Page 35 of Silent Cravings

“Oh. That’s a shame.” It was Miles who spoke first, nodding down at his screen. “Aria says Valentina wasn’t feeling well and left before Rose finished opening gifts.”

“I hope she isn’t overdoing it,” Colton murmured with a frown. “I was worried this would be too much for her. Why does she always work like she has something to prove?”

“Because she always feels like she has something to prove,” I observed without hesitation. One of the many points on which we had always been able to relate. I knew now that deep in the back of my mind, I had always observed her success through the lens of the time we spent getting to know each other that one wild summer.

There’s Valentina, proving herself.That was what drove her.

I kept my thoughts to myself until we went out to our cars, with the guys climbing into the limo I’d sent out to the city to pick them up while I got behind the wheel of my Mercedes. Before setting out, I sent Valentina a text.

Me:Heard you weren’t feeling well earlier. Can I bring you something? I could stop by and drop off whatever you need.

There wasn’t a woman in existence who’d ever deserved this level of attention. Not from me. Here I was, wanting to drive back to the city and act as a gofer to someone more than capable of taking care of herself.

I couldn’t help but blame it on my father, whose contact I pulled up after getting on I-95 and finding myself stuck in road work traffic. He answered right away, his voice filling the car and mysteriously devoid of the boisterous energy it held earlier. “Now you have time for me.” His sigh didn’t hide the animosity he held.

He always had a way of twisting shit around. “I had no idea you were there. I would’ve come straight up to see you otherwise.”

“I’m sure you would have rather spent the afternoon with your friends. Not that it matters,” he continued with another sigh. “I couldn’t announce in front of them what I came all this way to tell you. Your mother plans on staying with friends in Italy once she’s tired of Morocco. She’s not coming home.”

What a good thing I was stuck in place, surrounded by cars going nowhere, since the sudden shock might have been a problem if I’d been driving at speed. “What? Since when?”

“We’ve agreed to a divorce,” he explained, flat and even. No emotion spared for a woman he’d been married to for thirty years. “I came home to take care of things with thelawyers. This isn’t something you want to handle long-distance. I’m sure she’ll call you at some point.”

I wasn’t so sure. She never wanted to be a mother.A kid knows when they’re an unwelcome guest in their own home.“It’s a shame this is happening,” I offered, staring straight ahead while countless memories of stiff, distant holidays and strained smiles for family photos raced through my head. All it did was remind me of what a disaster I’d be as a husband and parent without a strong example of either.

“These things happen,” he reasoned. “At any rate, you have more than enough on your plate without worrying about us. I’ll let you go. I’m having a drink with my lawyers shortly.”

That was it. No goodbye, no wondering how I’d take the news. Not that I was important in all of this. I wasn’t a child either. There were no illusions when it came to them and their chilly attitude toward each other.

Traffic had started moving by the time the phone buzzed with a text from Valentina, who I’d almost forgotten after being blindsided by my father for the second time in an hour.

Valentina:I am really not feeling well and wouldn’t be good company. I have everything I need. I’ll see you Thursday for the final menu approval.

I didn’t have it in me to argue and knew it would be a waste of time. She was doing me a favor in the end. Cutting me off before I could show up at her apartment door looking for the comfort I’d been missing all my life.

All my life except for the summer we spent together.

13

VALENTINA

The wedding was a week and a half away now, and I couldn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time without waking up in a panic, remembering something else that had to be done in these final days.

I had never dreaded something while still looking forward to it as much as this last meeting in Evan’s office. It would be good to finalize a few things with him and make sure everything was on track. This meant we absolutely, positively could not fall into the same damn trap we always did, no matter that it had been more than two weeks since the last time we were together at his place during the storm.

One of us had to be smarter, and it had to be me. There was no way we were continuing this after the wedding. We couldn’t. I couldn’t. The past several weeks had screwed me up enough as it was.

Then there was Rose and the baby. We would have to clear the air eventually. I couldn’t keep breaking down the way I was. I would have to eventually tell Evan how much he’d hurt me back then, though I didn’t have the words toexpress it. He needed to hear that I didn’t trust him to understand and couldn’t handle the possibility of being rejected again, the way he’d brushed me aside and treated me like an inconvenience when I told him about the baby. I couldn’t risk finding out he had truly never cared the way I cared about him.

I owed it to myself to set things straight. But now wasn’t the time, not with the wedding so close and so much hanging in the balance.

I would be in and out. We could be professional. He had to know how hectic our schedule was now that we were so close to the end. No doubt he was busy too. We both had more than this single event to manage.

It didn’t matter how many times I told myself to be good and stick to my guns. I couldn’t ignore the way my heart rate spiked as I climbed out of the car after pulling into the lot at the country club. He would be waiting for me upstairs, maybe even watching me from the window. I was no better than a teenager with a crush as I entered the clubhouse, heading straight for the stairs leading to the second-floor offices. My heart beat a little faster with every step, telling me I’d have to force myself to get a grip.

His assistant’s desk was empty when I approached his closed office door. Maybe he was in there with her. I tapped tentatively against the door with my nails, listening for any voices coming from inside. “Come in!” was all I heard, Evan’s voice ringing out loud and clear and maybe a bit tight. Tense.

I eased the door open and found him sitting at his desk, his jacket slung over the back of his chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up. “Come in, make yourself comfortable,” he grunted out, staring at his computer screen.

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