Page 31 of Reckless Vow

Kiss me.

As soon as the thought flickers through the fog in my head, my lips part. His gaze bores into me, warring, but he doesn’t move.

Kiss me.

I beg with my eyes, my lips, my inner thoughts.

The entry hall is dim, the only light coming from the kitchen down the corridor and from the porch outside.

We’re both lost in the shadow of the house that witnessed the tragic end of our story.

Or was it only the first act?

We remain in the strange embrace, not moving, the cool evening air spreading goosebumps down my spine.

His closeness feels like everything I ever missed in my life. Which is a stupid, sappy thought, but the longing in me is real.

Kiss me.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down a few times and then he kicks the door closed, steadies me and steps back.

“Shame.” I pout, and oops, I didn’t mean to mourn the loss of him out loud. It makes me giggle. Another wrong move if his glower is any indication.

“Jesus, Brook, you’re drunk. Where the fuck have you been?” He stomps through the hall leading to the kitchen.

Either he expects me to follow or he doesn’t care about my answer.

I follow.

But the scene in the kitchen sobers me up. In one corner of the large island, two plate settings wait along with wine glasses and Mom’s special-occasion candle stand.

The whole visual is even more romantic because it’s not in the formal dining room. It’s at the corner where we used to eat our breakfast cereal.

Together. Secretly holding hands.

My heart hammers in my temples as I try to blink away tears forming behind my eyes. When I land my gaze on the enormous bouquet of purple orchids—my favorite—I stop breathing.

This is too much.

“You cooked for me?” I want to sound indifferent, but my voice comes out broken.

Baldo stands by the door to the yard, his back to me. Scrolling on his phone. How does a man do all of this for me and then check his social media? Asshole.

He turns to me, and I’m reminded he was pissed when he opened the door. That hasn’t changed if I’m to guess by the glare. “I have been calling you, worried, all night.”

“What? I can’t go out?” Apparently,I’mthe asshole tonight. The man inspires the worst in me.

He shakes his head. “You can go out. But why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone?”

Well, Baldo Cassinetti has just joined the rest of the family in patronizing me. Though I may deserve it at the moment. I rummage through my bag. “Oh shit, I lost it again.”

“You lost your phone?” He doesn’t believe me.

I nod.

“Just how much have you drunk? And what do you meanagain?”

This might cheer him up. “Me and my phones…” His glower intensifies. Like he’s had enough of me. I swallow. “It’s a long story.” I don’t think he’d consider my chronic inability to keep a phone amusing. I smile at him. “You cooked.”

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