CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I T WASN’T EASY , or grand, or beautiful or dramatic—it was none of the things that’d had his imagination in a choke hold since he’d heard her voice. As he walked through the door into the dim coolness of the near-empty restaurant, Valentina stood. He tucked his hands deep inside his pockets and slowed his walk so he could better take her in.
She was a little thinner in the face. She wore a sundress the color of buttermilk that glowed against the rich brown of her skin, and she was wringing her hands. She didn’t say a word. And when he reached her and peered down into her face, when he saw the expression there and the way her pulse hammered in her throat, not to mention her eyes, and how they—
She crossed her arms. She was wary. Watchful.
“What are you doing here, Desmond?” she asked.
He’d thought he was ready for this question; ready to articulate what was in his heart. He’d practiced on the plane, for goodness’ sake. But when she looked at him, all he managed to get out was, “I wanted to see how you were.”
Disbelief crossed her face. “I’m fine.”
“Have you…found a place? Are you settled here? Are you—?”
“Desmond,” she cut in tightly. “I’m touched that you came all this way to check on me, but I don’t think it’s good for either of us to—”
Damn, he was handling this badly!
“Fine, I lied. I’m not here to check on you. I needed to explain why I did what I did. I didn’t have the words then, but now—” He stopped and collected himself.
Valentina was staring at him. Her arms were still crossed protectively across her front, but at least the anger had left her face.
It was time. If he couldn’t speak now then he never would. She was worth it. He began to speak quietly, so quietly and hesitantly that he barely recognized his own voice.
“I’m not good enough for you,” he said.
Something in her face shifted, something subtle.
“I don’t know if I can…be with you without hurting you,” he continued. “There’s just so much that’s messed up about me, Valentina. I don’t know if I have the strength to work past it, or be what anyone needs. I know I don’t deserve you. And you—”
“You always do this.” Valentina shook her head, her face sad. “My ex-husband criticized me because I was never good enough, and now you’re abandoning me because you think you’re not good enough? You don’t get to decide that, Desmond. Just like you shouldn’t have paid off my debt without telling me. You claim you’re doing things for my benefit, but you’re giving me no say. That’s not fair , Desmond.”
Her eyes had begun to glimmer.
“You’re such a good man, Desmond,” she said. “Malik wasn’t. But you do actually have something in common.”
He stiffened, and she smiled a little.
“You’re incredibly proud people. It just manifests differently. And love, love works because it kills pride, every day. It means you’re naked to each other, every single time. You have to be brave enough to be vulnerable, and you can’t do that.” She chewed her lip for a moment and then looked intently up into his face. “You denied us the possibilities we could have had.”
Desmond clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Those soft-spoken words pierced him more effectively than the slimmest needle; he could feel them burrowing beneath his skin, threatening to break it open. And it must have shown on his face because she reached out and placed a hand on his chest.
“You’ve told me everything about yourself except what’s in here,” she said, and his insides contracted so painfully he had to turn his head away for a long moment.
“Desmond?”
Run! his senses commanded. And he could have; it would have been so easy. He’d get back on his jet and run for his life—the life he’d carefully curated for himself. But instead, he set his jaw and stayed.
Things had to change at some point. It had to be now or he’d lose this magnificent woman for good. So he’d do this, even though he felt physically ill, and his chest was tightening painfully.
“I wanted to protect you,” he said after a long moment.
“You wanted to protect yourself,” she corrected, and dropped her hand. She looked wan suddenly, as if the direction the conversation had gone had taken every last bit of energy from her. “I wasted years of my life with a man who hid so much from me, Desmond. I can’t repeat that—I won’t —no matter how well-intentioned it is.”
They stood in silence for a long moment, her words echoing in his head.
You’ve told me everything about yourself except what’s in here.
She was right, wasn’t she? He’d given her everything but what had mattered the most. And he’d hurt her in the process.
He raked a hand over his head, disturbing the curls that had gotten much longer in the days they’d been apart. “Will you sit with me for a while? Please, Valentina.”
* * *
Valentina was sure he could hear her heart thudding in her chest because it was echoing so loudly in her own ears. Desmond sat across from her, looking wearier than she’d ever seen him, but there was something in his expression that was new.
He’s softer.
He smiled at her a little. “Is this the place with the lobster pot pies?”
The corners of her mouth tugged upward. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything you’ve ever told me.” A waiter materialized out of the shadows, seeing a break in the intensity of the conversation, and Valentina ordered two of the pies. Desmond added a bottle of white wine.
When she frowned at the extravagance he smiled and said, “I’ve missed that look.”
“I’m sure you have.”
It was surely too late to pretend that she didn’t want him, that her heart didn’t ache for him, and he wouldn’t have flown all the way over here unless he felt something for her, too. The way he looked at her, as if she were something to treasure… The near-reverent way he touched her, even on that first heated night when they were strangers…
Desmond’s fingers crept across the table as if to brush hers, but stopped short.
“Everything you’ve said is true,” he said.
She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“I am too proud,” he added. “I didn’t give you a say. I’m sorry, Valentina. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you, or to remind you of Malik. I should have talked to you and given you a choice so you could decide what you wanted for yourself.”
She closed her eyes briefly. She was tired of thinking about Malik. He was in the past, and she only wanted to think about Desmond now.
“Valentina, I love you.”
He said it so simply and without fanfare that at first she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Her eyes flew open. His face was sober, but the intensity in his dark eyes stole her breath away.
“Desmond…”
“Do you really think it’s so impossible?” He shook his head. “We fit , Valentina. I don’t know if you feel the same, but I know I love you. I’m also a messed-up man from a messed-up family situation and I never want you to regret me. But you’re right. I don’t get to decide that. And I’m sorry.”
He loved her He loved her, and he’d come for her.
“Valentina?”
There was a lump in her throat so large it hurt. “I’m just…processing.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of a fragrant basket of bread with parsley-studded honey butter, and wine so cold the condensation slid down the side of the glass. The server decanted for both of them, then left.
Desmond picked up one of the heavy ceramic plates and scooped out a large spoonful. It was just as Valentina remembered—golden-brown pastry, rich, creamy gravy, and tender bites of sweet lobster. Her stomach growled in anticipation, but she couldn’t put a bite in her mouth. Not yet.
“Desmond?” she said, and her voice came out so quiet she wasn’t sure he’d hear, but she was powerless to do more in that moment.
“Yes?”
“I’m not sure what we can be,” she admitted. “It’s so strange, things being different now. But I do know that I’d like to try. With you. If that’s…”
Brightness flashed across his face, transforming it completely although his expression changed little. “Valentina!”
“It was such a whirlwind, the first time,” she said. “I barely had time to register what was happening before I was married and gone. But this time, I want to do it right. We’ll date—” the term sounded laughably backward and she winced even as it came out of her mouth “—and spend time together. I’m trying to repair my relationship with my mum, and possibly my stepfather, and that’ll take time. And you…”
“I’m working on things. Talking to someone.” He looked so uncertain—more uncertain than she’d ever seen him before. “I…contacted one of my uncles, as well, and we’ve been talking.”
“Desmond, that’s wonderful.”
“It’s strange as hell.” He lifted his brows. “I’ll tell you more. But later.”
She nodded and her next breath shuddered through her whole body; the tension was leaching out, a little at a time.
Desmond Tesfay was in love with her.
“I love you, too,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
* * *
They ate magnificently. They talked. They laughed. They shared.
For the first time, without any reservations or awkwardness.
And for the first time in nearly ten years, Desmond Tesfay felt at peace.
When they emerged from the restaurant the sun was setting in a soft mosaic of purples and grays and oranges, and the air had cooled.
“We should get back, before the mosquitos eat us alive,” Valentina murmured.
He nodded. “My hotel isn’t far from here.”
She hesitated, just for a moment. “You could…come home with me, Desmond. It isn’t far, and I’d love you to meet my mother.”
“I’d like that.”
She stood on her toes and tipped her face back, offering herself freely. All thought ceased; he bent lower, hovered over her upturned face for just a moment, and kissed her.
It felt so different this time. He still wanted her just as much as he ever had, but it was without the desperation of trying to hold on to something that constantly slipped through his fingers like sand. He’d never felt so free to kiss her with such tenderness, to take his time, to show her his whole self without fear of judgment.
And when she put her arms round his neck and tucked her face into the nook where his neck met his shoulder, he knew that time no longer mattered, not for them.
* * * * *