Page 76 of When Hearts Ignite

It’s a disappointment, that’s for sure. But it’s not something completely unexpected. After all, the man never came to search for us. If he’s so determined to stay hidden, he probably covered his tracks well.

I retrieve my purse from beside me, Mom’s classic black leather flap bag she loved and protected her entire life. My guess is, it was a gift from my father, whoever he is. After unzipping it, I trace the inscription on the leather tag affixed to the inner lining.

The number of stars in the skies pales in comparison to my regard for you.

It’s beautiful, if not bittersweet.

I could sense the love in the words, and yet, their story did not end well.

If only real life could imitate novels, where happily-ever-after is waiting for all of us at the end.

Maybe he isn’t alive anymore, and Mom is finally reunited with him in the afterlife.

The pang in my chest deepens as my vision blurs. I failed the one thing I swore myself never to do, to give my heart away to a man who has no business being mine and followed in my mom’s footsteps.

I can feel my resolve weakening, the temptation growing into a bottomless pit of hunger, famished for the exhilarating rush, the quickening of my breath, the fluttering in my gut only one person can give me.

Steven.

His impassionate words about helping me out of whatever predicament he thinks I’ve gotten myself into.

Would it be so bad to rely on someone else for once?

In times like this, when I’m staring into the dreary skies and the heavens pouring grief out from the clouds, I wonder how nice it would be to lean against a strong pair of shoulders, to close my eyes and relinquish all control, and to be loved and taken care of by someone else.

My throat tingles and thickens.

Riiiing.

I look at the caller ID on my phone. My girls.

Forcing my face into a bright smile, I answer, seeing three concerned faces staring at me.

“What is this? An intervention?” I joke with a chuckle, which sounds fake even to my ears.

Taylor frowns, the black heart on her nose glinting from the lamplight in our apartment. “Grace, we’re all worried about you. You haven’t been yourself the last few weeks.”

“What are you talking about?” I stand and pace around the room.

“You were staring into space when we watched the finale of Sex and the City last weekend. That’s your favorite episode!” Belle frowns.

“I don’t even know when the last time I heard a random factoid from you was,” Millie adds and lets out a sigh. She looks like she’s in her bedroom.

Taylor runs her hands through her inky strands and arranges them into a bun. “Don’t bother denying it. You’ve been dull since you left your banking job and then everything went downhill when Mom passed.”

Her eyes take on a wet sheen. She clears her throat, her voice thickening, before continuing, “I know it’s been hard with Mom gone. I miss her a lot too, Grace. But I don’t think that’s it. You’ve been a shadow of yourself, especially the last few weeks, and we’ve all noticed it.”

Plopping back down on the settee, my hand smooths the white shirt dress, my fingers rearranging the fine fabric so the thigh high slit isn’t as prominently displayed.

“Nothing is going on, girls. You guys are too sensitive. Can’t a girl just have some off days?”

Millie raises her brow and exchanges a glance with Belle, who has joined Millie in the bedroom.

“Just ask,” Belle hisses, nudging Millie in the ribs.

“Fine. Fine.” Millie winces before turning her face toward the camera again. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, but is this sudden depression because of a man?”

“What man? You know I don’t do relationships—”

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