by Jade Kerrion
It was over.
She had made her choice—an affair—and Rico had made his—or nothing.
She unblocked his phone number, but he didn’t call. He didn’t send her any e-mail or text messages. Nicole checked her smartphone frequently, wondering if she had missed something, but no, he hadn’t sent anything.
Too raw from her meeting with her father, too shaken by Marie’s near miss with death, and dreading the return of Big Guy to his owner, Nicole didn’t—couldn’t—spend time thinking about Rico and what might have been. Otherwise, she would completely fall apart and she simply couldn’t afford to do that.
There was no one around to pick her up.
The same tunnel-vision willpower that allowed her to survive childhood trauma and the loss of her twin sister allowed her to focus on enjoying the precious little time she had left with Big Guy. Even so, Saturday came around sooner than she expected. Nicole ran a stiff brush through Big Guy’s fur. “The groomer did a nice job on you,” she murmured softly. Speaking softly helped ensure her voice didn’t shake too much. “I’m going to miss you.”
The dog turned and nuzzled her. He thumped his tail against the rug.
Nicole surveyed her living room—the huge dog bed spread in front of the fireplace, the wicker basket of dog toys next to it, and the food and water bowls next to the dining table. Big Guy had filled her life; her condominium would feel wretchedly empty without him.
Six weeks was all it had taken Big Guy—and Rico—to transform her life.
“And now you’re leaving,” she whispered as she hugged the dog. Rico had already left. She supposed it was for the best. The affair track hadn’t worked out for them. The relationship track hadn’t either, and friendship? Well, apparently, it wasn’t enough. Nicole rubbed Big Guy’s ears. “Guess it’s just you and me on this last trip out the door.”
The doorbell rang. Big Guy went up to it and woofed. His tail wagged.
Rico stood outside, his hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jeans. He looked as handsome as ever, but he wasn’t smiling. The grim set of his face suggested that he might have been almost as miserable as she had been the entire past week.
Nicole’s heart leaped into a crazy thumping dance, but consummate skill kept her smile even. “I didn’t expect you.”
“I said I would be here, didn’t I? Shall we?” Rico asked. “My car’s parked in the no-parking zone in front of your building, so it’s literally rarin’ to go, unless you want to take yours.”
She managed a tight laugh and hoped it concealed her skittering emotions. “All right. We’ll take yours.”
Nicole gave Rico directions to the building where Big Guy’s owner resided, but said little else. He finally glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I just hate saying goodbye.”
“It’ll be okay.”
She shrugged.
“You believe it, don’t you?” he asked.
“It took me decades to be okay with what happened to my family, but yeah, everything will be okay, eventually.”
“You are such a cheerful optimist. That’s what I love about you.”
Nicole shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”
“Saying what?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” Rico’s voice was bland but his eyes glittered dangerously.
“I wish you’d be more careful with your choice of words.”
“Words like love?” His tone took on an edge.
She shook her head and turned to look out the window. It was easier than looking at him and blaming herself for how badly she had screwed up to lose her one chance at the amazing and most unexpected love to come her way.
Her shoulders sagged on a sigh. No, it wasn’t her one chance. It had been her first chance. Rico had been the first man who hadn’t wanted to settle for an affair. He had been the first man who had wanted a relationship. And just when she had been ready to take that step, the relationship had evaporated—too fragile to survive her interference in his family’s affairs and her deep-set distrust of men.
She was only thirty. Odds were, when she had a better handle on her trust issues, she would find other chances at love
Though none like Rico, her traitorous heart whispered.
Affairs and relationships were clearly out of the question, but friendship with Rico was still an option, and she didn’t want to lose it too. Schooling her expression into a steady professional smile, she turned to him. “Do you have any plans for the weekend after taking Big Guy home?”
“I don’t know. It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
He took his eyes off the bumper-to-bumper traffic and gave her a long look. “I don’t know if you’re doing it deliberately, or if you’re just unspeakably clueless.”
She scowled at him. “There’s no need to be offensive.”
“No, and I apologize. Look, the building is a block over. I’m pulling into this parking lot here. It beats circling the block looking for street parking.”
Nicole waited on the sidewalk, Big Guy obediently seated beside her while Rico fed his credit card into the parking meter. She followed the directions on her smartphone to the address she had been given, but paused in surprise and looked up at the name on the building. “It’s a nursing home.”
“Really?” Rico leaned over, his shoulders bumping against hers as he checked the address. “Yeah, guess it’s here.” He followed her into the building where a middle-aged man sat behind the security desk.
Nicole smiled at him. “I’m here to see Mrs. Karen Hendricks. She’s expecting me. I’m Nicole Lefton.”
The man checked his records. “Yup, you’re on the list. Go on in. Suite 212.”
“Can the dog come too?”
“Sure, of course.”
Nicole, Rico, and Big Guy walked past sunlit rooms attractively decorated with sitting areas clustered near bookshelves and tables set up with chess and backgammon sets. Two elderly couples, sitting across from each other at a game of bridge, glanced up and nodded a greeting “So nice to see the young ones here,” Nicole heard a woman say in passing.
The door of suite 212 was open and Nicole tapped on it lightly. “Mrs. Hendricks?”
“Yes, dearie.” The tap of a cane against tiles preceded unsteady footsteps. “Ah, there you are.” An elderly woman, her thin gray hair smoothed into a stylish cut, appeared at the doorway. Her gaze fell on the dog, and the wrinkles on her face spread in a warm, delighted smile. “And Klaus. Dear Klaus.”
The dog walked up to her and pressed his large head against her. His tongue darted out to lick her hand.
“You look wonderful.” Karen’s hands shook as she stroked the dog’s head. She looked up gratefully at Nicole. “You’ve taken such wonderful care of him. Thank you.”
“It was a pleasure. He’s a great dog. I’m sorry it took so long to track you down. The microchip sent us to a place in SOHO.”
“That’s where Joe and I lived when we first got Klaus. Joe got him for me after he was diagnosed with cancer. He knew he hadn’t long, and he didn’t want me to be alone.” Karen’s smile was wistful, but tinged as much with happy memories as with sad ones. “After Joe died, I moved to a smaller place, but even that was too much for me after my fall.” She tapped her side. “I broke my hip. It never quite healed properly so I decided to move here, but Klaus got away from his pet walker and no one called to return him.” She shook her head. “I didn’t realize the microchip wasn’t updated. How did you find me?”
“I hired someone to call all the Joe Hendricks in the directory. When it didn’t work, he started calling anyone with a Hendricks in his or her name. It required fair bit of grunt work, but I’m glad we were able to bring Klaus home to you.”
“And I am so glad to see him.” Karen’s hands continued the endless, gentle stroking of Klaus’s fur. “But he can’t stay.”
“But your home allow
s pets.”
She nodded. “Yes, they do, but I’d never planned for him to live out the rest of his life in a nursing home. He’s much too young for that. He’s a former military dog, did you know?”
Nicole nodded.
“I was going to keep him with me while I found a new home and family for him. And now, I wonder—” Karen looked directly at Nicole. “—whether he may have found his own new home and family.”
“With me?” Nicole’s eyes widened. “Are you sure you’re not going to be able to keep him?”
“I’d already made up my mind before moving to the home. It was just a matter of time. I would be thrilled if you’d let me know how he’s doing every now and again, but if you’re happy with him and he’s happy with you…”
“My place isn’t very big—”
“None of that really matters. If we all just waited around until the situation was perfect, nothing would ever get done. People would never fall in love. Children would never be born. Pets would never be adopted. Our lives would never be full.”
“We are happy.” Nicole’s voice trembled. “We’re very happy together.”
Karen smiled. “I thought so. You can tell from the way he looks at you even though he’s sitting next to me.”
Nicole glanced down at the dog and found herself the single-hearted focus of Big Guy’s soft black eyes. She knew that expression. He was waiting for her to call out to him, waiting to be called to her side.
Nicole was suddenly acutely aware of another pair of eyes fixed on her. She looked up and met Rico’s eyes. Could it be…?
Rico did not say anything, however, until they ended their visit with Karen and walked out of the nursing home, with Nicole now established as Big Guy’s legitimate owner. Rico unlocked the car and opened the back door for Big Guy, who jumped into the car and sprawled across the seat. “That’s one happy ending,” Rico said quietly as he shut the door on the dog.
Nicole nodded. “It’s just one, though.”
“Were you hoping for more?”
“I don’t think I expected any happy endings; perhaps that was part of the problem.” Nicole’s heart thudded. Did she dare? Did she finally dare take a risk on Rico, and on love? She drew a deep breath and hoped that her voice didn’t shake as much as her hands trembled. “I’ve finally figured out that with relationships, you just have to step out in faith and agree to grow and change together.”
“Oh?” Rico raised an eyebrow. “What inspired you not to play it safe by pushing me away?”
“I figured you—and I—were worth the risk. I can’t wait until I’m perfectly whole emotionally. I may never get there. But if it’s okay with you—”
He shrugged and pulled three cards from his pocket. Nicole’s heart skittered. She recognized the back of those cards—the “affair,” “friendship,” and “real love” cards she had idly drawn out in her apartment several weeks earlier—just before she decided, too late, that love was the right answer for her. He fanned them out in his hand, the words faced away from her. “I prefer to take a gamble. Call it destiny, if you will. Choose one. Let fate decide for us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to let chance decide on something like this for me.”
“Then decide what you want, and see if the cards agree.”
I choose love. Her jaw sticking out defiantly, Nicole snatched a card out of his hand and turned it over.
Love.
Real love.
She huffed out her breath. “Okay.” She smiled up at him. “That decides it, then.”
Rico tugged her close and kissed her. The casual intimacy in the middle of the parking lot made her toes curl. The public kiss was another one of those things she had never expected to experience, although she suspected it would feature prominently and repeatedly in her future. Rico would make sure of it.
When they finally broke the lingering kiss, Rico smiled down at her. “I’d made dinner reservations for us, but I hadn’t counted on still having Big Guy. How about a dog-friendly diner instead?”
Nicole’s relief and joy were so intense she could feel her cheeks aching from the wideness of her grin. Suddenly, a stray thought made her frown. “Wait…you made dinner reservations?”
“Yes.”
“Knowing we would head down this path?”
“Hoping.”
“Oh, no. You’re not going to fool me that easily. Let me see the other two cards.”
“Nope. You’ve chosen your fate. Accept it.”
“Let me see.” Nicole lunged for the cards in Rico’s hand. Inside the car, Big Guy yelped excitedly as she snatched the cards from Rico’s hand and turned them over.
The remaining two cards were identical to the one she held. Real love. Thrice over. Guaranteed.
Nicole laughed and tiptoed to kiss his lips. “You’re a sneaky, manipulative bastard. I knew there was a reason I love you.”
Rico wrapped her in his arms and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I had a wretched week. I couldn’t figure out how to hold on to you, but I knew I couldn’t give you up.”
“So you resorted to tarot cards?”
“That was Plan A. I’d worked out Plan E and F this morning before heading out to meet you.”
Nicole gaped at him. “I don’t know whether to be flattered that you’re trying so hard or appalled that you’d think I’d take that much convincing, but regardless, we made it.” She relaxed into the strength and protection of his arms.
“Yes,” Rico murmured before leaning down to claim another kiss. “We were always meant to be.”
THE END
Owned
Owned
Marie Vargas had always believed that her love for Phil Casteen was meant to last forever, but that was before he divorced her. Not even winning a $1,000,000 lottery fills the emptiness in her life. Eager for a new beginning, she takes a long-awaited Key West vacation, but Phil is already there, and he’s carved a new life for himself—a life that would be even better if he got his hands on his share of her winnings.
Vulnerable and still in love, Marie is easy prey, but what does Phil really want from her? Will their unexpected reunion offer Marie the emotional closure she needs, reopen wounds that haven’t fully healed, or shatter her heart beyond repair?
Chapter 1
A ring is round, has no end. That’s how long I’ll be your—
Marie Vargas’s mental voice cracked as she twisted the wedding band on her left hand. The lump filling her throat made it difficult to suck down her next breath of air. Jeez, I’m such a basket case.
Divorcing Phil was the right thing to do.
It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
The unsigned legal papers that would end her marriage were a leaden weight in her tote bag, dragging her down as she walked along the street toward her lawyer’s office in downtown Manhattan. Passersby jostled past her, obviously unwilling to put up with her less-than-brisk speed on a busy Monday morning.
They were crazy if they expected her to run with excitement toward the end of a relationship that had meant everything to her, even if it was the right thing to do. In a fit of rage spurred by the demons of a war he had survived and the restraining order she had taken out on him, he had shot her—he had missed—and then he had shot himself, and mostly missed.
Marie squeezed her eyes shut briefly, but the image of Phil, bleeding from the grazing wound on his head, slumped to the ground, had seared into her mind. She had screamed. Neighbors scurried out and called 911. One of them—old Mrs. Jones who lived in the next-door apartment—had wrapped her arms around Marie. “It’s going to be all right, dearie,” she had crooned. “You’re going to be all right.”
Mrs. Jones had lied.
Nothing was going to be all right again.
Marie swallowed hard.
To be fair, nothing had been all right for a while. Not since the attack in Afghanistan that killed many of Phil’s marine buddies and sent him home with invisible mental and emotional i
njuries far more scarring and damaging than physical ones. The Phil she had known—the funny, calm, patient man—had become short-tempered, then hostile, and finally violent.
He had hit her. Not once, but many times.
How long would she have put up with the abuse if he hadn’t shot at her?
Too long. Perhaps one time was already too much, but she loved him, and he had loved her; she was certain of that much.
What else would explain the horror she had seen in Phil’s eyes after he pulled the trigger? The bullet had pierced the brick wall, inches above her head, but he had stared at her. Their eyes met. Nothing came out of his lips, but she could almost hear him scream his denial. She had never seen as much pain in anyone’s eyes as she had in that moment before he turned the gun on himself.
Marie sniffled. Tears leaked out the side of her eyes. Oh, jeez. She had to pull herself together before seeing her lawyer.
She entered the little convenience store on the first floor of the high-rise office building and idly browsed through its shelves—mostly to steady herself—before walking over to the counter to pay for her small pack of gum. Her gaze fell on the garishly colored poster behind the attendant. She and Phil had a small collection of lottery tickets they bought to mark important occasions. They had never won anything, not even $2 from one of those scratch-off game tickets, but over the years, buying a lottery ticket was their equivalent of sending a card to celebrate the date.
Today was momentous, wasn’t it?
So why not? Marie set her jaw. “I’d like one of those tickets, please.”
She tapped the end of her pen against the counter. Six numbers. The most obvious ones—her birthday and Phil’s—came to mind, but at the last moment, she changed her selection to two other dates.
Dates that meant everything to her.
Dates that were about to mean nothing to her.
Marie paid for her purchases and tucked her lottery ticket in her wallet before heading toward the elevators that would take her to her lawyer’s firm. She was promptly ushered into Nicole Lefton’s office. With the steadiest smile she could muster, Marie sat across from Nicole and pulled the unsigned divorce papers out of her tote bag. “Got a pen?”