Monday, February 13
When Angelica opened the door to his knock, Garrett took her in breathlessly.
A flush spread across his face, and his heart raced as if he were nearing the finish line of a marathon.
Although she was as beautiful as ever, the pixie, who didn’t weigh much to begin with, appeared even thinner. It showed in her face.
“Come on in, Garrett,” she said.
Overlooking her weight loss, Angelica seemed different. With his usual lousy instincts around women, he decided she was distant, guarded, and nervous. She didn’t resemble the witty barmaid who had invited him back for a Coors and some banter long ago.
Despite the chilly reception, he stepped into a cozy scene, where the toasty blaze in the fireplace performed a recap of the dance of the sizzling embers.
Angelica took her favorite spot on the couch, fidgeting with her hands.
Feeling as if he had landed back on the first rung of the ladder, Garrett chose the chair by the fire, the sole source of warmth radiating in the room.
They were just two people sitting on opposite sides of the room, staring at each other from different time zones.
An awkward void in the conversation prompted Garrett to try—Pleasantries 101. “You look wonderful, Angelica. How are you doing?”
She shrugged. Angelica shrugged a lot. “I’m hanging in there, thanks. How about you, Garrett?”
“Same old, same old,” he said, clearing his throat and wondering whether she even wanted him there. “So, where did you go?”
“I went to the UK and the European Union. Have you ever been across the pond?”
Stick to the basics, Garrett told himself. Don’t say the wrong thing. Hell, he didn’t even know what the right thing was. “No, never have,” he muttered.
“It was freezing, but incredible. The paintings at the Louvre are magnificent.” Angelica tucked her leg under her. “I should have gone sooner ... Scottish castles, London, Rome, Paris ... You can’t see all the historic sites in a lifetime. I want to go back,” she gushed.
Angelica acted more excited about her world travels than about his presence. He just slipped from the bottom rung to the ground. Maybe to the curb. Or to the burning trash heaps of Gehenna.
Tormented and conflicted, Garrett realized the sparks from the cinders, wild and intense, were the only flickers in the room. His heart ached for the woman who had unknowingly shattered it.
Angelica rambled on about a mix-up at a hotel, an Uber ride that got two flat tires on the way to Versailles, a misplaced credit card, and her beloved cat.
“Daisy didn’t want to come home from her winter vacation camp. Leah’s children asked if they could keep her and offered to get me a replacement cat. I suggested getting them a kitten and bringing my fur baby home. Everyone agreed. We’re visiting the animal shelter on Saturday. A simple solution.”
Cats! Garrett wanted to talk about felines as much as he wanted to talk about his erupting headache. His eyes swept the living room. No Daisy. “Where’s the ransomed cat, anyway?”
“She’s somewhere around here, sleeping from exhaustion.” Angelica shrugged again. “Would you like some coffee? I don’t have any more beer.”
He might have chugged it all. Where’s a cold alcoholic brew when you need it most? “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
Garrett felt even more crushed as he listened to her idle chatter.
Did she mean this to be a friendly fireside chat?
He didn’t want a friend or a chat; he wanted a wife.
Angelica was a wife, all right, just not his.
Nothing had changed. She’d continue being Mrs. Ponte, making new memories in another man’s arms. He’d go on, meaning nothing to anyone.
No change for him either. Why did he think otherwise?
Hope! The dreams of the hopeful are delusions of the unwise.
“I really want to thank you for everything you did for me, Garrett. You got more than you bargained for when you offered to help. I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice, brushing lint or cat hair off her jeans.
Did it matter? He’d have done anything for Angelica and given her the world if it had been attainable. With his heart torn from his chest and dying minute by minute, Garrett couldn’t take it anymore.
He gripped the armrest of the chair and asked, on a distressed sigh, “What do you want from me, Angelica? Why am I here?”
Angelica sat back, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
Garrett did the same for what felt like the longest moments of his life.
This was torturous; it reminded him of when he walked out the door on New Year’s Day.
That day may have been terrible, but this one was ghastlier.
Today would be the very last time he saw Angelica.
Some things, like heartbreak, don’t need an encore.
With all those dreadful thoughts sprinting through his mind, when he least expected it, Angelica murmured, “I want you to be my comforter and my healer. That’s pointless because …”
The “because” echoed off the walls. It paused time as it hung, heavy in the air like an imposing shadow, as he clung to her every word and shifted to the edge of his seat. How could a common, everyday, seven-letter word control or alter his life? Be the beginning or the end.
Even though no one was breathing, oxygen was being sucked out of the room.
Angelica broke the quiet, whispering, “Because …”
Here we go again with the damn “because.” This word should be banished from every dictionary. It wounds, has the power to destroy, and crucifies.
She let out a weary sigh. A stray teardrop slid down her cheek, then lost momentum and stopped halfway. Angelica whispered once more, her voice trembling, “Because … we don’t feel the same way about each other.”
Garrett freed his long-held breath. “I don’t know how you feel about me, but I love you, sweetheart.”
He said it—what he should have said months ago. What difference would it make now? It was too late.
Angelica’s wide eyes widened even more, and another tear mingled with the first.
For a guy who didn’t want to say the wrong thing, he was striking out. “I’m not going to apologize for loving you. I didn’t plan on it, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat and do it better next time,” Garrett confessed.
Sniffling, Angelica softly reflected, “Garrett, I thought you were just my friend. I didn’t expect you to fall in love with me. I’m not even ordinary. I’m plain, covered in scars, and—”
“Don’t demean yourself, honey,” he said, cutting her off.
“I’ve seen every inch of your body, and I don’t see any scars.
I see the gorgeous woman I madly love, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
You’re sweet, kind, and a talented artist with a great sense of humor.
You have so much to flaunt and be proud of, yet you’re the humblest woman I’ve ever met and way too good for me.
“If you want to talk about scars, let me tell you about my battle scars.” Garrett swallowed and, well, hell, he divulged everything.
“I was critically injured after marrying a woman I never should have gotten involved with in the first place. Too proud to seek professional help for my depressed, wounded soul, I spent three years drinking myself into oblivion and an early grave. I’m a scarred, broken homicide detective who hates his job and hasn’t done anything about it. That’s why I keep guzzling beer.
“You asked me how I got over my wife. You were the woman I met who changed everything, Angelica. You were my precious cure. I’ll never regret falling for you,” he insisted.
Where had she been? How had she missed all of this? The unpretentious man, the uncomplaining guy sleeping on her couch, holding her as she slept, repairing her door, brewing coffee, and armed in more than one way to fight demons in her bedroom.
Angelica invited Garrett over tonight with one goal—to ask her “friend” out for drinks and dinner.
She didn’t think he’d accept, since he’d mentioned there was another woman.
Having nothing, she had nothing to lose and planned to give it her best shot.
She never imagined herself becoming the “other woman” in a slander-free way.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Garrett?”
“The timing never was right.” He cracked his knuckles.
Timing? Life is all about timing, isn’t it? The right place at the wrong time—stepping into the street as a truck approached, the safe open when she walked into Nicholas’s bedroom, or meeting a homicide detective while on a date with someone else.
“I love you, too,” Angelica murmured, her fingertips brushing away the glistening tears.
Oh, crap! Timing! His couldn’t be worse.
He just dumped all his dirty laundry on the table in front of the woman who loves him.
Now what? Does Angelica want to stay married to Ponte?
Not part with the tycoon’s money. Is she seeking an extramarital relationship?
Is she going to toss him out on his ass?
All those dreadful scenarios flooded his mind. He didn’t know anything and wouldn’t find the answers unless he asked her. Angelica didn’t reveal her intentions or the full story. How could he ask without insulting her? This felt like a slow death. Garrett needed a six-pack of Coors.
“What are you telling me?” he asked, before dropping the loaded questions. “Are you looking to have an affair? Do you want more, Angelica? Or do you want me to leave based on the obvious complications?”
Angelica hopped off the sofa, scooted around the coffee table, and marched over to him in her bravest attempt not to limp. She planted her hands on her hips.
“What am I going to do with you, Garrett? Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
Yep, he insulted her. Garrett slid so far back into the chair that he thought it might gobble him up whole. He fiddled with the open collar of his shirt.
“I heard every word you said. It’s what you didn’t say that I didn’t hear.”
“What are you talking about? What didn’t I say?” Angelica snapped.