Ivy straightened in her seat, the dichotomy of what Steve was offering and what she wanted now painfully apparent.
“What about your fiancé?”
“She’ll live.”
Ivy swore under her breath.
“You know, when you walked out on me, I was so devastated. I really did love you.” She dropped her hands from the coffee, resting them in her lap. “But it wasn’t … the right kind of love. It wasn’t a grown-up, I can’t live without you love. It was a love of familiarity and gratitude and convenience.” She shook her head slowly. “I think you know that, and I think you knew it then. I think it’s why you left me. I’m… I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m glad you ended it, Steve. You had the courage to face up to something I would have kept ignoring.” She reached for her bag, pulling out a ten pound note and dropping it onto the table. “I don’t want to be with you. I … want you to be happy, I really do, but our relationship is ancient history. And… I think that’s a good thing.”
She burst out of the café as though she’d run a marathon, sucking in the cool morning’s air as she simultaneously lifted a hand skywards. A cab pulled over almost instantly.
She gave Rafe’s address, a pang of panic and despair making her lean forward in the seat the whole way, watching as London crunched past, until finally, his building loomed into sight.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, tapping her credit card against the reader and stepping out.
She tapped her fingers against her hip the whole elevator ride into the heavens, thinking of how often she’d made this trip now, always so full of anticipation and pleasure. How happy she’d been knowing she was going to see Rafe.
And how badly she’d screwed up with him; how badly she’d hurt him.
She pressed the buzzer to his apartment, with no idea what she would say to him, how she could tell him how badly she’d behaved, how sorry she was. She wanted, more than anything, to go back in time to two days earlier. She wanted to slam the door in Steve’s face when he’d arrived, and to push him from her mind once and for all.
But maybe it had taken this for her to realise that. Maybe she had to have every option open to her to see which one she wanted.
She made a groaning noise of impatience, banging on the door harder now, before resting her forehead against it. Tears slid down her cheeks.
She stayed like that for several minutes, waiting, listening, hoping. But it was no good.
She swore softly and turned around, moving back towards the elevator. She’d call him. She lifted her phone from her pocket and jabbed the lift button impatiently.
When it opened, it wasn’t empty. One of Rafe’s drivers emerged, his expression as implacable as always.
But Ivy didn’t care that the man’s face hardly invited conversation.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, knowing she must look like a wreck and unable to mind. “Please! Do you know where Rafe is?”
The man was wary, but apparently, he sensed Ivy’s desperation because after a beat, he said, “Mr Santoro flew to Spain last night.”
Ivy squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you.”
Just the thought of Rafe on a different land-mass, a flight away, made her lurch painfully. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had to go back in time – and because she couldn’t, she would fix the mistakes of the past. She would reach for her own future, the future she wanted. “Thank you,” she said again, breathlessly, stepping into the lift and pressing the button for the ground.
She was almost jumping out of her skin with impatience by the time it pulled to a stop. She jogged out of the elevator, across the foyer of the apartment building, and through the sliding glass doors.
There were always taxis nearby and it only took a minute or two for Ivy to flag one down. “Heathrow,” she said hurriedly, and lifted her phone out, using a flight app to scan airfares. There was nothing for several hours, and it would mean two connecting flights, but she didn’t care.
Rafe was at the end of those flights, he was at Diego, the beautiful Spanish house with the vines that kissed the sand and sea, and she would be there with him soon. Nothing mattered more than that.
*
The sun was low in the sky when she drove the car through the gates to his estate. After several hair-raising moments, driving on the wrong side of the road and taking mistaken turn-offs, she’d finally remembered the way – no mean feat given her general lack of navigational sensibility.
She held her breath the whole way up the winding hill, her eyes torn between the house and the vines, desperate for a sign of Rafe.
She had barely stopped the engine before she was alighting, running to the house and banging on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again, then pushed the doors inwards and tore through the house, looking from room to room, her heart clutching when he wasn’t there.
The driver had said Rafe had come to Spain, but didn’t he have an apartment somewhere else? What if he wasn’t here? What if the driver was wrong?
Ivy spun around, knowing, deep in her heart, that wasn’t the case. He was here somewhere.
She was running on autopilot, through the vines, down the hill, towards the sea, looking left and right as she went. And when she didn’t see him, she called for him, “Rafe!” Loud and full of her desperate, aching hope.
“Rafe?”
Where was he? Panic was flooding her, anger, despair, desperation. “Rafe?”
Her feet landed on the sand and she kicked her shoes off, looking up and down the beach until finally – yes. It was him.
Running on the sand, earphones in, wearing only a pair of shorts, so that his glorious body was on display to her, and she could only watch him, her mouth dry, her heart racing, her soul soaring. She watched as he took step after step and then she was running to, running towards him, with no idea what she must look like and no ability to care.
“Rafe,” she shouted, as she got close enough that surely he must hear.
He lifted his head in her direction and a sharp flash of emotion crossed his face before he flattened it, leaving only cool disdain.
He lifted his earphones out and left them dangling around his neck. His chest was moving with the efforts of his run. He stood still, his hands by his side, silently watchful, intense, but not because he was reading her as he had done in the past. This was an intensity born of emotions – emotions she didn’t understand.
He didn’t speak and suddenly Ivy had too many words and yet they were locked inside of her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said in a rush.
He didn’t speak. His eyes held hers, and she had no idea what he was feeling, nor what he wanted.
“I never meant to hurt you,” she added, with a shake of her head, catching her hair as the breeze ran off the sea and lifted it. She tucked it behind her ear and saw the way his eyes followed the gesture.
“Did you have coffee with him?”
Ivy shook her head. “Yes,” she contradicted. “I had to.”
He visibly withdrew from her. “I see.”
“No, you don’t.” She frowned, knowing that the next words she spoke were some of the most important in her life. “I was with him for a very long time. Up until a few months ago, I thought he was all I wanted.” She saw the pain on Rafe’s features and knew that she was causing it. She hated that, but the truth was essential. “But I was wrong. So wrong. It’s hard to explain. I just… so much of who I thought I was seemed wrapped up in who I was with Steve. So many memories have him in them. He’s everywhere I look. I thought he was a part of me, too big a part to let go. But he’s just my past. He’s just history.”
He looked away, along the beach, and a muscle jerked in his jaw.
“I don’t love him. I think I probably haven’t loved him for a long time. We were friends. Good friends. But it was never this.”
He still didn’t look at her.
“I refused to admit to myself that I love you, Rafe. I knew there was danger with yo
u, from the minute we met, but I told myself it was just sex and that you weren’t interested in a relationship – for all the reasons this shouldn’t make sense.”
“And what reasons are those?”
“Come on! You’re a billionaire, you live in Spain, you don’t have girlfriends, you don’t do relationships…”
“When did I ever say that?”
“You told me you’d never been with anyone for more than a few nights…”
“Until I met you,” he corrected. “Then, I threw my life open, welcomed you into it. You, I have needed and wanted unendingly.” He paused, to let the words take effect. “And you know the other things do not matter.”
She bit down on her lip, knowing she needed to finish what she was saying. “I’m trying to explain how I felt, what I told myself, why I kept you at a distance. I didn’t want to fall in love with you and I think that made me cling to the memory of Steve even tighter, as though being heartbroken over him would protect me from this. But this, what we are, it’s so much bigger than anything I’ve ever known. I hate that I’ve hurt you. I hate it. I hate that you told you loved me and that I didn’t say it straight back, that I walked away from you, leaving you thinking I was going to go back to Steve. I hate that moment of my life, and I wish, I wish on a thousand stars and sunrays that I could undo it.” She lowered her voice, the words trembling across the sea. “ Because I do love you, Rafe. I love you. I’ve loved you every time we’ve touched and kissed and laughed. I love you for how patient you’ve been with me, how you’ve given me breathing space to realise how I felt. I love you because you are good and strong and kind and smart and my perfect, perfect match in every way.”
Slowly, painfully slowly, he turned to face her, and his expression was unreadable.
“Is it over with him?”
“It was over months ago.”
“Still… you let him get under your skin. What if he calls in a week? A month? A year?”
“He won’t.”
But it was like a red rag to a bull. His eyes flashed. “I am no woman’s second choice, Ivy.”
“How can you think you would be?” She pushed her hands to his chest then, needing to touch him, to forge the connection that had always held them together. “I’m telling you I love you. That I love you in a way I’ve never known I could love. That I love you in a way that has become my oxygen and hope, that you are my all. Steve could call every day and it would make no difference. I don’t want him. I don’t want the life I had with him. I want… if you’ll have me… I want this. I want us.”
He stared at her and Ivy’s heart was aching inside of her.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” she said, looking down at the sand and dropping her hand. “I can’t lose you.”
He shook his head and Ivy was full of desperate anguish.
“Please, Rafe, don’t! Don’t close the door on this because I made a stupid mistake. Damn it, damn you, I told you I was messed up. I was so messed up, so screwed up, and I can’t … Please, please, please tell me I haven’t ruined this?”
He expelled a breath. “Ruined this?”
“Us. I want to go back. I want things to be how they were. I’ll move here, to Spain. I’ll do whatever it takes. I want this.”
He swore angrily. “Stop it.”
Hope died a sharp death inside of her.
“Stop thinking that to be in love you need to give yourself away. I don’t want you to move to Spain; when did I ask that of you? You love London. You love your job. I’m proud of you for the work you do. You are clever and incredibly talented, a great asset. As if I would ever ask you to give that up, just to prove you care for me. Do you think I’m so small a man?”
His words were like a warm treacle balm over her fragmented nerves. “No, but… you love it here.”
“I love you more,” he said honestly.
Hope fluttered, just a small beat inside of her. “But you left.”
“Si.” He dragged a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I left so I could think, and thinking with you only miles away was hard. Do you know what I wanted to do after you left my apartment?”
“What?” It was a whisper from deep within her soul.
“I wanted to beat him to a pulp.” He grimaced. “I wanted to drag you over my shoulder and bring you here – caveman style, just like you said. I wanted to chain you to my bed and feed you champagne and cheese until you recognised that you loved me. And so I left. Because I had to. You cannot force someone to love you, and love that isn’t freely given is not worth having.”
Ivy held her breath. “How can you be so clever about these things when you’ve never even been in a serious relationship?”
“Because I met you,” he said with a shrug. “And I’m a fast learner.”
Her smile was counter-intuitive. She had no reason to think things would work out and yet somehow, she was full of faith.
“I came here to give you time. To make my peace with the fact that I might have to play the long game, and wait for you to get him out of your system. I came here to brace for the fact that I might have to watch you go back to him, that I would have to be your friend in the wings, seeing you with someone else, knowing I loved you and that meant letting you choose what life you wanted.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “You meant for us to stay friends?”
“I love you,” he said simply. “Sick as it might be, that means having you in my life in any capacity.”
Ivy sobbed softly, because it was the ultimate testament of his love, and his character, and she felt her heart blow wide open. “And what capacity will you have me in now?”
His smile was slow to spread but it reached right inside of her, stretching her in new places, making her whole body fly. “You are my friend,” he said, reaching down and tangling their fingers together. “My lover.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “My everything.” And then, as the sun bled into the ocean, he dropped his knees to the cool, white sand. “My wife?”
Another silent sob and then Ivy was nodding, falling to the sand herself so that she could kiss him and feel their bodies wrapped together.
“You’ll marry me.” It wasn’t a question; Ivy was used to Rafe now. To his manner of dictating terms. And she loved that about him, just as she loved everything that made up this man.
Ivy had held onto the past with both hands, refusing to let go of who she’d been – but the future was ahead of her now, a future that was filled with everything she’d never been brave enough to admit she wanted. The sun dipped down, closing the day and bringing in darkness, but there was only light in Ivy’s heart, and the promise of many new days, with Rafe Santoro by her side.
EPILOGUE
“CAN I OPEN THEM yet?” She asked, a smile playing around her lips.
“Almost.” Rafe’s voice was deep and sensual, and even though they’d been married for two years, Ivy felt the same tremble of desire and anticipation that never failed to spread through her.
He guided her forward, her feet moving over the tiled floor, her mind trying to guess where in the Diego house they were. But she was convinced he’d been walking her in circles, until she had no concept of which way was up.
“Here.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and Ivy peeked her eyes open, blinking, and frowning as the room took shape before her.
They hadn’t been to Spain for six weeks, and now she saw why. “You’ve built an extension?”
“Well, no. I had Lorenzo and Saul and Benedetto for that. But si, if it makes you think better of me, I crafted it by hand.” His grin was pure sensual temptation. “Do you like it?”
Ivy stepped down into the space – it was carved off the side of the main house, so that it fell away a little down the mountain, showing the view of the expansive ocean that she’d come to love with all her heart. There were several computer monitors, and a wall-mounted screen big enough to serve as a cinema, an arm chair, a sofa, a little kitchenette.
“You built
me an office?”
He nodded, his expression intensely watchful. “You are giving up your life in London. It doesn’t mean you need to give up your work.”
She arched a brow and ran her hand over the round, full tummy. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I think my attention’s going to be split for a while.”
He nodded. “Yes, indeed.” And like a kid in a candy store, Rafe moved quickly through the office, turning back towards Ivy when he reached a door. “But look.”
Curious, she followed behind him, and when he pushed the door inwards, she saw that he’d thought of everything. “A nursery?”
He nodded. “With a nanny’s apartment through here.” He pointed towards yet another door.
“We haven’t decided on a nanny,” Ivy pointed out, a smile on her lips.
“No, but the option is there.” He shrugged. “Or we can put your parents here when they come to visit. Or Lisette,” he added teasingly, and Ivy laughed. Though the announcement of her engagement to Rafe had come out of the blue, but pleasure had quickly followed surprise, and Lisette had come to stay with them often.
Rafe sobered. “I want you to have everything you need in life, Ivy. You know that.”
She walked towards him, more slowly now. With only weeks to go until the birth of the baby, her back was sore and she was tired often. “Do you think I need anything more than what I have, Rafe?”
“My life’s work has become guessing that.”
She shook her head. “You, me, and a healthy little baby – that’s more than I ever thought I would have.” She lifted up on tiptoes and kissed him, and he kissed her back. Pleasure spun around them, a happiness from deep within. Here, in the house named for his father, Rafe would become a dad, and despite his wealth and success, there was nothing that mattered more to him than the family he was making. He broke the kiss, reaching down for Ivy’s hand and lifting it to his lips.
“Well, Miss Hennessey, what do you say we have a swim before the sun sets?”
Rafe had told Ivy that he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d told her he would make her fly. And he’d been doing that every day since she’d met him. He was the force at her back, pushing her forward, making her soar, bringing her dreams into her lap.
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