Desired: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  She found a parking spot in front of the Browns’ apartment and frowned at the matching dark blue BMW parked in front of her. Was that Gabriel’s car? It was his license plate, wasn’t it? She couldn’t recall exactly. She peered into the car, but unlike hers, that car was spotless and not personalized with the stray jackets, shoes, toys, and books that littered her car.

  It couldn’t possibly be Gabriel’s car. There was no reason for Gabriel to be in the neighborhood. These people hardly represented his usual client list.

  She rapped on the door of the Browns’ apartment. Moments later, she heard the sound of conversation behind the door. The door swung open, and Margie smiled at her. “Oh, it’s you.” The woman dabbed tears from her eyes, but her smile, in contrast, was wide and joyful.

  Valeria’s stunned gaze drifted up to the familiar face of her husband. He looked tense, but acknowledged her with a brisk and impersonal nod. “I was just leaving.” He stepped past Margie and walked toward the stairs.

  Valeria stared at his departing back. Wait. What was he doing here? Was he having an affair with Margie? She looked at the other woman, but Margie appeared completely at ease.

  “Please, please, come in,” Margie said.

  Valeria stepped into the apartment, and Margie ushered her into the living room. Two glasses of water sat on the table. Margie scurried to take one away. “I don’t think your husband touched it, but let me get you a fresh glass anyway.”

  Valeria couldn’t shake the feeling that she had stepped into her equivalent of the Twilight Zone. “Is Peter around?” she asked, groping for a topic to get the conversation going.

  “He’s resting right now.” Margie reappeared with a glass of water that she set on the table in front of Valeria. “Did you come to see him?”

  “I wanted to apologize in person. The wish is taking a little longer than I anticipated, but we’re working on it and we hope to have some good news in a week or two.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Margie relaxed into a smile. “I’ll let him know. It’s going to be an amazing day for him.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest, and her grin widened—so brilliant and infectious that it was impossible to watch without smiling along with her. “What with the insurance issues all sorted out—”

  “The insurance issues?”

  “Yes. They didn’t want to pay, did you know that?”

  Of course she had known that. She had even consulted Gabriel, concerned that the hospitals would stop treating Peter if they realized his parents could not pay his medical bills.

  “Your husband came to visit us after that and said that he would talk to the insurance company pro…something. For free. And he did.” Margie’s grin flashed again, bright and full. “He got them to pay.”

  “He what?”

  Margie squealed, a happy sound. “Isn’t that amazing? He stopped by this morning and brought the confirmation letters from the insurance company.” She gestured at the envelopes on the table. “The insurance will be covering Peter’s care. And your husband also brought us applications for a trust fund or something like that where we can apply for financial help to pay for the deductibles, which we’re still responsible for. But even if we don’t get money for the deductibles, we’ll be okay. We can manage the deductibles. It was just everything else that we couldn’t afford.” Margie threw her arms around Valeria and squeezed hard. “I didn’t dare hug your husband. He’s so cold and distant, but you go home and give him a good hug for me. He saved our marriage.”

  “He did what?” Why in God’s name would Gabriel spend his time handling the Browns’ insurance situation when he didn’t even care enough to talk to his judge friends about granting Peter’s actual wish?

  “Pete Sr. and I…we talked about how to pay for all the bills. We just couldn’t see how we could afford it, so we talked about divorcing. He would take the medical bills on himself. He’d pay them off if he could, or declare bankruptcy, if he couldn’t, but if we were no longer married, I wouldn’t be responsible for the bills. I was planning to go back to work, of course, once Peter…gets better, and this way, my wages wouldn’t be garnished, or my credit record wouldn’t be damaged. At least one of us would get out financially intact so that we could still care for the kids.”

  Valeria shuddered even though the air coming out of the vents was not cold. “But a divorce sounds so…drastic.”

  Margie shrugged. “You do what you have to do to put a roof over the kids’ heads and food on the table. Of course nothing could have kept Pete Sr. and I apart here.” She tapped her chest, just over her heart. “The legal stuff—marriage, divorce—it matters, of course, but only if it doesn’t match the real stuff that holds people together.”

  Owing to his meeting with Margie Brown, Gabriel got a late start at the office that day. He stared at his pile of work, mentally tallied the amount of time he would need, and grimaced. He would be up half the night, especially if he wanted to head home in time for dinner. He had also hoped to invite Valeria to lunch, if she could make it, but that was before he had run into her at the Browns’ apartment. She looked displeased to see him there. He had upset her, somehow, infringing on what she considered her territory, perhaps. How much longer could he continue this ridiculous tiptoeing on eggshells, carefully choosing every word he said, second-guessing his every action around her? The mental effort was tremendous—an effort he couldn’t afford on top of his job.

  No, damn it. He gritted his teeth. He would and could endure the effort if it was what was required to hold on to Valeria and his marriage. He just had to make it better. More time. More attention. Whatever it took.

  Even if he had to stay up the entire night to work.

  A knock sounded on his door.

  He glanced up. “Mr. Felder.”

  Joe Felder stepped into Gabriel’s office, his hand extended. “I hope you can bring yourself to call me Joe now,” he said as the two men shook hands. “It’s official. You’re a partner.”

  A jolt of relief shot through Gabriel. “Thank you. I’m honored.”

  “No, no. We’re glad you’ve chosen to grow your career and reputation here. You’ve done a great deal for the firm. So, can we expect to see you and your beautiful wife at our partners’ retreat in Napa Valley next weekend?”

  Gabriel glanced down at the photograph of Valeria on his desk. “I have prior family commitments for that weekend. I’m sorry, but they were made before I found out about the retreat.”

  “Not a problem. I understand. There will be other retreats, with a lot more advance notice, I promise.” Felder relaxed into a grin. “Congratulations again. Glad to have you on board.”

  Gabriel waited until Felder departed his office before he released his breath. His shoulders sagged beneath the relief of both his promotion, and more importantly, the fact that Felder had accepted his absence from the partners’ retreat with matter-of-fact aplomb. Could it be that all the pressure to keep up his professional appearances was entirely self-inflicted?

  Perhaps not entirely self-inflicted, he noted, but no question, a lot of it was probably unnecessary.

  In fact, if he left now, he could probably take Valeria out to lunch and break the news of his promotion in person, and tell her that he was not going to the partners’ retreat. It would help clear the air between them, perhaps even break the tension. God knew he needed a lucky break in his marriage.

  He pulled into the garage. Valeria’s BMW was parked there, the engine still warm. He walked into the house, entering through the kitchen door. She was in the kitchen, standing by the stove where she was making a cup of tea for herself. She glanced over her shoulder, her mouth open in surprise. “What are you doing back here?”

  He refused to take her waspish tone personally. It seemed as though defensiveness—on both their parts—was now an ingrained response. “I wanted to tell you that I got the promotion, to partner.”

  “Oh.”

  That was it. A single emotionless sound. Her long eyelashes flic
kered as she blinked away the flash of whatever reaction she might have had.

  Gabriel’s heart clenched. Perhaps if he told her that he would not be attending the partners’ retreat… His gaze fell on a white legal-sized envelope on the kitchen island. “What is this?” he asked.

  He reached for it. Alarm flared in her eyes, and she took a half-step forward, as if to stop him, but she caught herself. She stood back and said nothing as he opened the envelope and pulled out the documents.

  His gaze raced over the terms of the divorce settlement that she had signed. His trained lawyer’s mind tried to parse facts from emotion, but the rest of him refused to play along. He couldn’t think through the fog—the roaring storm—in his head. He couldn’t feel anything through the shattering sensation of loss. The pain that pulsed through him couldn’t possibly be real. There had to be a physical injury to warrant that kind of ripping anguish.

  He looked up at her. “Is this what you want?” That hollow, unsteady sound could not possibly be his voice.

  She said nothing. She stared at him as if he were a stranger.

  He had to know. “Are you no longer in love with me?”

  Did she know or even care that everything in him turned on her answer? The ache in his chest intensified with each passing moment. The silence dug deep and wrenched at the wound she had already inflicted with the signed divorce settlement.

  She said nothing.

  Gabriel shoved the papers back into the envelope and walked out of the house. He took the end of his marriage with him.

  Chapter 9

  Valeria clasped her hands together, but the cold continued to seep from her fingertips to chill the rest of her body. She had done the right thing, hadn’t she? Gabriel was emotionally distant—he had been even during their surprise encounter at the Browns’ apartment. He was an indifferent partner and father; his work came first, always, but the children deserved better. They deserved a father who would attend the school fair as promised and not skip out to Napa Valley to be with his colleagues.

  He had admitted to kissing another woman. Perhaps he had even done more.

  Nothing about what Valeria did with her life—like granting wishes to sick children—mattered a whit to him. She just wanted to matter. She wanted her children to matter.

  She wanted to know that she was loved.

  She was certain he no longer did, yet the way he had looked when he read the divorce papers caused her to hesitate. His face had paled. His voice was unsteady. His hands shook.

  He looked as if she had hurt him in the most vicious way possible.

  Valeria sucked in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Her actions were not impulsive. She had reached them after several months of deliberation. She could not…would not change them just because Gabriel had acted kindly toward a stranger he knew nothing about—for no other reason than the fact that she, too, had cared about that stranger’s family.

  Why hadn’t he said something about it to her?

  Her smartphone rang. She snatched it up.

  “Hello, Valeria. It’s Brett.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sank. Only then did she realize she had been hoping to hear Gabriel’s voice.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I just got off the phone with Judge Harrison about Peter Brown’s wish.”

  “Oh?”

  “He apologizes for the delay. Apparently, your husband spoke to him about two weeks ago, but he was scheduled to leave for Hawaii for a family vacation, and just got back. He’s going to help grant Peter’s wish, and in fact has a list of other people who will take on the roles of prosecutors, defendants, witnesses, the whole deal. That’s what he was doing in Hawaii—trying to get enough people lined up to make a great day for Peter. Apparently, Gabriel emphasized that it was a big deal and managed to get Judge Harrison excited about it. Valeria, are you there?”

  “Yes.” The word trembled out of her.

  “Sorry, you were just so quiet. Anyway, I don’t have your husband’s contact information or I would have called him to thank him. Will you pass the word on, please?”

  “Yes…Yes, I will.”

  “Val? Are you okay? You sound a little odd.”

  Valeria hung up and slid down the side of the counter to sit on the cold kitchen tiles. The smartphone tumbled from her hand. She pressed a hand to her stomach, as if it would hold in the wrenching ache, the terrifying feeling that perhaps she might have misunderstood her husband after all.

  Could she have made a horrible mistake…no, the worst mistake of her life?

  Gabriel’s shock had frozen over into an icy façade by the time he was shown into Brandon Smith’s office for his 2 p.m. appointment. Brandon stood and extended his hand in greeting. “Mr. Cruz.”

  “Gabriel, please.”

  “Gabriel.” Brandon gestured toward the sitting area in his office. “Shall we?” He waited until Gabriel took his seat. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “I…thank you for making time to meet with me. I realize our meeting isn’t conventional—”

  Brandon shrugged, and Gabriel got the feeling that Brandon wasn’t much into conventions. “Call it professional courtesy. I assume you’re here about the papers I drafted for Mrs. Cruz,” Brandon said.

  “She signed the divorce settlement.”

  “Ah.”

  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m assuming you drafted other papers too? A separation agreement, perhaps?”

  Brandon spread his hands. “Client confidentiality. You understand.”

  Gabriel laid the legal envelope on the low table between them. “You’ve handled many divorce cases. I’m sure you know, as I do, that Val asked for nothing, really, compared to what she could have walked away with.”

  “Are you here to ask me if I’m accurately representing her wishes, or whether I deliberately screwed her over?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m asking you.”

  Brandon managed a thin smile. “I’m accurately representing her wishes. She made her intentions clear.”

  “Why?”

  Brandon shook his head. “You know I can’t discuss her case specifically, but perhaps you should ask yourself, more generally, why a smart woman would choose not to rake her ex-husband over the coals for everything she could take from him in a divorce?”

  Gabriel’s jaw tensed. That was the exact question he had been asking himself ever since he walked out of the kitchen.

  Across from him, Brandon leaned back in his chair, the image of relaxed grace. “I’d imagine it’s because she’s trying not to hurt him any more than is necessary, in spite of what she’s doing.”

  Gabriel stared at the plain platinum band on his left hand. He drew in a deep breath. Finally, his path forward seemed clear. It was the only path left open to him. He looked at Brandon and leaned forward in his seat. He took out a pen, set it on the envelope, and slid both across the table to Brandon. “You’re going to redo the divorce settlement. You represent my wife. I’ll represent myself. Let’s negotiate.”

  Chapter 10

  Valeria had neither heard from nor seen Gabriel for an entire week. She knew he came home late in the evenings. Each night, close to midnight, she heard the sound of the garage door opening. No armed, masked intruder came charging into her bedroom, so obviously it was Gabriel. Each morning, he had left by the time she came downstairs to fix breakfast for the children. The pillows and neatly folded blankets stacked on the sofa bed in Gabriel’s study were in a slightly different position from the way she had laid them out the night before, so she knew Gabriel had used them. The leftovers in the refrigerator vanished, and the rinsed plates were placed in the dishwasher.

  Gabriel, as always, had cleaned up after himself so as not to make any extra work for her. He had always been that way, from the earliest days in their marriage. But beyond those few hints, there was no sign of Gabriel. His study with its sofa bed, adjoining bathroom, and closet filled with his clothes allowed him to m
eet his needs without making any demands on her or on the master bedroom that should have been their shared space.

  He had always been self-sufficient, except for the way he used to seek her out every chance he could for a quick kiss. But that had been a long time ago.

  “Mommy?” Marlena asked.

  “What is it, darling?” She looked down at her daughter.

  “Is Daddy going to meet us at the school fair?”

  Valeria swallowed hard. Her chest ached as it had constantly for an entire week since she delivered the signed papers to Gabriel. “I don’t know, Marlena.” He’s probably on his way to San Francisco right now for his Napa Valley retreat.

  “He said he would be at the fair.” Diego’s lower jaw jutted out pugnaciously. “He’ll be there. I know it.”

  “All right,” Valeria said, and silently cursed Gabriel for breaking their children’s hearts yet again. “We have to leave now though, or we’ll be late. We need to get Diego to his science table so that he can talk about the robotics experiment he put together.”

  The door to the garage opened, and a familiar step entered the kitchen.

  “Daddy!” Marlena squealed. She rushed into the kitchen and flung her arms around her father’s legs.

  “Marlena.” Gabriel stroked her curls and looked up, meeting Valeria’s eyes across the expanse of the kitchen.

  “Dad, you’re here,” Diego said. He walked over to give his father a hug, and tossed his mother a reproachful I-told-you-so look.

  “Are you leaving now for the fair?” Gabriel asked.

  Valeria nodded, grateful that he was willing to keep their interactions casual and light for the sake of the kids.