Page 45 of Fate

“Shit.” I shake my head. “You’ve made a romantic dinner for two, and I was being a selfish asshole.” I grind my teeth and fist my hands at my sides. I don’t know how to start this conversation, and it’s eating me alive. Nevertheless, she’s still my Kathleen, and she’s gone to a lot of trouble to make me a meal. “Let’s sit and eat what you’ve cookedup.”

A soft smile lifts the bit of sadness weighing down the initial joy I’d seen in her face when I arrived. “I made your favorite. Lasagna.” She walks over to the table and pulls out a chair at the head. “Sit.”

I sniff the air and am assaulted by the mix of oregano, basil, fresh sauce, and garlic. My mouth waters and my belly rumbles. “Damn, it smells so good in here. Almost as good as you.” Iwink.

She chuckles and her cheeks redden as she flits to the kitchen. The apartment has a roomy, open-layout feel to it. Her cabinets are bright white with glass insets and backlighting to show her dishes. The countertops are a cool gray with specks of gold, black, and glittery-looking rocks running through them. Top of the line for sure. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less in one of my cousin’s buildings.

I look around at her apartment—really look—not like last time, when I had her up against the door and then in bed, before I had to jet off in the morning. I realize how little this place suits her. Sure, she has it filled to the brim with knickknacks, framed photos, original art, comfy pillows in various earthy tones, but it lacks something I was once used to seeing. Against one corner, she has a desk full of loose drawings, fabric swatches, and books on various designers and fashion trends. That’s pretty standard. Another area has a large dark-purple couch, a replacement for the beat-up one she used to have when we dated. Actually, a lot of what she had when we were together is missing from the room, including from her bedroom, now that I think about it. When I was lying with her, nothing in the room around us felt the same as it did in thepast.

Then it dawns on me. She’d gotten rid of almost everything she had in her apartment from before. The art hanging on the walls is different, the furniture, the pictures scattered around the room don’t contain any of us together. The photos are all of her soul sisters and their children. Even trinkets, things I’d given her during our year together, were missing in action. It was the strangest thing. As I surveyed the room, looking for a scrap of the woman I fell in love with three years ago, I couldn’t find her. It’s as if she didn’t even live here. Like she up and left. Walkedout.

That’s when it hit me like a punch to the heart. She’d removed anything remotely related to me and who we were together.

And I thought her kicking me out that night three years ago hurt. But this… Finding out she willingly, painstakingly removed every trace of what we had together, of me, from her life… Gutted. There’s nothing else to describe the moment when a man realizes the woman he loved, still loves, has moved on so completely there isn’t a trace left. And now I’ve opened a small window back into her heart and her life, and I’m going to break her all over again. She’ll go right back to living without me, without us. She’s done it for three years. What’s to say she can’t or won’t do it again? And it’ll be even easier this time since we only have one night to goon.

Fuck.

I can’t tell her about Cora and Misty. Not yet. I need more time. More time to get her to fall completely and utterly in love with me again, or I’ll lose her forever. A person only gets a second chance once. This is mine, and I’m not going to ruin it before I’ve even had a real shot. Noway.

Kat comes back into the room with big red mitts on and a glass casserole tray that smells like virtue and sin mixed together with noodles and cheese.

She sets the dish down, removes the mitts, and pours the wine. Her left hand is a bit shaky, but for all intents and purposes, she’s adjusted well to not having full use of her right hand, her more dominanthand.

“Thankyou.”

She sits and lifts her glass. “So, what should we toast to?” Her pretty brown eyes are swirling with excitement and a hint of mischief.

“There’s nothing more important than us.” And an eighteen-month-old toddler with my blue eyes and a penchant for destroying order at every possible opportunity. Kind of like what could happen if my secret comes out too soon. I keep that last part to myself and clink glasses.

We both take a sip, and Kat hums. It reminds me of how Cora makes “mmm” and “oohh” sounds while she eats, as if every meal is a surprise.

Kat dishes out the lasagna and salad, and I dig in, not sure how to go about winning her back and keeping her in my life in such a way the devastating hit of my family-man status won’t hurt sobad.

“So, tell me what you’ve been dealing with this past week that’s kept you from being withme?”

The question hits like a hammer, so hard a chunk of lasagna slides down the wrong pipe, making me gag and choke. I suck down a huge swallow of wine, which burns like acid against the tender tissue. Serves me right for lying.

Instead of admitting the whole truth and hoping she can understand, I stick to my guns and discreetly change the subject by grabbing her right hand—the scarred one I know she doesn’t prefer to have touched—and run my fingers along thetop.

“How’s about you tell me what you’ve been up to the past two years. Let’s start at the beginning and work our way up to the present.” Please God, let her buy it. A pang of guilt pierces my heart, and I rub at my chest with the hand not holdinghers.

She watches the move, her shrewd mind probably picking up that I’ve changed the subject. Just when I think she’s going to nail me on it, she surprisesme.

“Well, after things ended withus…”

“You mean after you ended it,” I spit out, that wound still open at the top of my subconscious. I wince. “I’m sorry, Sweetcheeks…”

She shakes her head and pulls her hand away. “No, no. Once again, I deserve it. But if this has any chance of sticking long-term, Carson, you’re going to have to find a way to let go of what happened between us.” Her eyes seem to plead withme.

I nod. “I’ll try. For you. For us. Go ahead. Continue.”

Kat sips her wine and takes a bite of her lasagna. I do the same. The second bite of spicy Italian goodness hits my tongue, and I experience the taste. I’m ravenous, shoveling it in so fast I barely chew before putting in anotherbite.

She chuckles and dishes me out another serving without even asking. I look up and smile, grateful she knows me so well. At least inthis.

“As you know, I was in bad shape when things ended. I went down a shitty path. I didn’t want anyone’s help, and it ended up taking its toll. I’m not going to go into too much detail…”

Technically, she didn’t have to. Chase had been keeping me updated daily on what was going on with her. I knew about the night he found her passed out with the infection, the hospitalization when once again she had refused to see me. I even had a hand in helping Chase move her things to this apartment. Lot of good that did, since she didn’t seem to keep any of it. Something I definitely want to ask about.

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