Chapter Forty-two #2
Everything after my self-care session earlier went by in a daze. I had woken up completely naked and quickly went to shower, trying to clear my head. Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was eleven o’clock at night. The apartment was dark, and I could tell Inaya was asleep.
I put some milk to boil and sat by the window, aimlessly scrolling through my phone. Suddenly, it buzzed with a notification from Ronan.
RR
Hey. Are you awake?
Me
I am. Is everything okay?
RR
Come outside
Was he drunk?
Me
Huh?
RR
Look through the blinds.
I stepped onto the balcony, shivering as the cool night breeze kissed my skin. Below, Ronan stood in his scrubs, exhaustion etched into his features, but his smile sent warmth through me.
I quickly texted back—Be there in a sec—then tugged on my pajama pants and robe, my heart pounding as I rushed downstairs.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, still breathless.
He looked up, eyes heavy with fatigue. “Had a late shift, started driving… and somehow, I ended up here.”
A soft smile tugged at my lips. “Somehow, huh?”
His wrinkled scrubs and dark circles told one story, but the way he looked at me told another—one of longing, of inevitability.
“Life always leads me back to you, Nina,” he whispered, and a storm of butterflies erupted in my chest.
“Hop in,” he urged, nodding toward his Jeep.
“Now?” I raised a brow.
“Only for a little while. I promise.”
His grin was playful, but the sincerity in his eyes made it impossible to say no.
I grabbed my slippers, letting my robe fall away as I slid into the passenger seat.
“I expected more of a fight,” he teased.
“Not tonight, Ronan.” I smiled despite myself.
The moment I settled into the seat, his scent closed around me, warm and achingly familiar. It settled low in my chest and stayed there.
We drove in silence, the night pressing against the windows, heavy with everything we refused to say.
When we pulled up beside the High Line, I lifted a brow. “A late-night park stroll? You should have warned me so I could bring snacks.”
He opened my door, his hand warm against my skin. “Not for eating. For talking. It’s quiet up here at night. Lucio and I used to come here when the world got too loud, but we’re too busy for that now.”
We walked along the empty path, city lights glinting off steel rails while the distant hum of traffic softened into something almost gentle. I glanced at him, the moonlight tracing the exhaustion in his face, the softness in his eyes making my chest tighten.
“This is beautiful,” I murmured.
“My view is better.”
I turned, expecting the skyline, only to find his gaze fixed on me, dark and intent.
“Always the smooth one,” I said, heat creeping into my cheeks.
“Only for you, tesoro.”
“Hopefully.”
“Definitely.” His tone left no room for doubt. “So talk to me. Five years. What did I miss?”
“What don’t you know?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know. I want it from you.”
I huffed a soft laugh. “You want the crash course?”
“I want every version you’re willing to tell.”
I took a breath. “After we broke up, I fell apart for a while, then I pulled myself together. I had to pull myself together. Fashion school, full scholarship, top of my class, and working jobs through it all for some extra money. I apprenticed while I studied. Then came the boutique. Then the expansion. A lot of work, a lot of nights wondering if I was crazy for trying.”
He listened like every word mattered, like every part of me still did. The ache of the past loosened its grip, just a little.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For leaving. For everything.”
I rested my hand on his thigh. “We can’t fix what’s gone. We’re going forward, Romano. Now it’s your turn to give me a crash course.”
He exhaled. “I started therapy to get better for you, but mostly for myself. I do therapy once a month now. That is progress, considering there was a time I needed it three times a week. I finished school without taking a single semester off. No breaks. No vacations. I completed my residency and fellowship early. Grieving was not easy, but I did not have the luxury of falling apart. Life was not waiting for me, and I couldn’t let everything my parents worked for slip through my hands.
I saved a hospital from bankruptcy and made it my own.
I built something real. Something that will outlive me. ”
I squeezed his knee. “They’d be proud of you.”
His eyes softened, and for a moment, the city felt very far away.
His throat bobbed. “Who?”
“Your family. They would be so proud of you.”
“I hope so,” he murmured, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. “God, I hope so.”
“I know Lucio and the guys are proud of you,” I said gently.
A small smile tugged at his lips, the tightness in his shoulders easing like he had finally let himself breathe.
“Anything else I missed?” I asked softly, sensing he was still holding something back.
He shook his head. “Everything else about me is public knowledge. Same hobbies. Same friends. Same headlines.” Then his gaze shifted back to me, warm and searching. “What about you?”
“I’m stronger,” I said simply.
He smiled, slow and tender. “I know. I always knew you would be. I’ve always loved that about you.”
“Loved?” I teased. “Grumpy and sassy?”
“Fearless,” he corrected. “Resilient. You walk into rooms like you belong there, even when the world is trying to tell you you don’t.” His voice softened. “You’ve always been extraordinary, Nina.”
“Credit has to be earned.”
“And you earned every bit of it.” His words came out steady but full of feeling.
“Your fashion show had the biggest buzz of the season. You became the youngest designer to debut a show, land Vogue, and sign with Eminence all within months. You’re building a brand, a future, and your wealth.
You took nothing and turned it into something beautiful.
” He leaned a little closer. “You deserve all your flowers. If you won’t give them to yourself, I’ll give them to you. ”
My eyes burned, tears threatening. He lifted his hand, brushing one away with his thumb like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You mean that?” I whispered.
“Every word.”
Something in my chest cracked open.
We kept talking, softer now. He told me about a patient who reminded him of his mother, about the way grief still snuck up on him when he least expected it. I told him about the way impostor syndrome whispered I didn’t belong, even when the whole world was finally looking at me.
It wasn’t just conversation. It felt like we were stitching something back together.
Up here above the city, with the lights glowing like constellations beneath us, everything felt strangely right.
“Hungry?” he asked after a while, that familiar crooked grin making an appearance. “How do you feel about a burger?”
My stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. I laughed. “It’s late.”
“I know a place.”
Minutes later, we were in a cozy diner, warm and bright against the cold night. The smell of grilled burgers wrapped around us, comforting and familiar. Ronan stepped up to the counter and ordered without hesitation, reciting my exact order like it was engraved into his soul.
I blinked at him. “You remember my order.”
He looked back at me, eyes soft and steady. “I was hoping it didn’t change.”
We sat together with our food, knees brushing, laughter slipping easily between us. Outside, New York pulsed with life, but in that little booth, it felt like we were finding our way back to something that had never disappeared.
Later, as Ronan drove me back, the city lights blurred into a river of color against the dark sky. The streets were quiet, leaving us in a silence full of everything we hadn’t said, a wordless acknowledgment of the tension and history between us.
Stopping in front of the villa, he turned to me, his gaze soft and unreadable.
“Thank you for tonight,” he murmured, his voice warm enough to sink into my chest.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, leaning in almost instinctively. My lips brushed his cheek, brief but loaded with meaning, a quiet surrender to feelings I had never let die.
“Goodnight, Ronan,” I whispered, each word heavy with everything unsaid.
“Goodnight, Nina,” he replied, his fingers brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sent a shiver racing through me, awakening a desire I had tried to bury for years.
Watching him walk away, a storm of longing, hope, and unspoken desire twisted inside me.
We had that reckless, wild young love, the kind that made you feel invincible and left you raw. The kind that tore you open and left scars you never forgot. If I jumped, he would be there, steady, holding my hand as we soared together.
I could lie to myself until my voice went hoarse and my heart turned cold, but the truth was clear: there was no escaping Ronan Romano.
He was part of me, entwined with my soul, and the harder I tried to convince myself I didn’t need him, the more I realized I didn’t want to be free.
I wanted him. I’ve always wanted him.
His presence was a bittersweet addiction and a reminder that some loves linger, no matter how much they hurt.
The night air was cool on my skin, but inside, my heart burned with a warmth only Ronan could ignite.