Chapter Thirty-One
The raspberry pie was supposed to be the best in the city, according to Micah, but it tasted like sand in Darcy’s dry mouth.
She sat on a red vinyl bar stool at the counter that held no other occupants. Behind her, there was a long line of booths done up with the same material. The oldies played from an antique juke box in the corner.
Fifties-style decor surrounded her, as well as a few small families and couples laughing while they enjoyed their desserts. It was shortly after six in the evening of the second-worst day of her life. The sound of their happiness grated on her, but she’d have to get used to listening to it from the outside again sooner or later.
It was as good a place as any for her birthday. Not that she felt much like celebrating. Her phone had rung nonstop at the apartment, so she’d changed into old jeans, a T-shirt, and then tucked as much of her hair into a cap as she could. Even then the paparazzi had chased her into the subway and rattled off questions about her relationship with Micah until the train had finally swallowed her into the anonymity of the crowd and taken her away.
That would be her life now, for a while, at least. It was no less than she deserved for being so incredibly stupid. Sol would come after her for sticking it to the paper the way she had, but she didn’t care. “Let him come,” she said to her pie that only had two nibbles out of it. Nothing would be worse than what he’d already done.
Micah was gone, and so was her only avenue to lend her voice to those in need.
Had he seen her on TV earlier? Would she ever see him again? Given his rage, probably not.
How would she move on from this and let him go? How would she pay her rent? What could she do with her life? How could she make a difference now that nobody would ever trust her again? Maybe it was time to find a new city to call home. Even though most of her time with Micah had been spent in Muskoka, she couldn’t look anywhere without thinking of him and what they might have had. Like a real family with children they’d have shared pie and good laughs with in one of those booths.
The bell above the door dinged as hot city air swirled into the cool draft from the overhead vents. She wiped away a fresh batch of tears.
Movement beside her added to her agitation. The entire counter area was vacant except for her, and the guy had to sit so close, his elbow was crowding her? The last thing she wanted was to argue with a stranger, so she moved her plate farther along the sticky countertop and resumed picking at the pie crust with her fork.
“I’m shocked you’re not licking your plate by now,” a familiar voice said.
Her hand shot out, and the pie would have gone off the far side of the counter if Micah hadn’t snatched it before it went over the edge.
Air escaped her as she stared at his smiling face, his hair tied back to give her the full view. His crisp winter scent washed over her.
“Happy birthday, lucerito.”
The fork fell out of her hand and clanked onto the counter, and she dropped her gaze to it, not sure what to feel out of the gazillion emotions roaring through her at once. “What are you doing here? No, never mind, I don’t want to know. I’ll just go. It’s only a matter of time before the paparazzi finds you with the queen of the media whores.”
“Shit, I said that, didn’t I?” Micah sighed hard and turned his stool so he faced her directly, making her squirm even harder. “Words said in stupidity and in anger, because I’d convinced myself you were too good to be true. I failed the first test of faith. I’ll beg your forgiveness on my knees in front all these people, in front of the world, if it would fix this.” He set her recorder on the countertop. “I believe this is yours.”
She gaped at it and then at him. “How did you get that?”
“I paid a visit to your douchey boss. I’m sure your job will be waiting for you tomorrow, if you still want it.”
She didn’t. No, there was something else waiting out there for her, she knew it now. Hope bloomed in her like a heatwave, leaving no part of her unaffected. “I swear I never meant for this to happen—”
“I know.”
“—and I won’t stop until everyone knows you’re not the monster that story made you out to be—”
“I know that, too.”
“—because you’re not.” Still afraid to wake up and find this a dream, Darcy braced herself for his answer. “Why aren’t you angry? Why else would you have come here? You can’t still want me. I’ve been thrown away for less.” She frowned. “How did you find me, here, anyway?”
“I’m here because I’m hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. I made a promise to give you a memorable birthday, and I’m a man of my word. I want you, and I’m not just talking about the naked parts. And I found you here because I thought—because I hoped you’d go someplace to feel close to me, and this was all I came up with, other than the cottage, and you didn’t have the keys for the boat, so…”
“But, does this mean…are you saying you forgive me for doing exactly what you were sure I was going to do from the start?”
Another sigh tickled along her senses as he propped his chin against his palm, his elbow resting on the counter, the pose turning him into a vision she wasn’t sure was real. “I need to know something first. On TV, you said I restored your faith in love. Does that mean you were lying that morning when you said you didn’t mean to blurt out those three little words?”
Choking back nervous laughter, she said, “I think my heart took over my mouth and said what I was afraid to. I seem to have that problem a lot.”
A smile lit his face, and the force of it jump-started her faint heart. “Well, in that case, here’s the price for my forgiveness—a kiss, right here, right now. The warrior’s pissed that you’ve ignored him the last two days, and he nearly tore Mag’s face off earlier today when she was trying to drive reason into my temporary madness.”
Darcy came to her feet, shoving the pie back, and sliding her hand along his throat. “I never thought I’d get to do this again. Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”
“If you are, then it’s a good one. You should know the world is watching, and if they see this, there’ll be no end to the water-cooler speculations about our torrid affair.”
Vaguely aware of the camera flashes through the windows, and the eyes of the other patrons glued to the pair of them, she pressed her lips to his scar. “All I see is you.”
This kiss began like no other. A meeting of lips, yes, and sweet breath, but behind it, was a glimmer of hope for the life she’d always wanted. Arms to hold her through the storms. Desserts shared over laughter. Nights of passion and dawns met with a warm body next to hers. Arguments over silly things they’d overcome.
He’d fought for her, and it set her soul on fire.
And it set her free.