Reckless Hearts

by Melody Grace

  Is this what Will was trying to escape, leaving it all behind the way he did?

  As the elevator rises, my nerves do too, so by the time I get off on the seventeenth floor, I half want to turn around and go straight back home. But I force myself to head down the hallway to his apartment, every step full desperate hope—that he’s still a man of his word, the way he always promised.

  That even after everything, he’s still mine.

  I reach the right door, and lift my hand. Still, it takes another deep breath before I can bring myself to press the bell.

  My excitement lifts, anticipation already spinning through my veins. God, I’ve missed him. Just to see his face again makes my heart sing a wild rhythm in my chest. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him yet, but I’ll think of something. I’ll make him see he was right about me from the start.

  I press the bell again, and then I hear footsteps approaching. The door opens.

  “Surprise—” I start, awkward, then I stop, the words crumbling in the air between us.

  It’s Helena, still just as polished as the last time I saw her, in a chic little shift dress and lipstick, her hair smoothed back in a perfect, complicated French braid.

  My heart sinks. “Oh.” I step back, feeling awkward. “Sorry. I was . . . looking for Will, but I must have the wrong address—”

  “No, this is him,” Helena interrupts. “He should be back soon.”

  I stop, the truth sinking in. He’s here. With her.

  Oh god, I’m too late.

  “Why don’t you come in?” she offers, holding the door wider. “It’s Delilah, right? We met back in that town of yours. Helena,” she offers helpfully, with perfect manners.

  “I remember,” I manage to reply. As if I could ever forget. She’s still holding the door open for me, and I don’t know what else to do, so I follow her inside.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she offers, still so polite. “Water, soda?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  I already made a mistake, coming here, but I guess I need to torture myself even more because I can’t help but look around, taking it all in. Every inch is polished and slick, with modern furniture and gorgeous views of the city. It screams “money” from every gleaming surface—and there’s nothing here that even hints at Will. It’s like a showroom, or a photo spread from a glossy magazine: perfect and soulless, not a thing out of place.

  I turn back to Helena. She’s hovering over by the dining table, fussing with some candles. “I guess you’ve heard all kinds of terrible stories about me,” she says with a forced smile.

  “No,” I answer slowly, confused. “He didn’t tell me anything at all.”

  “Oh.” She swallows, and I realize that she’s nervous too. Maybe even more than I am. “I’m sorry for just showing up, that last time I saw you.” Helena looks away, then back, her eyes almost sad. “My therapist said I needed closure, and I guess I jumped the gun.”

  “Closure?”

  “To move on,” Helena explains. She exhales, and her perfect posture slips, like she’s letting the act go for the first time. “It just . . . wasn’t working, it hadn’t been right for a long time. I tried to make everything perfect, but I still couldn’t make him happy.” She gives me a sad smile. “I pretended like I didn’t notice, I thought, if we could just push through . . . but he hated work, he hated this apartment, and soon enough, I knew, he’d wind up hating me too. I think that’s why I did what I did. So he couldn’t be the one to break it off first. Petty, I know,” she adds wryly. “I’m working on that with the therapist too.”

  I stare at her, trying to take it in. Will was telling me the truth—their relationship had been crumbling, she cheated on him.

  It really was over.

  But I knew that all along. I’d never doubted his story, only the fact he could hide it from me.

  “I’m . . . sorry,” I tell her, and right now, I really am. I can’t imagine what it would be like to love Will and still see him slipping away from me. “I’m sorry you both had to go through that.”

  She gives me a regretful smile. “Not as sorry as I am. But, I’m glad he finally decided to come back and talk it through. There’s so much practical stuff to deal with: breaking the lease, and packing things up. Figuring out who gets what.” She looks around at the apartment sadly. “He says I can take everything. There’s really nothing he wants from our life together.”

  I would almost feel pity for her, if she hadn’t cheated on the man I love.

  Luckily, I don’t have to find an answer. There’s the sound of a key in the lock, and then the door opens. It’s Will, half-buried under a stack of packing boxes. He’s already set them down before he turns and sees me standing here. Our eyes lock.

  And then there’s nothing in the world but the two of us again.

  My heart stops. His face has been haunting me for weeks, but now he’s right here, vivid Technicolor and more perfect than anything I’ve seen. Every strand of that thick, dark hair, every inch of tanned skin. I want to hurl myself headlong into those searching hazel eyes and never come up for air.

  Mine.

  Every muscle in my body seems to cry it, and it takes all my self-control not to go throw my arms around him and kiss him with everything I have.

  “Dee.” He says my name softly, a hopeful smile creasing across his lips. “You’re here.”

  I nod. “I’m here.”

  The space between us beats with a thousand unsaid words. My head is already spinning, and I can’t look away. I just drink him in, feeling like the center of my gravity has just returned, after weeks left spinning, off-balance and out of control.

  There’s a delicate sound, Helena clearing her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” She picks up her purse, and walks to the door, pausing by Will. “The movers will be here tonight,” she tells him. “And you have my new address, in case there are any more details . . .”

  He nods. “Fine.”

  “Well then.” Helena glances back at me. “Goodbye.”

  She lets herself out, and the door closes behind her. Still, Will and I are frozen in place.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you here,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse. There’s so much emotion in his eyes; I can’t tell what he’s thinking, I only know how it feels to be near him again.

  So right, I could never leave him again.

  “I didn’t think I’d come,” I admit quietly.

  “But you’re here?” he says again, almost like he can’t believe it.

  I nod.

  “OK.” He exhales. “OK. Is Marcie back yet?”

  I blink, thrown. “What?”

  “Marcie. The business. I heard you landed Ash’s contract, that means she has to sell to you, right?” Will looks hopeful, and I can’t believe it. After everything, the first thing he thinks about is me. My career. My dreams.

  I can’t hold back any longer. I cross the room and hurl myself into his arms, clinging on for dear life. Will stumbles back under the force of my embrace, and then he’s holding me tight, cradling me to his warm, solid body, surrounding me with his scent, his touch.

  Claiming my lips for his own.

  It’s incredible. Our mouths are desperate, hungry, fevered after so long apart. I kiss him greedily, losing myself in the sensation.

  Nothing has ever felt so right.

  His tongue slides deep into my mouth, tasting me, and I can’t get enough. He pushes me up against the wall, his body rock hard against mine, and I moan into his mouth, running my hands over the taut planes of his shoulders, arching up eagerly to mold myself to him.

  Will drags his mouth away from mine, his hand cradling my face. “God, I missed you,” he groans, leaning to dip a trail of blazing kisses along my neck.

  “I missed you too,” I reply, breathless. I’m aching for him, already so turned on I can barely stand.

  But then I remember where we are. Their apartment. Right in the middle of his old life.


  I pull back. “Will . . .” I manage to tear myself away from his sinful mouth. “We should talk.”

  “Talk,” he repeats, eyes dark with lust. His hands slide over my hips, possessive. He yanks me closer. “Uh huh. Sure.”

  “Really.” I can’t help smiling, seeing him so undone like this. So gorgeously, utterly mine. I touch my finger to his lips, and give him a meaningful look. “Somewhere that maybe isn’t full of photos of your ex-fiancée?”

  That seems to snap him out of it. Will steps back, and runs a hand through the hair I just thoroughly mussed. He looks around. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

  “It’s OK.” Already, I miss touching him. I run my fingers over his arm, find his hand, and hold it tight between mine. “Believe me, I want to be kissing you too right now. And so much more. But we can’t just pick up like nothing’s happened.”

  Will nods. “I know. So, what do you want to do?”

  He looks at me with those smiling eyes, and right now, the only thing I want is to drag him to the nearest solid surface and strip him naked, but I need to keep it together. For once in my life, there’s so much more than pleasure on the line.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, the creepiness of this perfect apartment finally getting to be too much. It’s full of the ghosts of an old, dead relationship. I don’t want it to have anything more to do with the start of something new. “Let’s just go somewhere and talk.”

  Will and I exit his building out to the hot and bustling city streets. We walk, hand in hand, but neither of us say a word. Now that I’m over the first shock—and lust—at seeing him again, all my old doubts and fears are whirling in my mind.

  I want to be calm, to say the right thing now, but all the questions that drove me crazy back in Oak Harbor are still looming, just as real.

  “Tell me what you’re scared of.” Will finally speaks. He looks over at me, and the tenderness in his expression makes me ache. “I’ve told you what happened with Helena, and how much you mean to me. But I can tell it’s not enough. What can I do to make you believe in me?”

  “I do believe in you,” I say, emotion knotting in my throat. “But it still makes me terrified.”

  “What does?”

  “Thinking you might do the same thing to me one day.” I admit it out loud, the worst of all my fears. “That you’ll just change your mind again.”

  “Dee—” Will tries to interrupt me, but I shake my head. Tears are coming now, but I can’t hold back. This is too important not to get it all out, rip my heart straight from my chest and show him everything, every last fear and doubt and crazy, reckless insecurity.

  “You shed this life like it was . . . like it was an old skin,” I insist. “You just woke up one morning and left it all behind. Your job, your home, your fiancée. How do I know you wont wake up one morning and decide to move on from me?”

  My last word ends on a sob. Will pulls me into his arms. “Baby,” he says, holding me safely against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, so steady and true. He tilts my face up to look at him. “This, all of this here, it wasn’t real. This was the act, something was missing for me: doing work that matters, feeling like myself when I get up every morning. And you.” He strokes my cheek gently. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until you just showed up on that street, looking so damn determined your car lock didn’t stand a chance.”

  I manage a sniffling smile.

  “You’re not a rebound,” he tells me, his eyes intent on mine. “You’re not temporary, or a distraction. You’re everything to me. I love you so much, and it’s been killing me that I might have lost you forever.”

  I stare back into his eyes, at the only man who ever mattered. Who made me feel like the best, most brilliant version of myself. Happy. Free.

  Loved.

  “You haven’t lost me,” I tell him, and I can feel the relief flood through his body. But I still need to tell him something, the most important thing of all.

  “I forgive you.”

  Will doesn’t say a word, but I can see in his eyes, he understands just what that word means to me. And how offering it to him is the biggest gesture of love I could possibly give.

  He kisses me, and I melt into the moment: the future unfolding, breath by dizzying, glorious breath. A new beginning. A love I never thought I could be lucky enough to find.

  The man who finally had the strength and heart to prove me wrong.

  I whisper in his ear, “I’m taking you home.”

  ALMOST THE END…

  Epilogue.

  One month later…

  “We’re going to be late to your own party.”

  “But I can’t figure out what to wear!” I dash, barefoot, out of the brand-new closet Will only finished building last week. Moving into a falling-down shack has had its challenges, but there are plenty of perks too—like custom shelves made to fit my shoe collection. I hold up two dresses, still in my underwear. “Which one says ‘future real estate billionaire’?”

  “I kind of like what you’re wearing now. Or, not wearing . . .” Will pulls me closer, sliding his hands over my bare stomach. I laugh, dancing out of reach.

  “Later,” I promise, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. “Everyone’s waiting on us, and I need to look perfect.”

  “You already do.”

  He pulls me back into his arms for another kiss, and this one is so hot and bone-meltingly deep, I can’t help but fall, breathless against him. It still hits me, every time, that he’s mine. I get to kiss this man, and hold him, and know that he’s here to stay. After we got back from New York, we set about making up for lost time with a passionate whirlwind that barely let up to pause for breath, but tonight, Will takes his time, exploring my mouth with slow, deep strokes as his hands caress over my bare skin and slide all the way under—

  “Hey!” I laugh, and push him playfully away. “I can’t show up for my big night with sex hair.”

  “So I won’t touch your hair.” Will gives me a wicked grin. “I’ll keep my hands everywhere else . . .”

  He trails one hand over the lace of my bra to illustrate, and my pulse kicks. Damn, he’s too good to resist.

  “Five minutes.” I make him promise, already melting back into his arms. Will chuckles, his mouth already hot against my bare skin.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He does—twice. By the time we arrive at the party, there’s already a crowd spilling out of the small office space into the town square.

  “Finally!” Lottie grins, coming to meet me through the crowd. “I was wondering when you’d show your face. I told everyone you had car trouble,” she adds with a wink.

  “My truck would never break down,” Will protests, and I shush him, laughing.

  “Your manly pride can take the hit. Thanks,” I tell Lottie, looking around. There are balloons and streamers drifting in the summer breeze, music playing, and everyone has a drink in their hand and a smile on their face. “It looks amazing. Did you do all this?”

  “Me and Sawyer,” she says, smiling. “And Franny and Joe helped with the food . . . Annie and Liv Sullivan brought the flowers . . . Eva and Finn got the music covered. The whole town pitched in.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I say, touched.

  “We’re all so proud of you,” Lottie says. “Everyone wanted to help celebrate.”

  Will squeezes my shoulders. He can tell I’m already tearing up. But this is a big deal to me, and it means the world to share it with my friends and family like this. It’s just a small office, squeezed in between Joe’s pizza place and the local florist, but to me, it’s a kingdom.

  Delilah Morgan – Real Estate.

  The sign above the door is neat and elegant, my name picked out in gold lettering. I signed the lease and filed for my business license, but it still hasn’t sunk in yet that I’m really doing this: going out on my own for the first time.

  “Ready to go meet your adoring public?” Will asks, hugging
me from behind.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Inside, we can barely move for people, crowded in the small front office, snacking on delicious-looking food. Everyone stops to wish me well and offer referrals for future clients.

  “My cousin is just out of college, looking for a condo with roommates—”

  “Don’t tell Hank, but I’m thinking we need more space.”

  “What’s this about a luxury beach-house up the coast?” This one is from Finn, his arm draped around Eva’s shoulders. “We need something permanent for when we’re in town.”

  I laugh. “Call me next week. Tonight, I’m off the clock.”

  “Liar,” Will murmurs, a sexy whisper in my ear. “You’re already planning the open houses.”

  I grin. “You know me too well.” Then I pause. Ron Parsons is nosing around, eying the free champagne. He sees me and comes over.

  “Just thought I’d drop by, wish you well,” he says, a fake smile on his face. “Nothing like a little friendly competition in the neighborhood. Although, of course, it’s hardly competition comparing my massive firm with your cute little shop.” He laughs, obnoxious, but I just give him a friendly smile.

  “That’s so sweet of you. Me and my cute little shop will keep you in mind, you know, if I have more business than I know what to do with.”

  Ron snorts with laughter. “Sure, honey.” Then he catches sight of someone. “Bill?” he asks. The guy biting into one of Franny’s trademark cupcakes freezes with a guilty look. “Bill, man, I thought I was getting an exclusive on your listing.”

  Bill gives an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I think I’ll go with Delilah this time. She’s a local, after all.”

  Ron’s smile looks frozen. “Uh, sure. Great.”