Tristan waited until the clicking of Izzie’s high heels beating the tiled floor died out before he counted to ten and turned around. The empty room felt like a reflection of his soul.

Barren.

As if on cue, the phone rang, the piercing sound broke the dark spell, and he grabbed it. “Chez Nous Bistro,” he informed the caller without inflection. Recognizing a longtime supplier’s voice, he switched to a chirpy tone to mask his dreary mood. “What can I do for you?”

He kept the devil-may-care act until closing time. All the while, Tristan felt like he was operating in two distinct dimensions, as if his true bleak self was watching his false lively reflection in a mirror.

Eerie.

He waited for the last employee to leave, then closed the restaurant and sank into his office chair. He felt drained and in dire need of an outlet for the negative mojo he accumulated in the last couple of hours. He had never gotten into drugs; the closest thing he had to an addiction was music.

He unlocked his cell to call Noah. Even though they were roommates, it’d be wise to give the guy a heads-up about a midnight jam session, in case Noah went to bed earlier than usual. Or he had female company. His finger hovered over a number, then tapped on it.

“Hey, still up?” Tristan didn’t bother with a proper greeting before demanding, “Be ready to rock-and-roll all night. I’ll be there in twenty.”

The drive back to his apartment building was faster than Tristan anticipated. Still, he pressed the floor number on the electronic panel of the elevator and leaned on the mirrored back wall watching the numbers increase to fifteen. When the doors opened, he strolled out of the elevator, dragged his feet to the apartment, and inhaled deeply before pressing the bell as he exhaled.

He whistled and gave Bruna a once-over when she opened the door wide. “Babe, you know how to greet a man.”

Clad in sheer lacy lingerie, the voluptuous dark-haired beauty was precisely what he needed to erase the day from hell he had had. That’s what Tristan told himself as he crowded her, plastering Bruna against the wall.

He swung the door shut with his foot and pinned her generous curves with his lower body as he descended to claim her purple painted lips. Faint memories of other heart-shaped lips covered in plum color lipstick threatened to sneak up on him, but he shoved them to the back of his mind as he deepened his assault on Bruna’s mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Tristan eased up the pressure on Bruna’s soft lips when her whimpers reached his mind and he realized he was pushing her too hard against the wall as well. To his surprise, she pulled his head down and whispered, “Don’t stop.”

He slanted his mouth as his teeth pulled her full lower lip and he moved the party to the couch. Bruna opened his shirt as she straddled him. She knitted her eyebrows, but before she could say a word, Tristan latched on her nipple, moistening the fabric as he sucked.

He didn’t want to talk.

He wanted to forget.

Bruna’s long fingers traced a path from his chin to the waist of his pants and toyed with the buckle of his belt. He thrust up to give her access and she deftly unzipped him and reached in for his cock. As their lips locked again, she pumped his shaft trying to bring it to life. No such luck.

He fought a bitter taste in his mouth that burned his throat as remorse clawed its way up his throat from the pit of his stomach. He held Bruna’s hand and shook his head when her downcast eyes flew up to stare into his. “Sorry, not going to happen.”

“That’s okay, T. These things happen, particularly in my personal experience. It’s not your fault.”

He gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. “No, this is not on you. Don’t go there. This is all me.”

Climbing off his lap and plopping down on the couch beside him, Bruna closed the burgundy satin kimono and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tristan wrestled his inner demons to come up with a truthful enough reply that wouldn’t come across as snarky or needy. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want Bruna’s pity. “Believe me, I’ve had the worst day today. My selfish mistake was to think a couple of sweaty rounds with you would make things better.” He raised a hand when her eyes shone with something akin to sympathy and she opened her mouth. “No, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m an ass for coming here in the state I’m in.” He buttoned the rumpled shirt and zipped up the pants, then snapped his head up when he heard Bruna’s chuckle.

He found no amusement in her expression, though. “Women love when men tell us what we think or feel, you know.”

Second mental slap landed on Tristan’s large head. “See? I shouldn’t have come. I’m just digging myself a bigger hole here.” He held her gaze for a moment before adding. “I am a jerk, but I shouldn’t be a jerk with you. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve me dumping my shit on you.”

Bruna reached out and clasped his wrist when he stood to leave. “Not denying the jerk comment, but you’ve been going through a lot of shit lately with the restaurant and the bad investments and all,” she offered him an out. “However, you’re not you tonight. What’s going on?”

Although tempted to disencumber the load on his chest, Tristan smiled and shook his head. “Not fair. Too much shit, way too damn old. I don’t have the right to drag you down this rabbit hole.”

“I’m here for you, for more than just a quickie, you know.”

That he did. And how.

Bruna had helped him through some serious shit as Lilly’s dialysis got more frequent and her health deteriorated. When he decided to transfer Lilly from the hospital to a top-notch nursing home under the supervision of the best kidney specialist in the country, Dr. Bruna Cordeiro’s fame as a brilliant neurosurgeon opened more doors than Tristan’s bank account.

He owed her so much. “All the more reason not to throw you into this mess.”

“I won’t twist your arm, man. I respect your privacy. It’s just that I figured you don’t have a friend to talk to, so I offered.”

He shrugged. “Noah is a good friend, the best, actually.”

“So why aren’t you in your apartment?”

“I called. He’s got company,” Tristan admitted the truth to himself as much as to Bruna and collapsed on the couch. “It’s just that this is so fucked up, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Beginnings tend to be a safe bet.”

“Well, that would be back when I was a kid. Mom made up for me not having a father around with both love and material things, but I was a difficult kid, always picking fights, except when Izzie was around. She made me want to be a better person.”

“You never mentioned Izzie. Is she your sister?”

Tristan checked Bruna’s expression for signs of jealousy, but found only interest, so he stated, “Izzie Anderson,” and waited for the usual hysterical reaction. It never came.

“She’s a singer.”

He was amazed. “That sounds more like a question.”

“Because I’m not sure, okay?”

He reached out and ran a thumb over the soft skin on her cheek, a reluctant smile touching his lips. “I love the fact you are not.” He smoothed the crease that formed between her eyebrows with his thumb. “Your opinion won’t be biased by what you read in the media.”

“Between going to med school, completing residency and starting my practice, I didn’t have much of a life ten years ago.”

“Long story short, Izzie and I were best friends growing up, she became a worldwide rock star at fifteen, we started dating in Westlake High, I fell head over heels in love with her at nineteen and she got pregnant with my friend and mentor’s child at twenty-three when I was about to propose to her. I moved to Brazil and never saw her again.”

“Until today. Did she go to Chez Nous by any chance?”

Tristan wasn’t surprised at Bruna’s insightful conclusion. “Apparently, she came to apologize, fifteen fucking years too late.”

“Why now?”

“That I don’t know, she didn’t say when I asked.”

Bruna seemed to assess the situation as she chewed her lower lip and stared at him. “I’m sure your docked version left out vital pieces of information, so I might not be able to fully understand what’s going on, but I’d say something major happened. I mean, one doesn’t take a twelve-hour flight to another country just to apologize for something that happened over a decade ago.”

Tristan flirted with disclosing the whole story. Maybe Bruna would help him see something he had missed. She was sensitive and smart, but he discarded the concept with a shrug. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. There’s been some speculation going around on the media that she’ll announce her retirement soon.”

“Is she forty like you? So young.”

“Thirty-eight.”

“You sure that’s why?”

“Not really. It’s not like I follow her career, you know,” he offered, his voice devoted of emotions. “But, people talk, and newspaper headlines get posted everywhere. I didn’t verify the rumors, though.”

“I’ve got it. You don’t have time for showbiz gossip. Fair enough. Now, let’s say she is retiring. Why would she come all the way here to talk to you? I fail to see a connection.”

“Me neither, not a direct one anyway. Maybe she’s planning a farewell album and wants to convince me to contribute to it.”

“I’ve heard you playing with Noah and the guys. You’re good, but I’m pretty sure she can pick another guitar player that she hasn’t screwed over.”

“Good point, but I meant write a song,” he replied. When she raised an eyebrow at the comment, he explained, “I wrote most of the lyrics for Izzie’s songs up until we broke up. She collected hits and awards for those. She’s recorded a couple of number one songs after that, but they were few and far between.”

“And you think she’d be so brazen as to come after you for that?”

“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted, burying his face in his hands after digging his elbows on his knees. “Nothing adds up.”

Bruna’s fingers ran through his hair and twisted his neck to look up at her, still resting his face on his hands. Her smile beamed as she declared, “You still love her.” When he grunted in response, she conceded. “I’ll rephrase it. You still feel something for her. Don’t try to convince me otherwise, the evidence speaks for itself. You’re heartbroken. You still sound hurt talking about her, after all this time. It wouldn’t cut so deep if you didn’t still have feelings.”

He opened his mouth to refute the idea, then shut it.

Bruna was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. A successful neurosurgeon, a woman insecure about her appearance, and an insightful fuck buddy. Her reasoning was sound, except she was wrong.

“You’re right, you don’t fully understand what’s going on because you don’t have the nitty-gritty of the situation. It’s too late and I’m too tired to go there now though.” He grazed her lips as he stood to leave. “Thanks for listening and trying to help. You’re a good friend.”

“No problem.”

Nodding, Tristan walked out the door and closed it behind him, then climbed the stairs to his floor. The apartment was quiet, Noah’s bedroom door was closed, for which Tristan said a silent prayer because his roommate tended to forget to do that even when he had company. Oh, the scenes Tristan had witnessed without intending to. Not pretty.

Even less appealing was the scenario Bruna’s words painted. They swirled in his mind as he mulled them over, throwing his clothes in the hamper.

He took a quick shower to get rid of the day’s bad juju, then went straight to bed. But, when sleep eluded him, Tristan fought the gloomy thoughts that insisted to keep him up.

He lost the battle.

The past rushed back, flooding his head with memories he had spent years repressing. He tossed and turned, checking the alarm clock on the nightstand every five minutes, until he drifted into sleep around five in the morning.

* * *

Dreams have a peculiar way of taking people back in time to relive events as they once happened. Tristan’s dreams that night came without surprise. It had taken him a long time, and a lot of heartache, to repress the happy moments he had shared with Izzie. Some of the most cherished ones assaulted him when his mind slipped into slumber.

Different from other friends-to-lovers couples he knew, Tristan had never doubted that Izzie was his one and only. He hadn’t lied to himself, he hadn’t denied his feelings. He had owned them, he had treasured them. He had seized each opportunity that came his way to show Izzie how much he loved her.

But being two years older than Izzie, he didn’t act on his desire. Instead, he waited for her to be ready. That made for an awkward, disappointing first time. Prom night’s expectations, and zero experience on both parts, were to blame. Still, the night tuned out to be memorable.

Weeks before Izzie’s senior prom night, Tristan booked a suite in a romantic bed and breakfast in Santa Barbara, giving the staff precise instructions on how he wanted them to decorate the room. As Tristan and Izzie slow danced to their favorite song on the dance floor, a ballad by her favorite rock band, her softness wrapped around him like a security blanket. Tristan’s heart beat a crazy tattoo against his ribs, when he tipped her chin up, and his stare dove into her green eyes as Bono’s raspy voice sang about that one and only love people share. Her black curls rested on her shoulders, so he wrapped one around his wrist, cradling her delicate nape in his palm.

He had rehearsed the words so many times, but the expectation in her eyes undid his confidence. Those moments looked so much easier on a movie screen or TV set. His heart beat so fast he swallowed hard to keep it from flying off his mouth. Still, the words deserted him.

What the hell kind of lyricist am I? I can’t tell the woman I love how I feel.

Defeated, he rested his forehead against Izzie’s, now cupping her face with both hands.

The vixen brushed her lips against his, a smile softening the curve of her mouth, then nudged his cheek with her turned-up nose. Tip-toeing to reach his ear, she whispered, “Yes.”

Relief washed the tension away, closely chased by arousal. Izzie’s smile broadened when his hard-on poked her belly.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered back, lacing their fingers, and parting the swaying couples as he made a beeline for the nearest exit.

Finding the driver of the limo he had rented took forever. At least, the blood racing down to his crotch made it feel that way. Once inside the car, he didn’t give directions to the Santa Barbara B&B he had booked, the driver knew where they were heading. Tristan had instructed him earlier because he wanted to surprise Izzie.

He sat as far from Izzie as physically possible.

She scooted closer and leaned on him.

He sat still, focusing his stare on the houses outside as if he planned to memorize their architecture.

Izzie wasn’t famous for her patience.

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, when she tried to sit on his lap and Tristan splayed his hand on her midriff, keeping her by his side. “It’s not like we’ve never fooled around in a car before.”

Her frustration matched his, but he wouldn’t budge.

“This is different. I want to do this right, Izzie. You deserve the best. I want your first time to be special.”

“Silly. It’s your first too. Besides, all I want is you. It doesn’t matter where we are.”

He welcomed her hungry lips on his, letting his eyelids drop to hide his own hunger. But, he didn’t kiss her back.

“It matters to me,” he whispered inside her mouth, when she came up for air. Covering the hand Izzie had placed on his hard cock, he pulled it up to rest on his chest over his heart. “Feel this? That’s what you do to me. I don’t want it to be over before it begins. I promise, I won’t last until Santa Barbara if you keep going at it.”

Izzie sobered up, pulled away, and peered into his face. A twinkle in her green eyes betrayed her excitement. “Santa Barbara? You’re serious about this crap.”

Grinning like the fool in love he was, Tristan draped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He rested his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the floral scent of her perfume as he kissed her hair. She snuggled under his arm, resting her face on his chest.

With his free hand, he fished a small leather box from his pocket and placed it on the back of her hand. The one she had kept over his heart. “I’ve got something for you.”

Izzie bolted upright at the same time she opened the three-part dark blue box. Nestled in its plushy interior, a delicate Claddagh ring reflected the dim overhead light. Tiny golden hands held a ruby heart crowned by three tear-drop diamonds.

Her gasp spoke volumes and Tristan thought the world stopped spinning when her soft stare locked with his. He wished time would stop, so he could savor that moment forever. Since the hands of the clock didn’t slow down for them, he leaned down to brush his lips over hers. He got the ring to place it on her finger.

“Just so we’re clear, this isn’t a proposal. We’re too young for that. You’ve got your career to focus on now. I want you to become this huge household name in music. You’ve got an amazing voice, I’m so proud of you,” he whispered as he slid the exquisite piece of jewelry on her right ring finger, the heart pointed inward. “If you wear it like this, people will know you’re single, but in a relationship.”

Izzie silenced him with a kiss. Not passionate, not long. A feathery, sweet touch that went straight to his soul.

He cupped her face, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks, basking in the emotions she laid bare in her eyes.

She whispered, “I don’t give a damn what people think when they see this ring, though. The only thing that matters to me is that you gave it to me because you are in a relationship with me.”

Tristan almost forgot his good intentions, his hard-on painfully tenting his tuxedo pants.

He reined in his hormones.

Barely.

Sighing in resignation, he kissed her forehead. “You’ve got that right, love. You know what else this ring means?”

“My Irish ancestors must be rolling in their graves right about now,” she confessed as she shook her head.

“Silly!” Tristan kissed the tip of her lovely nose. “The hands represent my friendship; the heart, my love; and the crown, my loyalty. The ring means you’ll always get these three things from me.”

Her eyes brimmed with, he hoped, happy tears before she climbed on his lap. “I swear to God, I’ll slap you if you try to push me off,” she growled.

He chuckled. “No worries there.”

Tristan cradled her head with one hand as he raked the fingers of his other hand down her back and their mouths sealed together in a slow, deep kiss. He poured his soul into that gesture and it was touched by Izzie’s. Her body trembled, and her lips quivered under his, but her low moans raised the red flags.

He pulled away, rested his forehead against hers again, and tried to catch his breath. Her wriggling on his lap did nothing to help soothe his desire. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

Her mischievous laughter meant she knew what she was doing.

She promised, “I’ll behave.”

Izzie dropped her head on his shoulder, linked her fingers loosely behind his neck, and sat still until they reached their destination.

When Tristan opened the door of the suite, a whiff of cinnamon and vanilla welcomed them. Her head snapped up and he smiled down at her stunned expression.

“You remembered!”

She was referring to a movie they had watched a couple of years before. The first one they watched together that had sex scenes in it. Overcoming the initial self-consciousness, when a particular scene was over, where the main character loses her virginity, they discussed it. Izzie told him the romantic setting was her favorite part of the whole scene. Tristan had the B&B staff recreate it to a tee, including the scented candles spread around the room, and the red rose petals marking a path from the door to the bed.

“I remember everything about you,” he replied.

Despite his best efforts, their first sexual experience didn’t live up to expectations.

“I’m so sorry.” His out-of-breath statement hung in the air between them as Izzie propped herself on her arms when they were done.

“Why? I’m the one who should be apologizing. I got too self-conscious, I guess. I didn’t know what to do, how to move, or behave.”

“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up, laughing. “Let’s compromise here. We both screw this up? You know what they say, though. Practice makes it perfect.” Her smoldering smile encouraged him, so Tristan crawled down the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Brace yourself for round two.”

She squealed, when he placed a kiss on her navel, but didn’t try to escape his mouth. His lips curved up against her skin as his fingers drew a slow path downward, faintly caressing Izzie, and stoking his fire as her skin came alive with goosebumps. He stopped his fingers short of her sex, replacing them with his lips.

A quick touch to tease her.

Then, Tristan retraced his movements, crawling up the mattress. He braced himself above her body to shower open-mouthed kisses on her face, down her neck, lingering on the hollow of her throat, the underside of her breasts, on her belly button, and back to her sex. His desire took over and he latched his lips onto her clit, pulling it inside his mouth, sucking it until Izzie’s round thighs trembled, her fingers clawed through his hair.

Izzie moaned, and arched her back, so he sucked harder, adding a finger to take her over the edge. When her sighs escalated to sobs, her flesh quivering around his tongue and teeth, the first wave of orgasm hit her. Tristan sat upright on the bed, gathering her into his arms and onto his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside her. Izzie’s sex gripped his erection as if it would never let it go. Tristan exploded inside her warmth as Izzie whispered sweet nothings in his ear, cradling his face in the crook of her neck.

Blissful.

Sinful.

Unforgettable.

* * *

The alarm clock went off and Tristan snoozed it. When he opened his eyes again, he found out he had turned off the alarm, and slept for another hour. He groaned into the pillow as he buried his face in its softness. But, the real embarrassment came when he realized he was sporting a morning wood like he hadn’t in years.

“Just what I needed today,” he mumbled, throwing the sheets off him and climbing out of bed.

He took care of the hard-on with a quick cold shower and a little help from his five best friends. They never failed him. He got dressed, gobbled down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, then closed the lid of the traveling mug to keep the remaining latte warm as he drove to his destination through the light late morning traffic.

Snagging the last spot in the covered structure, Tristan killed the engine of his M4 GTS, and climbed out of it. As much as he loved Lilly, visiting his mom at the nursing home depressed him every time. As he emerged from the parking building, he took in the peaceful gardens with the extensive grassed area, trickling fountains, and colorful flowers dotting the beautiful landscape design. In the distance he spotted the orchard, a favorite with seniors and visitors alike, because it offered an inviting shade to escape the scorching tropical sun. Surprised not to locate Lilly there, Tristan steered towards the main building, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. He let out a sigh of relief when he found his mom sitting in the common area.

“Hey, hon,” Lilly grinned as he kissed her cheek. “Lose the frown, Tristan Knight. A hundred fifteen is way too hot, even for a California girl, with the humidity we’ve got here.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t need to. I’m your mother.” She winked, then coughed.

“That cough doesn’t sound good.” Tristan searched around for a staff member, when the whooping got Lilly out of breath.

She gripped his wrist at the same time as she clutched her flattened hand to her chest as if that could stop the wheeze. “It’s okay. There’s nothing they can do about it.”

Tristan was aware dialysis increased the risk of infections, so a simple cold could turn into something nasty, but he didn’t want to alarm Lilly. “If you say so,” he grumbled. Not wanting to alarm her didn’t mean he agreed with the situation.

“It’s just a cough, silly. Stop worrying and sit down so we can talk.” She patted the cushion beside her on the couch. “You’re giving me a neck cramp.”

It was like Lilly was using her Super Mom powers to turn him into an eight-year-old again and he wondered how moms did that. Surveying her one last time to make sure she didn’t need medical attention, he disregarded a comfortable-looking armchair nearby and sat beside Lilly on the couch. The subdued yellow upholstery harmonized with the elegant old-Europe décor of the spacious room, where half a dozen similar couches, set up in cozy semi-circles with matching chairs, offered privacy and comfort. He slung an arm around her shoulders and tucked Lilly against his chest. They didn’t talk, and he savored the warm sensation of hugging his mom. He was a hugger and wasn’t ashamed of that. At least, not around Lilly.

“It’s beautiful in here. I like it,” he observed, and she simply nodded. Apparently, his mom was enjoying the quiet moment with her only son.

The large windows provided healthy natural light and he admired the kaleidoscopic patterns that a beam painted on the floor and walls as it bounced off a Tiffany lamp on one of the side tables. He was trying his damnedest to accept Lilly’s deteriorating health, which wasn’t the Brazilian doctors’ fault. At all. Lilly lived in California when she was diagnosed, and Tristan went back to the United States. The doctors told him it was unlikely she would survive more than five years. He convinced her to come live in Brazil, where it would be easier to keep an eye on her. That was ten years ago.

For most of her life, Lilly partied hard, drinking anything with an alcohol content of fifteen percent or higher and experimenting with different drugs, both legal and not so legal. He had a pretty tame life compared to his mom’s. Now, her sixty-two-year-old abused system was threatening to shut down. He was terrified.

“What’s eating you, boy?” She leaned her head on his shoulder, but didn’t look up. Not necessary. She knew him too well.

Bullshitting her wouldn’t do, so he went for a minor reason for his worries. “I lost a boatload of money on those stocks I bought a couple of years ago and haven’t recouped the investment I put in when we opened Chez Nous.”

“That’s a steaming pile of crap if I’ve ever seen one. I’m sick, but I haven’t lost my marbles.” Although her words were harsh, he knew where she was coming from. Lilly had a unique way of showing affection. “You know damn well the stock market stabilized and is climbing. As for the restaurant, Nelson hired a fucking Michelin starred chef and breathes down poor Herve’s neck to make sure he keeps those stars intact. Noah is the best PR person I’ve ever met. Gosh, his dates alone would guarantee a steady income to the restaurant for years.”

He chuckled. “True.”

“You bust your ass to make sure all works smoothly. Last time I checked, Chez Nous was quite a smash. What gives?”

Not ready to admit his most recent concerns, Tristan stayed on a safer topic. “Yes, the bistro is doing well, but it’s a long way from repaying my initial investment, which means no profits. We spent more than we had planned on that dirt road linking Armação beach to Matadeiro. Otherwise, people would only have access to the waterfront restaurant by boat or on foot.”

He took a deep breath as he mulled his finances over. The mounting medical bills drained his bank account faster than the dwindling royalty paychecks coming in to replenish it. When he wrote lyrics for Izzie, other artists would also record his songs. After he left America, some continued to seek him out, but that had eventually died out.

“Okay, I’m not exactly bankrupt, but I’m not twenty anymore either. I’ve got responsibilities.”

“Which weigh on your mind. I get that. Between you and me, we’ve got more than enough money, though.” She framed his face and forced him to stare into her eyes, same exact color as his. “You are hiding something. Don’t roll your eyes on me, young man.”

“What am I going to do with you? You’re worse than a dog with a bone,” he snorted.

“Spill it.”

“Izzie is in town.”

“She is? I want to see her. Bring her here.”

“That’s it? You sure you didn’t lose your marbles?” He had a hard time keeping his tone light as his insides began to boil. He never quarreled with his mother and he wouldn’t start today over Izzie Anderson.

Still, he couldn’t believe Lilly was so excited about the idea that Izzie was in town.

She shrugged. “I miss her. She’s a good person. She was good for you.”

That almost did it, but Tristan bit his tongue. “Mom, you’re not senile, so don’t bullshit me. You remember quite well what happened. She screwed me over six ways to Sunday. She used to be a great person, I’ll give you that. I fell in love with her, didn’t I? You don’t understand it, though. Showbiz changed Izzie. She’s not the same person we used to know.”

“T, you won’t enjoy hearing this, but I’ll say it anyway. You. Are. Wrong. In my opinion, you should’ve gone after Izzie when she dumped that lowlife husband of hers.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not in the least. I get it. Neither of you knew what you were doing fifteen years ago. I mean, you were hurt, she was using. Besides, you were too young. That combination made for dreadful decisions on either part. When I read somewhere that she had gotten her act together, I kind of hoped she would come after you. Or that you would pull your head out of your ass and go after her.” She sighed. “It took her longer than I expected, but she came to your door. Now, the ball is in your court. Don’t let me down.”

He gawked at his mother, unable to decide where he should start pointing out the mistakes in her judgment. “Mom, I love you, but you don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” he admonished her, kissing her hands as he folded them inside his own. “That Izzie we knew and loved doesn’t exist anymore.” That thought saddened Tristan.

“I beg to differ.” Izzie’s soft rebuttal floated from somewhere behind the couch. Her even tone did nothing to appease his heartbeats as the vital organ thudded against his ribcage.

His head snapped around and he glared at Izzie. “How the hell did you find my mom?”

“I looked her up. Elizabeth Knight isn’t a popular name in Brazil and I found only one in the Florianópolis metropolitan area.” She shrugged.

Words escaped him, partially because he was caught off-guard, in part because of the ideas his mom and Bruna sowed in his head. But, mainly because the X-rated scenes that had populated his dreams the previous night now popped up in his head to haunt him. He battled the steamy images, but it was an epic failure. All it took to set his blood on fire was a sweep of his eyes over Izzie’s curvy figure in a floral knee-length sundress whose waist was accented by a thin brown leather belt. She looked stunning. Almost as irreproachable as she once was.

Dragging his stare away, he set aside the many ways he would love to bunch the ample skirt up and fill his hands with what was hidden beneath it, or how the silken material would feel against his naked skin as Izzie rode his cock.

He gave himself a mental shake and turned to Lilly. “I guess your wish just came true. She’s come to visit.” He kissed his mother’s hollowed cheek before he stood to leave. “I’ve got to go.”

He scuttled away and, if he were to be honest, rushed to escape Bruna’s and his mom’s words as they echoed in his head. His efforts were useless as the words haunted him. He refused to believe he still had feelings for Izzie like Bruna had pointed out. Or that Izzie could go back to being the free-spirited and kind woman she used to be as his mom defended.

The woman he had fallen in love with.

“No way!” He muttered as he backed out of the parking space, maneuvering toward the exit.