“Hey, Addy.”
I looked over from the kitchen. “What?”
He lounged on the couch in his boxers with a newspaper opened on his lap. Frankie ran to him, wagging his tail, and Liam’s free hand petted him. “What’s an eleven-letter word for requiem?”
“Are you joking? How am I supposed to know that?”
“Wait. Lamentation!” He gestured to his laptop. “The good ol’ world wide web.”
Then everything switched, and he gazed at me, somber all of the sudden. “You know,” he said, “we don’t talk about that stuff, but I don’t want you to do that for me.”
My stomach got a funny feeling. “I don’t like where this is going. You want pizza tonight?” I picked up the phone. “I’ll order it.”
“I mean it. If something happens to me, don’t waste your life. I mean, yeah, be sad. Be really sad. Look at me.” He gestured to himself. “I’m a fine piece of ass. I’d mourn myself, too, but after a while, move on, okay? Promise me. Don’t feel guilty about being happy, even after I’m gone.”
My mouth went dry. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Promise.”
“Okay.” I rolled my eyes. “I promise.”
“He knew,” I said, remembering.
“What?” Cole asked.
But I spoke to myself. “He knew something was going to happen. He was trying to tell me.” I felt the same funny feeling in my stomach. “Two days before he died, he knew something was going to happen.”
Cole stepped close.
I closed my eyes, feeling his warmth so near. I could turn and bury my head in his shoulder. He could hold me. He could make me forget everything, which is what he’d been doing. I’d forgotten about the reality of this life, of the mafia. I’d lost one love already. I couldn’t lose another one. I couldn’t lose Cole. I’d never survive.
I looked at him. I really looked at him.
He could be killed right in front of my eyes. It could all happen again. I should say no. I should walk away. I should leave, never see him again. I could do it. I could do all of that, though it would leave half of me bleeding on the ground right now.
I couldn’t.
The truth resonated inside of me. It’d been four months. Four months of me believing he’d killed Liam. Four months of trying to let him to go, knowing I should hate him, that I should never want to see him again.
Four months of hell.
Four months of aching, because I couldn’t do any of those things. I only missed him. I only loved him, and right now, as I stared at him, studying him, I knew what I was signing up for.
I opened my mouth, ready to share everything I’d just been thinking, when his words halted my own.
“I live in a building with other residents. Carter thinks I’m stupid. Yes, I’m in the mafia. Yes, you were pulled into this even before I came into your life. Yes, I can imagine that this is all a horrible story. But it’s not a mafia story. It’s a love story, and it’s one that you should want a quick exit out of, but hear me out.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Please.”
He didn’t have to ask. I was already listening, and I knew I was looking at him with so much love. It must’ve been shining from me. How could he not see?
He started again, taking a step closer. His voice was so soft. “I live in a building with other residents because I used to live in a barn.” He wasn’t looking at me, like he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Like he was ashamed. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m the head of a mafia family, and I don’t ever want to be alone.”
“Cole—”
He raised his voice, but he still didn’t look at me. “It’s why I have people living there. It’s why I liked to go to your place, not mine. It was never about not wanting you at my place or having it be a secret or anything. I lost everyone in my life. I lost Carter, too. It was just me for a long while. Me and—” He gestured to the barn behind us. “—horses. That’s who I lived with. I didn’t let myself love the family that helped me. I wouldn’t because I knew one day someone would come to kill them. I knew every person in my life would eventually die. And they did. I lost three good friends. I have lost a shit ton of people, Addison.”
He was right in front of me now. Living. Breathing. He was so warm. He looked at me then, and instantly I felt the difference, like he gave me oxygen. He touched my hands, interlocking my fingers with his. I felt the heat emanating from him. It was wrapping me in a safe shelter, pulling me in, tempting me. I leaned toward him.
“I’ll always lose people. That’s the life I live.”
I bit down on my lip. It was all I could do to keep from wrapping my arms around him, pulling him to me, sinking my fingers into his shoulders, holding him close…
…never letting him go.
“So I won’t.”
My eyelids flew up. “What?”
“I won’t ask you to come back. I shouldn’t have come.”
“What?” I had to ask again. This wasn’t what I wanted.
“I’m letting you go.”
He held my hand and pressed his lips to my forehead. It was a farewell kiss. He was pulling away.
“Goodbye, Addison.”
“Cole,” I started. If anything happened to him…
He turned to go, but I grabbed his arm.
Images flashed in my mind. When he walked into Gianni’s.
The elevator.
The running track.
Our first night. Our second night, when he stepped off that elevator and held me.
The fundraiser night, when everyone was staring at Cole, who was staring at me.
When he came to me that night.
When he left to protect me at the horse ranch.
When I drove him home.
And the last time, as I was strapped in that bed. The gunfire, and then he’d opened the door. He’d saved me. I remembered his words, “I love you.”
“You told me you loved me,” I blurted.
“What?”
“When you saved me. I heard what you said to me.” I let go of his arm and touched where his lips had been. My fingers lingered there. “You told me you loved me.” I made sure to look right into him. I wanted him to know the truth, my truth. “I love you, too.”
His mouth twisted, looking pained. “Addison.”
I grabbed his shirt. “I love you.”
“No, Addison. I’m letting you go. I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m in the mafia. That’ll never change.”
It didn’t matter. I shook my head. “I’m standing here, and I’m staring at you, and I’m thinking all of those same thoughts. He’s in the mafia. He’s dangerous. He could die. I could see him die.” I dipped my head, but I kept looking at him, holding his gaze. He needed to see that I meant every single word. “I could see you die. All over again. The same nightmare. But it doesn’t matter. That’s the truth that keeps hitting me. It. Doesn’t. Matter. My heart might still be pounding. I might still be walking, talking, breathing when I’m away from you, but I’m not living. That’s what I’ve realized these last four months. I could wait another three, another six. It doesn’t matter, because it’s you. I’m choosing you, just like I chose you the night we were attacked.” The words wrung from me. “I choose you.”
He paused, looking right back into me, and I saw the wall lift. It was staggering. The relief. The sadness. The hope. He was like me, struggling to do the right thing, to walk away, but we were wrong. To stay—that was the right thing.
He crushed me to him. His mouth on mine, once again, where it was supposed to have been this whole time. I felt his desperation, still as hungry as I was.
He murmured, his words a caress against my skin, “Thank God.”
Then he kissed me, and I hoped he’d never stop.