Maria Undone

Chapter 23

Brian

I rubbed at the spot between my eyes where a dull ache refused to wane. I had a shit night's sleep, which was nothing new lately. I often woke bleary-eyed with an empty hole in my gut and a sharpness behind my eyes. Usually, my headache faded after my morning workout and a protein shake, but today, the stubborn bastard decided to hang around.

With a tired sigh, I grabbed my invoice book and flipped it open to a new page. I might as well get a head start on our upcoming jobs. I did keep a digital footprint that my part-time virtual assistant stored away once a week, but I still preferred to note everything down old school.

I started scribbling the material I needed for a new job we were starting next week. It was a straightforward roof replacement we could knock out in less than a week. I quickly noted down the required materials and priced them accordingly before calculating the man-hours to complete the work. I snapped a photo before emailing it off to my assistant. Lord knows how he could decipher my chicken scratch, but he always managed to have my books accurate and balanced.

Shutting my book with a thud, I shoved it away in my work bag before running a heavy hand down my face, catching on the two-day-old scruff I couldn't be bothered removing yet. I stared out the small window in my office, not concentrating on anything in particular.

As usual, my distracted thoughts turned to Maria. How could someone I'd only known for a brief time have this much effect on me? To the point where I was sending her two baskets of muffins and a bouquet of flowers. Despite her expressed wishes to be left alone.

Guilt assailed me as I thought of how she’d react. I was never one to steamroll someone. When Hannah and I fought, she always stressed that she needed space away from me to stew. I always gave it to her without hesitation. I wasn't one to rehash an argument or crowd her with apologies or platitudes when she made it clear she wanted to be left alone. In fact, I was happy for the space, happy to just let whatever gripes a husband and wife had with each other simmer away until it died out, and we inevitably broke the tension by deciding what we wanted to eat for dinner.

I didn't know how my gifts would go down with Maria. Would she reach out to thank me like I hoped she would? Or would I find a stash of wilted flowers shoved into the trashcan behind her store? I was hoping for the former, but knowing Maria, even as briefly as I had, I would put money on the latter. So why did I do it when she so obviously wanted to be left alone?

Because my mind wouldn't still until I said my piece to her. The way I'd treated Maria at Da Vinci's; my mind stalling when she mentioned her celibacy, and the burning jealousy I felt when confronted with Logan—it all ate at me.

And then Lissa. Christ , Lissa. I was thankful that nothing went further than it had, but I was acutely aware that I would've slept with her if she hadn't had a picture of Maria in her apartment. And then I would’ve pissed away any and all chance of Maria being with me. Not that I thought I had a chance with her now.

"Ah, boss." Harry's haltering voice from the open door pulled me from my intrusive thoughts. His low tone held a warning lilt, his eyes wide as if trying to convey a secret via telepathy. "You have a –"

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?"

My mouth dropped open in shock at the sweet, husky voice that haunted my dreams.

"– visitor," Harry finished superfluously. He stepped into the doorway and stood to the side, allowing a very pissed-off Maria to barrel in after.

"Maria." I stood, my chair wheeling back at my sudden movement. She took option three: tracking me down and storming into my office in a temper. I did not see this coming.

Her long, white, floral pleated skirt fluttered in the wind. The sun shone behind her, illuminating her figure through the almost sheer material. Christ, she looked like she belonged in a country club, sitting prettily while some silver spoon-fed douche attempted to flatter her. She definitely did not look like she belonged in a dusty worksite office surrounded by men wearing high-visibility jackets. But goodness, what I would give to be able to dirty the whiteness of her clothes.

Given the thunderous expression on her face, I knew the closest my body would get to Maria was via her knee to my balls.

It was then I noticed what she held in her arms and what was likely the cause of her storming over here, guns blazing. I winced at the sheer size of the vase and flower arrangement. It didn't look that big when the florist described it to me. It belonged more in a funeral home rather than the desired effect I’d aimed for—to woo her.

Maria stalked forward before dumping the vase on my desk. It wobbled slightly before thankfully righting itself.

Her hands went to her hips in a haughty way that should not have made my dick twitch. Her pose drew attention to her slim waist, and my eyes were unwilling to remove themselves from the tempting sight. She wore a form-fitting, white sleeveless top that showed a sliver of flat stomach. I swallowed at the sight of that smooth skin.

"You need to stop," she hissed. "The texts, the calls, the ambushing me with coffee and muffins, and now this Garden of Eden monstrosity." She slapped at a bobbing pink flower, causing a few petals to fall and the vase to wobble precariously again.

"I –"

"Was I not clear? When I told you that I didn't have time for you, what did you actually hear?"

A throat clearing tore my gaze from Maria's stormy glare. Harry was still standing by the door looking equal parts awkward and riveted. I had no doubt the boys would hear an exaggerated version of events within minutes of him leaving.

Attempting to appear I had things under control and Maria's tone hadn't shriveled my balls, I nodded curtly at Harry. "Thanks, man. I got it from here."

Harry sent me a skeptical look before reluctantly and slowly trudging down the wooden makeshift steps.

Unlike me, Maria didn't look at all embarrassed that a stranger had witnessed her angry vitriol. I had a feeling she reveled in the discomfort it brought me.

Keeping my tone calm and even, I gestured to the empty chair. "Maria, would you like to sit?"

"No, I do not want to sit," she sneered. “I want to know why you won't leave me alone after I explicitly asked you—no, I demanded you to."

"Sorry –"

"Sorry, sorry!" She threw her hands in the air and jabbed them in a frustrated motion. "You're always fucking sorry."

She pointed at herself, stabbing the middle of her chest with each word she spat out. "I've worked so hard on myself, and I'm not going to let some man ruin all my hard work. So come on." She beckoned to me before folding her arms. "Out with it. What are you so desperate to say to me?"

I was still getting over the fact that Maria was here, in my office, looking like a walking wet dream. I had so much to say to her, but not a single sentence came to my stationary brain.

"Uh...sorry...let me just think. You've caught me off guard."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I catch you unawares? Ambush you, by chance?"

Regret tore into me at her saccharine pitch. I ran a hand down my face, attempting to wipe the shame of my actions. Yes, I was a tad aggressive in my approach to having Maria speak with me. My actions were entirely manipulative, and Maria was right to go off at me for my behavior.

Although, would she be here right now if I hadn't made sure I was at the forefront of her mind? It was wrong and stupidly selfish, something that was the antithesis of how I would normally act. But I couldn't help myself.

I strolled around my desk and frowned, halting when she took several steps back in defiance.

"I apologize, Maria. I know you've told me you're no longer interested, and I should've respected that. And I did."

Her brow raised in apparent disbelief, her mouth pursing in disagreement.

"I stayed away that first time. After I saw you at work –"

"Which time?" she indignantly snapped.

I paused, my mouth closing at her rebuttal. "The first time," I gritted out.

She let out a cute grunt of agreement before jutting her chin.

Fuck it, I decided to go with honesty. "Maria, the first time I met you, I felt...revitalized."

Her perfectly groomed brow drew down. "Re...vitalized?"

"Yeah. Something drew me to you that day in that cafe. You were witty, funny, and intelligent. I could've spoken with you for hours." I shook my head in amazement. "We were so alike: both business owners, both without families."

Maria straightened her stance, her face clearing of her thunderous expression into one of icy indifference. "Please just stick to what you wanted to say to me. No need to rehash our brief dating life."

"Uh...right." I frowned, momentarily thrown off. "Sorry, I had a whole speech prepared; let me just reshuffle my cue cards," I attempted to joke.

Not even a tiny inch did her lips lift. Okay, message received. Talking points only.

My shoulders deflated, so I admitted, "I got scared."

She breathed deeply, her eyes raking me from head to toe. "Scared?"

"Of my feelings for you." I shuffled forward an inch. Maria stayed in place.

"Being a widower...there's a lot of emotions attached to that." My throat closed as it tended to when I touched this subject. I quickly shifted focus. "Emotions I won't bore you with."

Her brow furrowed further, but she thankfully didn't press. I decided to shoot straight to the point—to the truth of what caused my change of heart.

"A few weeks ago, when I was out for drinks with the guys, I met your ex."

Her shoulders stiffened, and her expression shuttered down. A pink hue painted her cheeks, but I knew it wasn't from embarrassment. "My ex?" Her eyes flickered away. "You mean Si –"

"Logan."

A strained silence fell, and her pink-painted mouth snapped shut. I pushed down the clench of uneasiness in my stomach when I realized she was clearly about to utter another name.

Maria was the first to recover, rolling her eyes and huffing in annoyance. "Logan?" she scoffed. "He wasn't an ex. It was just sex." Her slim shoulder rolled nonchalantly.

Jealousy slammed into me at the graphic imagery that sentence provided. I clenched my fists to keep my emotions at bay.

Do not be a hypocrite. Do not be a hypocrite.

"How did you meet him?" she pressed, her eyes shifting curiously. "And how did you know we slept together?"

"He's the cousin of one of my workers. When I took them out for drinks, he invited Logan to join us since he worked around the corner."

She nodded and folded her arms again. "Pleasant company, was he?"

I gave a rough, humorless laugh as I shook my head. "He was a douche. How did you –" I snapped my mouth before I dug my dirty work boots even deeper than I was. But Maria was determined to siphon every inch of admission out of me.

She lifted her chin in challenge. "How did I what?"

I blew my breath out. Fuck it, might as well hand myself my own shovel. "How did you stand to be around him?" I ground out. "He was intolerable. Braggy. Smarmy. Disrespectful." And is he the kind of man you're into?

Words left unsaid caught in my throat, but I swallowed back my unfounded resentment at the thought of Maria with that pompous asswipe.

"Yes, well, clearly, I don't have the best taste in men." Her pointed look was like an arrow to the chest. I deserved that.

"So, how did my name come up?" she continued to push, ignoring my previous questions without thought.

"Apparently, his cousin met you before or saw you together. He asked Logan if you two were still dating, and Logan, well..."

"Let me guess, he started bragging about our sexual history."

I stared at an invisible spot on her shoulder, but I ended up getting distracted by the curve of her body. "Yeah," I confessed.

Maria's mouth tightened, and she glanced up at the ceiling. A glittering sheen shimmered in her eyes.

"I don't care that you slept with him –"

"Why should you care? My sexual past is none of your business."

"No, it's not. I know that." And I've been telling my brain that since I learned about him.

Maria sniffed before rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "I wish I'd broken it off with him sooner."

My head reared back slightly. "Wait, you broke it off?"

She snorted. "Well, ghosted him is probably more accurate. He was a dick and didn't treat me very well, so I—well, never mind, it's not important."

I shook my head incredulously. I believed her, of course. I should've known that no one in their right mind would willingly end things with Maria. My instincts had been throwing up red flashing alarms all over the place while I listened to that bastard blather about Maria. Something felt off about that smug idiot but I was too blinded by jealousy and pettiness to apply a little discernment.

"What?" She could sense my agitation, and I fought to smooth my expression. I chose not to mention Logan's lie about dumping her, but I also didn't want her to think I was doubting her or judging her.

"Nothing.” My heartbeat galloped as I took a deep breath. "When I was sitting there, listening to him describe his...entanglement with you, I admit I was jealous." Her brows drew together, and her little tongue flicked out to wet her lips.

"And pissed," I reluctantly and quietly finished.

She tilted her head. "Pissed? Why were you..." her voice tapered off as a dark awareness reddened her face. My stomach plummeted. "Because I slept with him," she realized. "And not you." She shook her head, and a crude laugh escaped. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

I winced at her high inflection. There was only one way out of this, and that was the truth. I was well aware that this might be the last grace she would bestow me, so I had to make it count, no matter how much I wanted to dance around the truth tactfully.

"I know! It was stupid. It was an emotion stemming from jealousy and a few too many beers. I know you don't owe me your body, but I admit that a part of me felt slighted."

"You mean your ego was dented?"

"Yeah," I begrudgingly admitted. "He made it clear that your...physical relationship ended a couple of months back. So, yeah, I did think –"

"If she slept with him, why couldn't she sleep with me?" She raised her brow in sardonic loathing.

That part. I took a deep breath. "Yeah." What else could I say? She'd hit the nail on the head.

Maria gave a derisive snort and shook her head incredulously. "It wasn't about you. My celibacy was a personal choice, is a personal choice," she stressed. "One that I did not make lightly but something I chose to do after careful consideration."

"I understand that now. I would love to know the reasons behind that choice, but I know I've probably lost that right."

Her pregnant silence spoke volumes, and I hung my head.

"Maria, when I heard Logan sprout off about being with you, I admit my fragile male ego took a beating. I was jealous that this, this absolute creep , had gotten the privilege to be with you." Now that the dam broke, it was all flooding out of me.

"I thought, 'Maybe she doesn't feel the same way as I feel. Maybe he's the kind of guy she's into, and she was just on the rebound with me but not really into me.'"

She made a small sound of disapproval. "Th-that's so far off the mark, Brian."

"I know," I softly replied. I stepped forward, silently rejoicing that she stayed in place. "Do you know how I know that that was all bullshit?" When she remained quiet, I continued. "Because I remembered."

"Remembered?" She was so close I could see the specks of white within the denim blue of her eyes. I could smell the sweet, intoxicating scent of her perfume.

"Our chemistry."

Her pupils dilated, and a pink flush spread across her high cheeks. She glanced away, taking a step back in the process.

"I know you felt it too, Maria."

I caught a little indignant sniff and eye-roll, but I persisted. "And that kiss we shared." I shook my head. "Do you remember?"

It was a rhetorical question, but I noticed a subtle shift in her demeanor. Her breath hitched, and she started rubbing at her left forearm. Little prickles of bumps appeared on her skin.

"It was fucking fire, babe." I ached to reach out and stroke the smooth expanse of her exposed arms but held myself back. Barely. Talking about that kiss ignited a hunger in me, triggered by the sweet smell of the fragrance she wore on her body and the sight of those pink lips I had the pleasure of plundering; albeit briefly.

"That kind of chemistry, passion, it can't be faked."

She finally gave me her eyes and I almost groaned when she worried her lip with her little white teeth. "Of course, we had chemistry, Brian. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't enjoy the kiss. I'll even admit that I would've followed you home and fucked you that day."

A strangled sound came out of me at that casual remark. She even lifted a shoulder as if she was informing me what she had for breakfast, and not that she would have willingly slept with me given half the chance.

"So why –"

"It wasn't about you ," Maria reiterated.

"Right," I shook the stupidity out of my head. “It wasn't about me. I know." The pieces of the puzzle were starting to click together, although I was a few short of having the full picture. Something had occurred between her time with Logan and me to cause a shift in her thinking. My curiosity was piqued, but I doubt Maria would ever let me close enough again to let it be quenched.

"Is that all you wanted to say to me?" She shifted on her feet impatiently. "Because I need to get back."

"Just a few more minutes, please."

Maria gave a little huff before folding her arms again. "Fine," she mumbled.

A rock lodged in my throat as I thought about the next part of my confession. "Anyway, what I was getting at with Logan. Those feelings of irrational jealousy and anger, they led me to almost do something stupid."

That seemed to tickle Maria's interest. She straightened her shoulders and lifted a quizzical brow. "Oh, yeah? And what was that?" Her voice sounded like honeyed sugar.

Sweet. Inviting. Cajoling.

Yet there was a particular look in her eye.

Calculated. Cold. Knowing.

I was slightly thrown off that I fumbled my delivery. "I, uh, well, you see –" I rubbed at my forehead again, the dull ache growing increasingly severe. "Wh-when I was out, I –"

"You slept with Lissa."

A cold chill went down my spine and I had to work my mouth closed at her startling reveal. Her intonation was bored and flat, her face remaining still. Yet her eyes held a flickering emotion that was suspiciously akin to hurt. My heart took a nosedive to my stomach.

"How did you know?" I said, before the weight of her sentence hit home. "Wait, slept with Lissa?" I held my hands up in frantic denial. "No, I never –"

"I saw you," she accused. "At The Homestead. I was there that night. Lissa was practically on your lap."

"You were there?" Fuck. I ran a shaky hand through my hair. I fucking knew it. That prickle of awareness at the back of my neck hadn't been a coincidence. I knew she was near me. I could sense her.

"Nothing happened," I implored. I spread my hands, willing her to believe me. I quickly scanned through the details of that night: Lissa's hand on my thigh, whispers of dirty promises in my ear, and my stumbling out of the bar with my arm wrapped around her.

Fuck!

Before I could enquire how much she saw, Maria lifted her chin and said, "I saw you leave with her. You were practically one person. So don't lie and say you never went home with her."

Fuck my life. Of course, I couldn't deny her latter statement. I did go home with Lissa.

"Yes, I went home with her." She snorted, and I heard what suspiciously sounded like “fucking liar.”

I took a step closer, my throat closing over to plead my case. "Some things happened," I admitted. "We kissed. But I swear, I didn't sleep with her."

She made another disbelieving noise and rolled her eyes. She glanced away, her throat bobbing. A tenderness washed over me. I wished I could take her into my arms to bat her insecurities away.

"It's true," I insisted. "I didn't sleep with her –"

"Liar," she spat out.

"I didn't sleep with her because I knew I would lose any chance to be with you," I injected in a hurried flash before she could try and discredit me again.

Maria's face blanched, and her hands dropped to her sides. "What are you talking about?"

I blew out my breath, my emotions at a boiling point. "I met Lissa at a bar she was working at the same night I met Logan," I explained. "I'd never met her before, and apart from some flirting, nothing happened that night." Her mouth pinched, but she otherwise remained silent. "That night you saw us at The Homestead was the second time I'd met her."

"That must've been some heavy flirting you did with her." She checked the wall clock behind me and glanced outside. I was losing her.

"I did go to Lissa's apartment. I had every intention of sleeping with her." Her face betrayed no emotion except that bobbing in her throat again. "But I called a halt to everything when I saw a picture of you."

Her head jerked back, and her brows drew center in bewilderment. "Huh?"

I shuffled forward now that I knew I had her attention again. "I know you and Lissa are friends. Or were friends," I amended when I remembered Lissa's sardonic face when she discovered my connection with Maria. "She had a picture of you two on her mantel. You were in cheerleading outfits, and the frame had the words –"

"Best friends forever," Maria finished woodenly. Her face carried an unreadable expression, and she resumed clutching her arms. Closed off.

"Yeah. As soon as I saw that photo, it was like a bomb went off in my head. I already knew I made a huge mistake in letting you go without giving us a proper shot. I also knew my chances of you dating me again were slim."

I moved closer to her until she had no choice but to look at me. Her expression was guarded, but there was a questioning look in her eyes. "But I also knew that if I went there with Lissa, any slight chance I had with you would be minus zero."

Her eyes widened slightly before her arms again dropped to her sides. "Brian..." She searched my face as I swallowed uncomfortably. A heavy ache sat in my stomach as I waited for the impact of my words to sink in. I wasn't betting on a positive response from her, but at least she wasn't making derisive noises every time I spoke.

I seemed to have rendered her speechless. I hoped she could read the sincerity in my voice, in my expression.

"Brian." She licked her lips as her eyes held mine. Her voice lost its defensive edge. "Look, I appreciate what you've told me. What you did and didn't do with Lissa is none of my business."

She didn't clarify whether she believed my words about not sleeping with Lissa, but given the gentler tone she now carried, I assumed she did.

"She and I aren't friends anymore, so even if things went further with her, it wouldn't have mattered to me." Her eyes left mine to drift around my sparse office.

It would've mattered.

I was relieved, yet I braced myself for what I sensed was an upcoming negative response.

"But the truth is," she continued as my shoulders deflated. There it was. "If I were to date you again, you have one glaring issue."

I frowned. "What's that?"

"You're a widower.”

My breath sucked in, and it was my turn to step back in shock. Surely she wouldn't hold that against me?

"You loved your wife, and that's a beautiful thing—truly. But I don't think you've properly dealt with the grief associated with that—certainly not enough to start seriously dating someone."

I could feel my cheeks redden as my heart picked up speed. "Maria –"

She held up a hand. "Please, let me finish. I gave you the floor to say your piece; now I need to say mine."

My mouth snapped shut, and I nodded my consent even though my body wanted to rail against her words and shut the conversation down.

"I did really like you, Brian. A lot. More than I'd ever liked a guy. But how you treated me at Da Vinci's was not cool. It was downright disrespectful and after everything I told you prior about wanting a relationship, it really hurt."

I ground my teeth to keep from interrupting. Her words filled me with shame, but I kept my composure neutral. She needed to get this out, and I had to finally respect her wishes.

"I understand that there’s a lot of emotion attached to the loss of a loved one, and I'm not upset that you're not ready to date me; I'm just pissed at how you went about it."

She licked her lips and took a breath before continuing. "Brian, I get that you want to try again, but the truth is, I have a lot of issues that I'm working through myself. I'm sympathetic to what you're going through and so I don't want to come across as callous when I say this, but I can't take on your issues as well."

Ouch. I flinched as if she reached out and slapped me. She tried to say it in the most diplomatic way possible, but Maria, being Maria, I knew she also intended to be blunt. Not to be cruel, but so in a way that there was no mistaking her intent behind the message: she didn't want to date me because she assumed I was not over Hannah. And I couldn't really blame her for that assessment.

What Maria didn't know was—my stupidity at Da Vinci's aside—she was the first person post-Hannah who made me feel . More than the physical touch I craved to cure a widower's loneliness, Maria restored me just by being in her orbit.

"My late wife won't be an issue."

Her look was laced with pity. "If we start dating again without you addressing what you told me at Da Vinci's, then you are making it my issue. How do I know that something I say or do won't trigger a memory about her? That you won't start feeling guilty again and pull away?"

She took a step closer, and to my surprise, she reached out and grasped my hand. It felt warm, soft, and tiny in mine. I latched onto it despite the widening pit of dread and discomfort building in my stomach.

"As someone who is seeking help, I urge you to consider talking to someone about your grief before you're ready to start dating seriously."

Her words went in one ear and out the other as the finality of her statement sunk in. "Maria...," I implored, but I didn't know what to say.

She squeezed my hand. It felt clammy in hers. "Thank you for the flowers, but I can't accept them. Please don't send me any more stuff."

Then, to soften the blow, she lifted herself on her toes and pressed a kiss against my scruffy cheek. I resisted the urge to touch the burning spot. "You take care of yourself, Brian," she murmured. With one last look, she strolled to the open doorway and disappeared down the steps.

As if she was tethered to me, I followed her, only stopping at the door to watch her walk away, unsure if it would be the last time but praying it wasn't.

My men were gathered in a semi-circle a few feet away, their heads following her movements. Maria continued to walk with her head held high, uncaring that she had an enraptured audience.

I watched until her little car disappeared around the corner to join the traffic before reluctantly trudging inside, making sure to close my door so no unwanted nosey workers disrupted the peace I craved.

That didn't exactly go as planned, but it did go in a direction I hadn't expected. Maria bringing up Hannah floored me.

Six months after Hannah died, Diane offered me a number for grief services she’d found helpful after her husband's death. One she was utilizing again after losing Hannah. Therapy made me uncomfortable, especially since, by then, I’d already pivoted in a literal physical direction to deal with my loss. And it had worked. Until it didn't.

I didn't want to lose Maria. We had something special. Special enough that it could lead to something wonderful. Going by her words today, I was relieved she felt it too. Or had felt it.

But I couldn't discount what Maria had said. On lonely nights when the memories became too much, I’d wallow in Hannah's unseen presence. Sometimes, I would take out the letters Sarah left behind and peruse their contents, tracing over Hannah's delicate penmanship. As strong as I felt my feelings were for Maria, I couldn't guarantee that Hannah's death wouldn't overwhelm me at times.

If we start dating again without you addressing what you told me at Da Vinci's, then you are making it my issue.

I took my phone out and hit Diane's number.

"Hi, sweetie. How are you?"

"Hey, Di. I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"

"Oh, just fine. Did the boys get the orange chocolate chip loaf? Remember, it's for you all to share," she teasingly chastised.

I snorted. "It was inhaled within thirty minutes. I barely got a crumb. You spoil them too much."

"Nonsense!" she admonished.

"Listen, are you free tomorrow for dinner? I need to talk to you about something. Just you and me."

"Oh!" She paused at my request. I felt terrible excluding Sarah, but I wanted to keep what I needed to say between Diane and me. Sarah wouldn't understand.

"Of course you can." I was relieved she didn't press me with questions. "Come over anytime after six. I'll make your fav."

My hand tightened on the phone as a nervous drop hit the center of my chest. "Thanks, Di."