Captured Memories: Cupid’s Cafe, Book Three

by Katherine McIntyre

  Tessa thrust out a container in front of her before Liv could get a word in. “Apology muffins,” she said, her lips quirking with the hint of a smile. “Edible ones.”

  Liv took the container and opened up the half-dozen banana chocolate chip muffins that smelled so glorious her mouth began to water. She’d barely eaten a cracker today, which meant her blood sugar was reaching obnoxious lows. Together, they walked to her kitchen counter where she opened the container and snagged one, the wrapper flying towards her open trash can. By the time she sank her teeth into the sugary sweetness, she’d already forgiven Tessa.

  “If he didn’t have a history, and you didn’t have yours, I would’ve been jumping in to ask questions, getting excited with you over this crazy new adventure you’re on, not trying to interfere from the sidelines.” Tessa tugged at her ponytail, a half-smile on her lips even though worry reflected in her dark eyes. “Instead, my cop training took over, and I was ready to sentence the guy before I got the chance to discover if he was even guilty. Why don’t you tell me about him?”

  Tears stung the corners of Liv’s eyes, but she kept them at bay despite the fierce wash of warmth rushing through her. With friends like Tessa and Lex in her life, as frustrating as they could be, she knew she could stay in the fight. Crossing the distance between them, she threw her arms around Tessa to squeeze her into a hug while crumbs flew through the air from the half-eaten muffin she still gripped. Her bestie clung back tightly.

  “I know the whole story about his felony,” Liv said once they pulled apart and she set to percolating some coffee. Drowning herself in coffee and muffins provided the best distraction from the way her gaze kept jumping to her phone and the door. Waiting for word from Zane. “And I knew the asshole he beat the shit out of. No guy who abuses women is going to garner my sympathy.”

  Tessa nodded, grabbing a pair of mugs from the kitchen cabinet. “Guess you can’t judge everyone from their reports. You know his history pretty well, don’t you?”

  Liv took another couple of bites of muffin, littering her countertop with crumbs. “Better than Lex ever did. My brother didn’t know about the abusive household Zane grew up in or why that sort of thing might send him off the handle. And hell, Z’s been beating himself up for that night ever since—the man thinks he’s a lowlife, when in reality he’s got so much to offer the world.”

  “And I’m guessing you’re going to give him a chance to shine?” Tessa asked with a relieved smile that warmed her eyes.

  “If he’ll let me,” she said, biting down on her lip. “Dammit, he’s always been the one for me. Always. Hell, I even saved the beat-up leather jacket he gave me back in high school and kept the torch burning for a damn decade.”

  Last night she’d acted with utmost confidence, but the longer the silence stretched between them with no contact, the more she worried. Tessa poured coffee, passing a steaming mug in Liv’s direction. Liv crammed the rest of the muffin into her mouth and lifted the mug to her lips. A second later, she spit out a stream of fiery coffee and muffin crumbs.

  Tessa snorted. “Trying to prepare yourself for fire breathing?”

  Liv smacked her lips together, trying to rid herself of the stinging burn even as Tessa’s words made her smile.

  A knock pounded at her door.

  Tessa lifted a brow, and Liv tried to not look too anxious as her head whipped in that direction.

  “Door’s open, come on in,” she called, wondering if the visitor would end up being another false hope and Lex had decided to join the party. Tessa’s hand brushed by the pistol she carried on her, paranoia amped up at all times.

  The door creaked open, and Zane stepped inside.

  His hair hung in loose waves, not tied back like normal, and his beard looked a bit more rugged, but what struck her the most was the weariness in his eyes. The man had walked to hell and back in the span of one night. The short-sleeved Henley he wore was bleach-clean and startlingly white against his Polynesian skin, and the way his jeans hugged his defined ass and those powerful thighs made her want to sink her teeth into him all over again.

  The events of last night had sliced them raw, and despite the way she’d fallen into sync with him the moment they reconnected, here and now she wasn’t sure what move she should make.

  “We will catch up later—you owe me dinner,” Tessa said, taking the cue from the awkward silence stretching between them. She set her coffee mug on the counter and squeezed Liv tight in one more hug before making her way to the door. As she passed, Tessa gave Zane a nod of acknowledgement and exited as fast as she’d come.

  Which left the two of them in her apartment, alone.

  “Can we talk?” Zane asked, his voice hoarse. Liz swallowed, her throat tightening. Those words rarely spelled good news, and a sense of foreboding clung to her, one she couldn’t shake. If he came here to tell her he planned on leaving, or even if he couldn’t continue this relationship, she wasn’t sure she could handle the rejection right now.

  “Come on in,” she said, not moving from the kitchen counter, because she didn’t think her shaking legs would carry her. Zane lumbered in, hands in his pockets and a slight hunch to his shoulders. Her kitchen, which she considered vast, seemed swallowed by his towering presence and the fears threatening to devour her.

  “About last night,” he said, his gaze sweeping the ground. “I’m so sorry you had to see me like that. For everything I put you through.”

  All the energy building inside her lit like a match. Heat filled her in one furious sweep.

  “No, you don’t apologize to me,” she argued, gripping her mug for all she was worth. The liquid in her cup trembled, but she wouldn’t back down, not on this. “Apologizing for something you can’t help is what you do when you’re walking away. You were there during my breakdowns, Z. Why can’t I be there for yours?” Her voice cracked, and she stopped talking, afraid the fierce storm of emotions brewing inside her would take over.

  Zane’s gaze softened, and he crossed the agonizing inches between them, the ones pride and fear forbade her from crossing. He wrapped those muscular arms around her, and Liv sagged against his sturdy chest, the heat of him enfolding her like a blanket.

  “Won’t lie, I sure as hell don’t get why you put up with my sorry ass. However, I’m not here to argue with you, Livs.” He clutched her like a lifeline, and she surrendered to his embrace, her legs trembling with the relief that rushed through her.

  “Before we go forward,” he murmured into her hair, “we need to lay everything out in the open. Honesty is one of my steps, and if I want to keep my lapse from turning into a full blown relapse, I need to recommit myself to sobriety. What I’m saying is, this won’t be an easy road—I’m going to have to dedicate a lot of time at meetings, and dodge certain things if I’m in a bad headspace.”

  She nodded against him, all the unsaid things tensing the air. Liv wasn’t prone to secrecy—full disclosure she could do, even if she had to summon her courage in the process. She sucked in a shaky breath, unwilling to look at him while she called on every ounce of strength she could manage.

  “If we’re doing this for real,” she said, “you’ve got to be aware of my triggers, about what happened to me back in college.” His silence urged her onward even as his grip around her waist tightened the same way her heart did. She forced herself to speak the words out loud.

  “I was raped,” she said, trying to blank out the memories. Even now, the word held power over her, as if speaking it aloud reduced her to nothing but a nameless victim stuck in the helpless fugue state that claimed her in the weeks after. Zane didn’t interrupt, just continued to hold her tightly while he listened, providing the strength she needed to continue. It was time for her to do this.

  “Third year in college, I was at a party at another dorm. I drank too much, and like a cliché, this friend of mine offers to help me back to my place.” Hell, whenever she said it out loud, she felt so stupid. So stupid for believing, for trusting. A spir
al of blame lay one vicious misstep away. Still, she fought to keep moving forward every day. Liv’s throat tightened, but she continued.

  “With the way I was wobbling all over the place, I figured it’d be safer to have the assistance. Funny how that turned out.” The bitterness in her voice turned caustic, the memories slamming at the walls she put up to protect herself. She shivered, unable to shake the feeling. “Dropped out days later and never looked back.”

  Zane let out a harsh breath, and a second later he pressed a kiss on her forehead. The tenderness and the way he held her kept Liv grounded. Right now, his grip kept her upright when little else did. Even though her nerves jangled and the buzzing in the back of her head began, she forced herself to keep talking. “I don’t do well with the scent of vanilla, with certain sounds, and, as you’ve learned the hard way, I’m a mite twitchy about my wrists being touched.”

  “I’m aware,” he said. “We’ll take things one step at a time.” He was silent a moment before continuing. “Your brother told me he spilled the beans about the night I got hauled off by the cops.”

  Liv pulled away, looking up to meet his eyes even though she reached out to grab his hands, not wanting to break the physical contact. She could sense his hesitation as he waited for the guillotine to fall. But she wouldn’t tolerate that sort of self-flagellation.

  “Yeah he did,” she said, projecting her voice loud, clear, and unafraid. “And I told him he was a moron for not realizing why you might fly off the handle at something like that.” Even if he couldn’t forgive himself yet, she’d fight alongside him until he reached that place. His tentative half-smile stole her heart, with no words necessary for the understanding they exchanged.

  “Last night,” he started, guilt shining again in those somber eyes.

  “Might happen again,” she cut him off. “Your mind’s fucked, I get it. Mine is too. I can’t promise my body’s not going to lock up in some weird PTSD episode even if you do everything right. The best we can do is own our problems and keep up the fight. If you’re still in this with me, I want you by my side.”

  Zane released a hiss of a sigh. “You sure? I’ve got a felony on the record which makes things twice as difficult—on top of that, I won’t always be available. The meetings are a necessary part of keeping sober. I’m never going to be an easy choice.” He squeezed her hands, his gaze darkened with ghosts of his past as even now, he gave her an out. As even now he believed she’d want someone easier than him.

  Liv met his gaze head on, lifting her chin and slamming him with the full weight of her stubbornness. “Z, you don’t understand. You’ve always been my choice—my only choice. I loved you when I was sixteen and smitten, and that hasn’t changed, even now.” His eyes widened, and she nearly cursed at herself for blurting out the ‘L’ word. She was the master of shitty timing.

  Liv winced and tugged her hand away to scratch her nape, brushing a couple of her teal curls behind her ear. “Don’t feel obligated to be throwing any declarations my way. You wanted full disclosure, but I’m sure you’ve already come to regret that.”

  Before she could keep rambling, his fingers swept under her chin, tilting her face up as his lips swept across hers. She deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sank against him. His warmth, the intoxicating sage musk of him, the thrill of having everything hidden out there in the open between them all came together in one dizzying swirl. Her fear melted away, and she rode the waves of comfort, relief, and desire as his kiss claimed her, delivering the one response she needed.

  The sensations threatened to ignite, and Liv pulled back before this kiss sent them straight to her bedroom. Right now, she was shaky on her feet, and despite the solidness Zane projected, she could sense the air of weariness surrounding him still. Last night put him through the wringer, and they both had a hell of a lot to process.

  “Babe, I don’t need another damn second to think on it. We had ten years of wasted time apart, and I won’t waste any more,” Zane replied, the heat in his voice piercing right to the core of her. “I love you too, Olivia Morozov.”

  Her heart squeezed, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His eyes danced, and he grinned with a boyish vulnerability, one that took her back ten years to the times he’d sat on her bed and they’d talked for hours. She’d fallen for him in those earlier years, but their love had grown more powerful with time into this formidable force she never could have imagined at sixteen.

  With every kiss, every interaction, every conversation, Liv healed a little more. For so long, she’d been broken, too broken for anything real. However, Zane’s trust, the solid way he backed her without judgment, and the tenderness he shared helped her rebuild the strength she thought she’d lost for good. Despite the warnings he gave, every time she looked into his eyes, all she could see was a wide-open future, of hope and reignited dreams.

  16

  One year later

  Zane couldn’t quell the anticipation riding his veins all day, nor did he want to. He stood outside his apartment, barely daring to believe what sat parked right outside his apartment. Tires screeched in the distance, mingling with shouts, and the occasional car honk. From where he stood, the scents of cheese and grease wafted through the air from the Papadopolis’s pizza joint. Liv’s presence was announced by her heavy footfalls as she stomped her way down the aluminum stairs. The woman had about as much grace as a rhino.

  “Holy shit, Z,” she breathed, stepping beside him. “It’s beautiful.” She’d pinned her blue curls back with a red headscarf, wearing one of his t-shirts that hung ten sizes too big on her, and a pair of black leggings. The sight of her still knocked the breath from him, a beauty that grew with every day, every shared smile, and every tease.

  He couldn’t agree more. Zane ran a hand through his tangled locks, a stupid grin on his face. The stainless steel frame glinted in the overhead summer sun, nearly sizzling with the fragrant heat. Bardstown traffic zoomed by, and a couple of people stopped and stared along the way, but he didn’t give a damn—he was proud as hell. It had taken time and the money he’d saved all those years, but with Liv’s constant encouragement, he had made the leap.

  He bought his food truck.

  Even though the thing needed a paint job, even though the truck was bare bones right now, he could see his future restaurant take shape before his eyes, the one he’d dreamed about for so long. The bright oranges and yellows of his mother’s kitchen and the scents of the richly spiced gravy and white rice he’d grown up with were a true comfort amid the dark times. At last, he’d be able to honor the journey he and his family had taken. He could aspire to be something more than his past.

  A click-click sounded behind him, a noise he’d begun to hear in his sleep, as Liv snapped away with her camera, nearly hopping up and down with excitement.

  “It’s not painted or anything—what’s there to take a picture of?” he asked, leaning over to slip his arm around her shoulder and squeeze her.

  She swatted him away, crouching to get a better angle. “The moment, jackass. Stand next to your hopes and dreams and try to put something other than a scowl on your mug,” she teased. “Otherwise you’re going to scare all of your potential customers away.” Already, she walked around the opposite end to take more pictures with a giddy grin on her face that infected him.

  He snorted as he approached the truck, running his fingertips along the silver panels, the metal warm against his skin. Standing here beside it, he could smell the phantom scent of cooking beef, of sizzling eggs, and of tangy Kahlua pork all over beds of white rice. Nostalgia swept through him, mixed with longing for a dream soon to become a reality.

  “Want to check out the inside with me?” Zane asked, hopping to unlock the back door. He walked inside the hotbox, drops of sweat blossoming on his forehead, even with the sleeveless tee and shorts he’d donned. Nerves swept through him as he made his way to the opposite side of the truck.

  “Roomy—think there’s
enough space for me to cook?” Liv teased as she slunk in behind him.

  “Please don’t,” he mock-pleaded. “I want some customers.” Zane leaned against the counter that in no time would be filled with supplies and utilized to full capacity. A dream that once seemed so distant and surreal now bloomed before his eyes, and he couldn’t help but acknowledge how instrumental Liv had been. Every step of the way she’d encouraged, supported, and helped him make this a reality. He wasn’t used to relying on others, but they worked together so easily, with a teamwork he’d only dreamed of before.

  One he wanted for keeps.

  Zane sank on one knee in front of her before snagging the extra weight in his pocket beside his one year chip. He flipped open the velvet box, and her brows lifted high when she caught sight.

  “Livs, I know you don’t need a ring to shout this commitment to the world—we belonged with each other from the day we met. But I’m a selfish bastard, and I want the honor of calling you my wife,” Zane said, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d planned this for a long while now, but the day he bought the truck, he’d made another purchase as well. Sweat trickled down his temple, nerves and heat combining as he waited for her to respond.

  A blinding smile stole her scarlet lips, and those blue eyes glowed like a summer sky. Her hand jumped for her camera, and her finger slid over the shutter. Zane lifted a brow, unable to hide his amusement. Of course.

  “You’re going to leave me hanging so you can snap some shots?”

  “Maybe it’s fun to see you sweat,” she murmured, the sensual smirk on her sending his mind to dirty places. Her finger poised at the ready to snap a shot. “One picture?” she asked.

  “All right,” he said, shaking his head with a grin as he remained kneeling a moment longer, the jewelry box weighing down his palm. Still, he couldn’t deny her, not with the joy that overtook her when she was behind the camera. The second she took the shot, Liv tugged her precious cargo from around her neck and joined him on the ground, crouching in front of him. She plucked the ring from the box and slipped on the silver band, a marquise-cut black diamond in the center, a perfect match against her pale fingers.