“A waitress?” she asked quietly, followed by a dry, condescending laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, William. Your father will never allow it.” There was a long pause and then: “…Tennessee? And what? You love her? You love a waitress? Is that what you said?” She laughed again, but without humor. If anything, she sounded anxious.
Will sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and dragged a hand down his face. “It’s not up to Dad, or you, for that matter, as I keep telling you—”
“You’re a grown man, yes, William, you’ve repeatedly said that. And yet your father and I have yet to witness you making the decisions of a man. Namely, to do right by your family.”
“I love her, Mother,” he ground out.
“Nonsense,” she snapped back.
“I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“William—”
“Enough, Mother. Just be nice to her.” Feeling overwhelmed and exasperated by her meddling, he was more than ready to hang up. “I need to go. I need to get to work.”
“I just want you to be happy,” she said quietly.
“No, you just want me to keep up the standard.”
Silence descended, neither of them having anything else to say on the matter. It was true, and she knew it, but she couldn’t admit it; she was too stubborn and proud. But she had been right in one thing: his father would not approve of his relationship with Mila. Deep down he had known that all along, but it wasn’t until the last twenty-four hours that he realized how important it was to him for them to accept Mila. He wasn’t going to give her up, and the consequences of that…
Well, where his family was concerned, the consequences could be disastrous.
“Goodbye, Mother. I’ll see you on Saturday.” Without waiting for her to reply, he clicked off his phone and set it down on the counter. Picking up the espresso the barista had left for him, he took a sip.
“I never know what in the hell to order in these damn places,” a voice said.
Will turned toward the deep Southern drawl and found a man seated on his left. He was an average-looking man, about Will’s age, and height, yet broader and bit on the burly side. He was plainly dressed in jeans and dark flannel shirt, with short yet unkempt dark hair and a matching beard.
“I’d go with the house coffee then,” Will replied. “Simple.”
Smirking, the man scrubbed a hand across his short beard and shook his head. “Never did like big cities. Too much to choose from, you know? Takes all the fun out of enjoying something when you’ve got to spend an hour deciding.”
Will smiled politely in response. He felt the opposite: he’d always enjoyed variety—craved it, even. Variety broke up the mundane monotony of everyday life. But at the same time, he understood where the man was coming from. Simple sometimes was better, as was always appreciating what you had, no matter how little.
“Just visiting?” he found himself asking. “New York can be overwhelming if you’ve never been before. I can recommend—”
“Thank you kindly,” the man interrupted, “but I’ve been here before. Business, you know? Just never liked it much. I’m not much for the touristy sort of shit. And the women here…” The man grimaced and Will found himself stifling a laugh. “Find myself counting the minutes until I can get back home again,” he finished.
“Southern Belles are much more appealing then?” he asked, before taking another sip of his espresso.
When the man didn’t readily answer, Will glanced up and found the man staring at him, his mouth turned down in a frown. Another moment passed, and still he said nothing.
Beginning to feel uncomfortable, Will quickly finished the last of his coffee and picked up his phone. “Enjoy your stay,” he said, stepping down of his stool. Pulling free his wallet, he fished a ten-dollar bill out and placed it down on the counter.
“Once you’ve had a good Southern woman,” the man suddenly said, “you never let her go.”
Will opened his mouth to reply, even without yet knowing what he was going to say, but the barista beat him to it.
With her hands firmly placed on her ample hips, she cocked one perfectly sculpted and imperious eyebrow at the man. “And what if she wants to go?” she asked, twisting her red-painted lips into a taunting smirk. “Tie her up?”
Grinning, the man leaned forward over the counter. “If that’s what it takes, darlin’,” he said softly.
Will smiled. “I think the way to a woman’s heart, to keeping her, is allowing her make her own choices.”
The barista pointed a long red nail in his direction and nodded. “Even if that means letting her go,” she added.
The man turned to Will, a humorless smile on his lips. “That’s a little boy’s way of doing things. A real man keeps his woman, no matter what the costs.”
While the barista snorted and turned away, Will shook his head and did the same.
There were all kinds in New York, he thought, and headed toward the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Work was busy, exceptionally so, my growing irritation made worse with the constant and nagging sensation that I was being watched. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? There was no way I could have been found. I’d gone to such extremes to hide myself away. But Monica had been found, and if she’d been found so easily… I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling, or the worry that if I hadn’t already been found, I would be soon.
Worse, tonight was the charity gala. Tonight I’d be meeting Will’s family…and tonight I’d be telling him the truth about me. The ugly truth…
Settling my last bill, thankful it was finally time for my break, I made my way into the back only to be met with Carlos in the hall. Red-faced, he glared at me.
“Where are you today, Mila?” he demanded. His face taut with exasperation, he threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “You’re not here, that’s for sure.”
I stared at him open-mouthed. Carlos wasn’t a yeller; he was down to earth, relaxed, and an all-around good guy. For him to yell… I must have really let him down.
“Just because you a new boyfriend doesn’t mean that you get to slack off,” he continued. “How many orders did you screw up today? How many meals did you drop?”
I cringed and took a step back. I had been distracted; I’d been distracted for days now, ever since I’d learned of Monica. Thoughts of Will, my future, and my past were colliding, and the fear that I was about to lose everything was consuming me.
“Carlos, I’m sorry,” I sputtered. “I didn’t realize...”
But I did realize. I knew exactly how bad I had been today. I had written down three orders wrong, twice I had taken the wrong money, and more than once I had tripped and spilled someone’s lunch…on them. Today had been a waste of both my time and Carlos’s, and had probably cost both of us more than it should have.
Pursing his lips, Carlos shook his head in dismay. “You’re a great waitress, Mila—a little clumsy, but still, I’ve never had any problems with you. But lately…” He trailed off and shook his head again. “You need to get it together or I won’t have a choice—I’ll have to let you go.”
I stared at him, feeling awful, unsure of what to say or do. “I think I should just go home for the day,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly on the verge of tears. “I have a lot going on, and I’m making a mess of everything.”
Carlos’s expression changed, his annoyance and anger turning to compassion. This time when he shook his head, it was in pity. “You’re overdue for a vacation,” he said. Sighing, he reached out and gave my arm a quick pat. “Take some time, come back refreshed.”
Moving out of my path, he gestured me toward the breakroom and I gave him a small smile, mumbling my thanks.
Coat and purse in tow, I left the restaurant. It was a warm day; the storm had washed the streets clean and the air smelled fresh—at least by New York standards. I made my way along the busy sidewalks, unsure of what to do now that I had the day all to myself. My phone buzzed, vibrating inside my purse.
Rifling through, I pulled it free, finding several missed messages from Will. Reading through them, I began smiling, my smile growing with each new message.
Thinking of you.
Missing you.
Call me when you get home.
Several days had passed since I’d last seen him, yet we’d spoken many times. I could tell he was still hurt and confused by everything that had transpired, but he’d stopped asking questions. I didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved. Either way I’d be telling him everything soon enough.
Stopped at a corner and waiting for the lights to change, I texted him back, letting him know that I had the day off work and that I was thinking of using the free time to get a manicure and pedicure for tonight.
Not even a full minute after pressing send, my phone started ringing.
“Hi, Will.”
“An entire day free, and you aren’t even going to come and see me?”
“You’ll see me tonight,” I said, grinning. “Besides, I want to look perfect when I meet your family.”
Looking up, seeing the light had changed, I stepped out into the street and hurried across.
“Why don’t you borrow Richard for the day? Have him take you wherever you need to go.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Borrow Richard? No, I wouldn’t feel comfortable. And the nail place Nikki usually goes to is only a few blocks from the apartment.”
“Are you sure? It’s not a problem, I’m sure Richard would appreciate getting to spend—”
Something hard and heavy knocked into my shoulder, causing me to drop my phone. Cursing, I spun around to grab it.
“Excuse me, darlin’.”
I went still, my breath leaving me in a rush of air. Jumping upright, I surveyed the sidewalk and the handful of people milling around, not seeing anyone out of the ordinary…or anyone familiar.
But that voice…
Biting down hard on my bottom lip, I scooped up my phone and brought it to my ear.
“Mila..? Mila?”
“I’m here,” I whispered, still glancing around. “I dropped my phone.”
“Everything okay?” Will asked.
No, everything was definitely not okay. Either my paranoia was driving me slowly insane or I was actually being watched. I couldn’t just be imagining it, could I? The feeling had been there all day, hanging heavy over my head like a raincloud waiting to burst.
Suddenly I wanted to run back to work, to the restaurant, to where there were people—people who knew me. To be here, alone, in the middle of sidewalk, who would notice if a car were to pull up and snatch me away? No one would notice. No one would care.
“Mila?”
Mentally shaking myself from my morbid thoughts, I started walking again. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m here. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone thick with worry. “You sounded…” He trailed off, and I grimaced. However much progress we’d made in our relationship by professing our love to one other, we’d also regressed when I’d decided not to tell him the truth about me.
I had to fix it and hope that he would forgive me—forgive me for my lies, for my past, and for what was to come if my past ever caught up to me.
“Have I told you lately how much I love the dress?” I said, hoping I came across as flirty and teasing rather than the anxious way I was feeling.
“Only seven hundred or so times,” he laughed.
The dress had been delivered the day before, an absolutely stunning gown and a perfect fit. I’d been shocked, not only that he’d known my size, but that he’d handpicked a dress I would have chosen myself.
“Well I do,” I said. “It’s gorgeous. You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” he insisted. “Beautiful things for beautiful girls, you know.”
“You’re too good to me,” I said softly, squeezing my eyes shut momentarily. God, he deserved better than me, and far better than this awful situation I was involving him in.
“See you tonight?”
“Of course.” I murmured, “Goodbye.”
Hanging up, I slipped my phone back in my purse and picked up my pace, both wishing that I hadn’t answered his phone call and glad that I had.
Along with the awful feeling that I was being followed, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I was losing Will—losing us, before we had even really begun. I half wished the night was already over and all my secrets had already been revealed. Yet, speaking to him had also calmed me. There was just something about Will; he soothed my soul and made me forget the things I feared most. Even if just for a moment.
* * *
Struggling with the finishing touches on his silk bow tie—he’d never liked those damn things—Will glared at his reflection in the mirror. He was nervous—too nervous for his liking, unused to caring how his parents felt about his decisions.
But this was different, because Mila was different. She was important, and because she was important, he was nervous. No, he was damn near twitching with anxiety.
They could ruin everything for him—his family—with one scathing look or a few demeaning words, and Mila could decide that he wasn’t worth the headache and the heartache. Will knew that Mila wasn’t the superficial type, yet… how much abuse could one person take before they ran for the hills?
Which led him to another worry: Mila running for the hills. She was prone to running, he’d already figured that much out. Shaking his head, he cursed himself under his breath. He wasn’t going to do this tonight; he wasn’t going to stress about what had already happened. He had enough to worry about as it was, because where his family was concerned, everything could go wrong.
Finished with his bow tie, he leaned over his dresser and bared his teeth, giving them one last inspection before running his hand haphazardly through his hair. Then he paused, staring at himself, his eyes slightly widening.
Then he burst out laughing.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. He was behaving like a woman. Falling for Mila had made him a woman, fretting around, worrying far more than he ever had. Love was turning him into a bumbling idiot—one with a nervous stomach, and who mumbled to himself in the mirror.
Worst-case scenario, his family would be awful to her. He’d either find himself telling off his sister or knocking out one of his brothers. Both would create a scene that his family would find unforgivable, and his family would cut him out of their lives forevermore.
Oddly enough, that very outcome didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have. True, he loved his family, even his vicious sister, but that was more from familial obligation than anything else. His father and he were already at odds, but his mother… As overbearing and ridiculous as she could be, she was still his mother. So in reality, while being ostracized from his family might seem for the best, in the long run it would hurt him.
“Fingers crossed,” he said to his reflection, “that everyone makes it through tonight unscathed.”
Turning toward his doorway, he began crossing his bedroom, scooping his tuxedo jacket off the chaise on the way out.
“Shoes,” Richard said, joining him in the foyer.
Will glanced down at his feet. “Why? What’s wrong with my sneakers?”
* * *
Thirty minutes later Richard was pulling up in front of Mila’s apartment building and Will, having just stepped out of the car, his hand still on the door handle, watched as the front door to her building pushed open.
The gown he’d chosen was a figure-hugging, full-length nude, with a halter neckline and an open back, glimmered under the glow of the streetlights, glowing perfectly against Mila’s lightly bronzed skin. Two small gold hoops dangled from her ears, while she held tightly to a tiny white wristlet.
Her hair was down, her natural waves styled into thick curls that hung heavy down her back and perfectly framed her heart-shaped face. She was wearing far more makeup than he’d ever seen her wear before—Nikki’s doing, he mused, noting th
e smoky eyes and wine-colored lips. And though she looked beautiful no matter what—even after just waking, her hair a mess, her makeup smeared—at this very moment he’d never seen anything more beautiful than her.
Watching her descend the stairs, Will felt his anxiety melt away. All that had happened in the past week and all that might yet happen tonight… It didn’t matter.
She was the one.
She was…the one.
Chapter Seventeen
Will smiled up at me, the sort of smile that was exclusive and reserved only for special moments. The sort of smile you see in films, and read about in great novels. He smiled at me like I was the only one there, and in return I beamed down at him. All the worry I had been drowning in all day, the strain of the past few days, it all drifted away.
He met me halfway down the steps, holding out his hand for me, and I took it with a shy smile. He looked handsome, almost beautifully so beneath the setting sun in the background, the orange glows highlighting his unruly blond hair. He’d shaved, and the square set of his jaw was visible, making me want to run my hand across it, lean in and kiss his mouth.
“Mila, you look—” He gave his head a little shake and swallowed, seeming almost nervous. “You look breathtaking.”
I beamed under the compliment. “You look pretty good yourself,” I said coyly.
Stepping into my space, Will brought his body flush against mine. Placing a hand on my lower back, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to my lips. I kissed him back fervently, losing myself to him, to this kiss and to everything that he was making me feel.
Someone cleared their throat behind us, and I pulled away sharply, glancing over his shoulder to find Richard grinning at us. Laughing, I clasped a hand over my mouth only to instantly drop it, worrying about my lipstick.
Will starting laughing. “It’s still perfect,” he said, “like you.”
He guided me toward the car where Richard was waiting, holding the door open.
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