CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lennon
Airports are weird places. The kind where every goodbye feels heavy, and every reunion has the chance to be epic. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I wait in the arrival terminal, clutching a silly little balloon that says Welcome Home in bright, obnoxious neon letters.
It was a good idea when I bought it. Now? Standing here in a dress—yes, a dress—in the middle of May with rain-soaked boots and my leather jacket, I’m starting to feel shy.
What if Ruben thinks I’m being extra?
I glance at the blue screen, announcing that his flight from Miami where he had a layover has landed. My stomach flips. He’s here. He’s actually here.
Play it cool, Lennon . I shift on my feet, trying not to look like the kind of woman who comes to the airport when specifically told not to. Because that’s exactly who I am.
The first people start trickling out. Tired travelers dragging bags and looking half-dead. And then, as if the universe orchestrates it, there he is.
Ruben.
Even coming off a long-haul flight, he looks like sin wrapped in a grey jacket. His dark eyes sweep the crowd, not focusing on anyone in particular. His phone is in his hand, his thumb swiping across the screen. I stand frozen for a second until, like magic, his gaze locks on mine.
The smile that spreads across his face could end wars. It’s pure, gorgeous, and mine .
I’d walk through hell and back, barefoot, if it means getting that smile at the end.
“I told you not to come,” he says the moment he’s close enough to touch. But instead of scolding me, his lips claim mine in a kiss that leaves no room for doubt.
“And I told you I don’t follow orders,” I fire back, giving him just enough sass to make him grin.
He kisses me again, softer this time. “I’m happy you’re here, anyway.”
The balloon bobs awkwardly as he takes my hand and pulls me toward the door, his carry-on rolling behind him.
“Where are you parked?” he asks, voice low and commanding in that way that makes my stomach tighten.
“What?” I blink at him, distracted by how his thumb rubs slow circles against the back of my hand. “What about your bags?”
“The driver’s got them,” he says casually. “I texted him as soon as I saw you.”
Oh, that’s what he was doing… I shake my head, amused. “Okay, my car’s right here. Third floor.”
“Good.” He looks at me, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Let’s head to my condo.”
“What?” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “Not in the mood for surprises? I figured you’d love another round of unexpected fun.”
He chuckles, a low sound that sends a thrill through me. “We need to talk. So no, Lennon, no surprises. Just a warm shower, some greasy food, and maybe—if you behave—some fun before going to sleep.”
Behave? That word, in his voice, promises all kinds of trouble.
“Sounds serious,” I say, trying to sound casual, even though my heart is racing.
“It is.” He squeezes my hand, his expression softening just enough to make me curious.
“Secretive much?” I prod, flashing him a cheeky smile. “Come on, Posada. Give me a clue.”
He smirks, shaking his head. “No, Chispita . Sixteen hours on a plane. I’m not giving you anything right now but instructions.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. Bossy looks good on him.
When we reach my car, Ruben takes the balloon and carry-on, tucking the latter into the trunk before opening the driver’s door for me. Always the gentleman, even when he’s grumpy.
“My condo’s in Yerba Buena Island,” he says as I slide into the driver’s seat. “Take the 101.”
He hands me his credit card to cover the parking. Classic Ruben.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” I give him a mock salute, letting the sarcasm drip from my tone.
“That smart mouth of yours,” he says, his voice dipping low. “You know what that’s going to get you, don’t you?”
I glance over, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
He leans closer, his gaze darkening. “Both.”
? ? ?
Ruben lives in an upscale community perched on a little hill in the middle of the small island. The view is breathtaking, the kind you could lose hours staring at. His place is small but modern and impeccably designed, each detail reflecting quiet elegance.
He gives me a quick tour. Two bedrooms, an open space blending the kitchen, dining, and living areas, and a balcony with floor-to-ceiling windows open to the island’s panoramic beauty.
“Do you cook?” I ask, surprised to find his kitchen well-used despite its pristine condition. The gleaming countertops and carefully organized utensils tell a story of routine and care.
“My mother would kill me if I didn’t,” he replies with a shrug. His voice is casual, but his expression softens at the mention of her. Gosh, he looks good, too good, with his damp hair curling at the edges, a plain black raglan tee stretching over his broad chest, and a pair of worn jeans that look as comfortable as they are distracting. The sight of him, freshly clean and relaxed, makes my pulse skip, but the tension between us remains unspoken, heavy as a storm cloud.
“She said none of her sons would ever be a nuisance for any woman.”
“You’re a nuisance anyway,” I quip, unable to resist. “And speaking of nuisances, you said we needed to talk.”
“Eat first, then talk.”
He sets the takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and gestures for me to sit on the couch. I obey without a word. Gosh, I’m nervous.
“I ordered extra spring rolls,” he adds as he brings the plates over. “Figured you’d want some.”
“Thanks.” My voice sounds smaller than I’d like. I hate how it betrays me.
We eat mostly in silence. He dives into his food with a focused kind of hunger, but I can tell his mind is elsewhere. Mine is too.
When the plates are cleared and the cartons closed, he leans back on the couch, stretching one arm along the back. His other hand rests on his thigh, his fingers drumming a steady, contemplative rhythm.
“Lennon,” he starts, his tone calm but deliberate. “We’re not kids.”
I blink at him, startled by the directness of his statement.
“I’m thirty-five. You’re thirty-one. Adults face issues, even the big ones, by sitting down and talking about them. No matter how hard it is.”
My chest tightens, my pulse stuttering under his steady gaze.
“If we want a future together,” he continues, his voice unwavering, “honesty and communication come first. About everything. Because I’m not losing you over fear or secrets.”
The weight of his words crashes into me, leaving me breathless.
“That being said,” he says, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, “I’ve been looking into things. About my boss. About the theater. About you.”
The knot in my stomach tightens, twisting painfully.
“Nora Callahan,” he says softly. “Your mother and Aiden Fisher had a relationship. I’m sure you know… he is… your biological father.”
The air leaves my lungs in a sharp exhale. Tears prick my eyes as my worst fear becomes reality.
“You found out,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Yeah,” he says gently, his gaze never wavering.
Tears spill over, and I look away, ashamed. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why?” he asks, his tone gentle but insistent.
“At first, it was another reason not to trust you,” I admit, my voice breaking. “You were working for him , Ruben, trying to buy the Olsons’ property. You were the enemy. Aiden, he is… he could be…” I finish with a shrug. He knows what I mean.
The way his jaw clenches it is evident that Ruben is pissed, but he lets me speak.
“And then it became fear,” I continue, brushing my cheeks. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see him. I didn’t want to lose this, us, because of who my father is. I’m so sorry, Ruben…”
Ruben exhales sharply, his dark eyes filled with emotion.
“Silly girl, you have nothing to be sorry about.” he murmurs, kneeling before me. He takes my hands in his, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles.
“Ruben, he’s the man who made your career. Aiden can destroy you in a blink without even regretting it.”
“You don’t need to worry about it,” he counters with a firm voice.
“But your career… everything you’ve built over the years.” I’m blurting out all my fears. I’m going to lose him today, I’m sure.
“You’re worth more than that. You’re worth everything.”
I choke back a sob, his words unraveling every ounce of my resolve.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he says firmly. “This is us getting on the same page. No more secrets. No more running from this, from us.”
Tears flow freely now, and he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly. His warmth is everything I need. His arms around me feel like my haven—like home.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I whisper against his chest.
“I know,” he replies, his voice soft but steady. “And I’m not angry. I get it. But now, you don’t have to protect yourself. Not from me.”
I nod, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping me afloat.
“We’ve got more in common than you think,” he says, his voice dropping.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wiping my cheeks.
“Our mothers share the same name,” he says, his voice tinged with grief. “Mine passed a few years ago. A stroke. Suddenly and unexpectedly. Later, we found out it was a genetic condition. My sister, Elena, inherited it. She’s fine now, but…” He trails off, his pain palpable.
“I’m so sorry, Ruben,” I say, my heart aching for him.
He nods, his jaw tightening. “Family means everything to me. Why I’m ready to fight so damn hard for the people I love.”
I cup his cheek, my thumb brushing over his stubble. “Your mom must’ve been incredible.”
“She was. Just like yours was.”
“She was a hero,” I whisper, my throat tight. “She died saving her unit.”
After I finish the story I heard so many times from Freya’s words, Ruben leans in, his forehead resting against mine. “We’ll be okay, Lennon. No more secrets. No more fear.”
“Promise?” I ask, my voice small.
“Promise,” he replies, sealing it with a kiss.
The kiss is slow at first, then deepens, igniting a fire between us. His hands slide up my sides, and I shiver under his touch.
“Ruben,” I whisper, my hands gripping his shirt.
“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting me as though I weigh nothing.
I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to his room, his lips trailing down my neck.
“No more secrets,” he says again, his voice a low growl.
“No more secrets,” I agree, breathless, knowing this moment is exactly where we’re meant to be.