Page 116 of When Hearts Ignite

I nod glumly. “I know that,” I mutter under my breath. “I know that.”

“And we’ll be here for you afterward, Steven. All of us,” Charles says softly as he crouches down, his face grim, and the others agree in unison.

She deserves to know.

We’re a team. This is my last act of kindness to her as I stab her in the heart and cripple her in pain. My parting gift so she can receive the news with kid gloves, knowing I love her until the very end, until I’m not allowed to.

Because she’s worth it. And I should let her know that. She’s worth every wishing star in the skies, every factoid in the darkness of the night.

I’m not leaving her because she’s lacking—she needs to know that.

And hopefully, one day, when the dust settles and her heart heals, and the scar has faded, she can find a good man to love her. Because she deserves the love. She deserves everything in the world.

Tears cloak my vision and my chest tightens in a vise, stealing me of breath at the idea of her with another man, of someone else kissing those beautiful lips, listening to those soft sighs, eating the damn hot dogs with her in Central Park, doing all the things I want to do.

The weight on my chest smothers me and acid churns in my gut, swirling, roiling like a ship in dark seas amidst a hurricane. Another flash of pain—a bolt of lightning—hits me in my heart.

My fingers tremble as I pick up my cell phone, hover over her name, and press the call button.

“Steven? Steven, are you there? Are you okay?” Her sweet, frantic voice filters through the line.

My kindhearted darling Grace. Her first words are not of censure, not of anger, but of concern. For me.

“Steven?”

I let out a ragged sigh and clear my throat. The Andersons and Charles have stepped away, no doubt to give me privacy as they hover a few feet in front of me, talking amongst themselves in hushed whispers.

“I’m here and I’m fine.” Liar. My voice is hoarse and raw. “W-Where are you?”

“I’m with the girls. What happened?” I can hear the worry bleeding through her voice.

“Send me the address. I’m coming to you.”

I pace around the colorful living room of Millie’s and Belle’s two-bedroom apartment in SoHo. Moments ago, the girls were consoling me as I was drowning my sorrows and worries in a pint of vanilla ice cream. After we won the war against Timothy Voss and Steven boarded his jet to bring the news of our victory to his father, he disappeared without a trace.

Normally, a day with no contact wouldn’t worry me, but Emily’s frantic voice when she called me on the phone was something I wouldn’t forget for a long time.

His sister sounded desperate. Worried beyond measure.

If it weren’t for the “read” notifications on my text messages and the lights turning on in his penthouse apartment on the Upper West Side, I would be afraid for his safety, thinking the worst had happened.

The memories of our last moments together haunt me. The tears in his eyes when he found me after his talk with Elias, when he held a bundle of documents in his shaky grip he said would win us the war. The soft, searing kiss he pressed on my lips before he got on his jet for LA that night, promising me he’d come back the next day and we’d be able to spend the rest of our days together in peace.

I was worried sick and when I found out something happened and he was back in the city, and the concern mixed with anger when he ignored my calls and texts, leaving those who love him to worry alone.

How could he do this to me? To his sisters? Doesn’t he know we’re worried?

And so, tonight, my mind mad with swirling emotions, we had our girls’ night at Millie and Belle’s apartment, where we watched Sex and the City the movie—the iconic scene where Charlotte curses the day Mr. Big was born on the day he was supposed to marry Carrie—our ceramic bowls filled with heaps of ice cream.

When men disappoint, my girls will always be here.

But my mind was still cluttered, my thoughts still full of Steven, and even the rich creaminess of ice cream couldn’t stave the pain.

Then, my phone rang and my heart leaped to my throat as my fingers trembled as I answered. Suddenly, all thoughts of anger flew out the window and concern for him darted to the forefront.

One minute. That was how long the phone call lasted. But I had a distinct feeling it was the start of the end. A sixth sense. A harbinger of doom.

The world fades into the background as Steven’s voice on the phone echoes in my mind.

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