding her in the way he always did, she stood her ground.
“You had to know I would come for you as soon as they let me out.” His breath was warm, moist against her cheek. Still, she stared him down.
“Why did they let you out?” Surely it was way too early.
A smile uncoiled on his face; in that moment, he looked like the cat that had caught the canary. And she was the canary. “Good behavior,” he said in a smug tone.
“Well, you need to leave.”
He grabbed her arm and whipped her around—her back to his chest, his arms locked around her as he whispered in her ear. “But I missed you, honey.” His tone was cold as steel, and for a moment, she felt as helpless as ever in his grip.
But she remembered how much time she’d spent fighting her way back, healing her wounds in body and mind. Coming back here. Building a life of her own. She’d vowed to never be under anyone’s thumb again, to never be helpless again.
She’d be damned if she’d let him take everything away from her.
As though he heard her thoughts, his hold tightened and he said, “You’re mine, Veronica. You always will be.”
* * *
After their heart-to-heart, Luke gave Mark some space, wandering over to check in with Chase and the barflies while Mark nursed his coffee and thought things through. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved Roni. What he was struggling with was releasing the expectations he’d carried all his life—that love would lead to marriage. That marriage meant two people belonged to each other, whatever that meant. That they promised each other forever, or at least a reasonable facsimile.
Roni didn’t want to belong to anyone for a minute, much less forever. He wondered, honestly, how easy it might be for him to adjust his thinking on something he’d been raised to believe—if it could mean sharing some kind of life with the woman he loved.
He knew it wouldn’t be an easy process, working through this, hence this seat in the back of the bar. One would have thought that people would leave him alone so he could work through his conflicting feelings. It only made sense. If he saw someone hunched over a table in the back of a bar, he’d leave them alone.
Sophia Cage had another idea. She walked through the door, and the second she spotted him, she homed in on him like a ballistic missile, sashaying over to his table with a seductive smile on her face. “Hey, handsome.” She sat down without asking and her expensive perfume washed over him.
Roni smelled like oranges, lemons sometimes. Roni smelled bright and fresh and sweet.
But it was pointless to compare the two. Roni would always win.
“What are you doing back here?” Sophia asked, setting her hand on his knee.
He caught her wrist, removed her hand. “I need to think, so I came here to be alone.” He was hoping she’d take the hint and leave.
She tipped her head to the side, wriggled free from his grip and set her palm on his chest instead. “It looks to me like you need some company. And here I am.”
He sighed. “Soph, I need to be alone. Okay?”
She edged back, caught his gaze. “You liked my company before.”
He’d liked a lot of women’s company before. Too many, maybe. But now? Now there was only one.
As he stared at Sophia, conviction solidified in his mind and heart and soul. Yeah. He wasn’t going to let Roni go, and he knew it. He couldn’t.
Whatever she wanted, he would give her. And as for his insecurities about not having that ring on her finger, he would just have to trust her. The same way she trusted him to not act like her ex. Because that’s what real love was. Trust. Faith in one another.
He’d give that to her. And, somehow, he knew she’d give him the same in return. And it didn’t matter what they called it.
His heart lifted, and he smiled at Sophia. “Thanks,” he said as he stood and dropped a ten on the table for the coffees.
She gaped at him. “Thanks? What for?”
But he didn’t answer. He nodded to Luke and made a beeline out the door, heading to Roni’s place down the block.
Luke caught up with him at the corner, because Mark had to wait for a truck at the intersection. “What are you gonna do?” he asked.
“What do you think?” He shot his brother a wry grin. “I’m gonna fold.”
To which Luke barked a laugh. “It’s not the folding, bro. It’s knowing when to.”
“Right.” Mark nodded and crossed the street, but the paused when he heard a ruckus coming from the bakery.
“Is that Snoopy?” Luke asked.
It was. And the dog was barking up a storm. The brothers shared a glance and then set off for the store, Luke’s injured leg keeping him a few paces behind Mark.
As Mark came up on the big windows of the bakery, he saw Roni in the grip of another man. His arms were around her shoulders, and while Mark couldn’t hear the words, he could definitely tell that he was shouting at her. Horror skittered through his gut. Instinctively, he knew who the man was, but he didn’t stop to take it in, not now.
“Call Cole,” he barked at Luke as he sprinted for the door.
He was still too late to save her.
Because, it appeared, she’d already saved herself.
It took his brain a second to process the scene, but when it did, he realized that Roni had just thrown a full-grown man over her shoulder and onto the hard floor of the bakery. He was now lying on the ground, groaning. She stood over him, arms akimbo, breathing heavily. Snoopy, for his part, took a position between Roni and the threat, and continued to issue threatening growls.
Roni glanced up and their gazes clashed. He was ready to run to her, to comfort her...but there was no need. She simply glowed.
“It worked,” she said, with her eyes alight. “I learned it in a self-defense class, but I’ve never done it for real. I can’t believe it worked.”
“Good for you,” Luke said.
Mark gaped at them both, speechless. Why were they high-fiving? Why were they not focused on the man sprawled on the floor? Wh
y was he here? What the hell had she even been doing, fighting him for Christ’s sake? A man like that could have snapped her neck like a twig. Fear for her roiled with rising acid and ire in his gut.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.
Roni froze. She seemed taken aback for a second, but only for a second. Then she stood right up to him and responded with equal ferocity. “Protecting myself.”
Heat and horror rose within him. “You could have been hurt!”
“But she wasn’t.”
It was all Mark could do not to deck his brother. “And who the hell is this?” he asked, nodding at the crumpled fellow on the floor.
Before Roni could answer, the bastard levered himself into a sitting position and glared at her with a malevolence Mark had never seen in anyone’s expression before.
“He’s my ex-husband,” she said with the emphasis on the ex. And, yeah. His suspicions were confirmed. This was Anthony. The man who had traumatized her, beaten her. Thrown her through a plate glass shower door. Cut her to ribbons. Nearly killed her. “And he needs to leave. Now.” Her voice was clear and strong.
“The hell?” Anthony snapped, struggling to his feet. “I’m not leaving. You are still my wife, Veronica.” The way he said her name sent shivers down Mark’s spine.
“It’s Roni. And we’re divorced. We’ve been divorced for two years.”
He leaned in and growled, “You belong to me.”
Mark saw the shudder run through her. Still, she stood up to Anthony. Didn’t matter that this creep probably had a hundred pounds on her. Her courage scared Mark to death, knowing what this man was capable of.
Anthony took a step toward Roni, and Mark put himself between them, but before he could land that first satisfying punch in Anthony’s too-smug face, Snoopy lunged forward and grabbed the cretin’s cuff, snarling and growling all the while. Anthony looked down. “What the hell is that?” he said as he took a swipe at the pup with a shiny loafer. Snoopy skidded across the floor with a pained yelp.