Page 101 of Disarming Caine

But I hadn’t seen her again. She left—like everyone else did—just not by choice.

“I met this really great guy. You would have liked him.” I moved the snow around between my feet, dragging my boots to clear a space in front of her gravestone. “He’s smart and funny, super-talented, and he…”

I blew into my gloved hands, cupping them over my nose to warm it up. The sky was thick with clouds, which held in a little warmth, but not nearly enough. The temperatures had plummeted that evening, falling well below freezing.

“He told me some stuff today that I’m not sure I can handle. Think you can give me some advice?” I chuckled at the ridiculous question, which slowly evolved into a quiet sob. I looked up to the branches of the leafless trees dotting the cemetery, blinking away tears.

Did his confession change anything for me? For us? Obviously, things were different, but how? How could I get past knowing what he’d done? Not knowing—guessing and assuming. Those strong hands being used to hurt and destroy, rather than to comfort and create.

“I guess I should catch you up first, shouldn’t I?” I held up a hand and lifted a finger for each awful point of my life. “First, I left the FBI. Second, I married Matt. Third, I got a divorce. Fourth, I left town. Fifth, Cass got sick and I came home.”

Seven years of my life, and all it took was a single hand to summarize it.

“But then—” I held up the other hand and started counting. “—I met Antonio, we started dating, broke up, and I flew to Naples to make up with him. He’s been there since September, but came home for Christmas to surprise me.”

I dropped the hands back into my pockets, clenching and releasing them to keep the blood flow going. Coming out here wasn’t one of my smarter ideas. At least, not in work dress. I should have put on something warmer, but I’d torn out of the Ferraro’s office and driven aimlessly for an hour before winding up with Mom.

“There’s no way you would have thought I’d date this guy.Ididn’t even think I would. He’s loud and charismatic, loves joking about everything. But, Mom—” I leaned closer to the stone and lowered my voice. “—he’s an art conservator. Can you believe that? And he keeps telling me he’s going to marry—”

My throat closed over, and the first tears spilled over, down my cheeks. I sniffled, bringing in a gush of cleansing, frigid air.

“But he’s got a past, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Don’t we all?” A deep voice sounded behind me and I spun around. Nathan’s boots crunched in the snow as he approached. How hadn’t I heard him?

“Fucking Christ, Nathan! What’s your problem?” I kicked snow in his direction and quickly wiped at my eyes while he was distracted.

Surprisingly, he didn’t throw any of it back. Instead, just brushed off his long navy jacket and stopped next to me. I hadn’t heard his car, so he must have parked on the main road like I did. And those weren’t boots. He was in dress shoes, so this stop must have been as spontaneous as mine. “How’s Mrs. Caine doing this afternoon?”

“Not very chatty.” I stared at the gravestone, sniffling again, turning away from him enough to clear my last tears.

He reached an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. My head fell to his shoulder, then I turned into him, burying my face against his jacket. He wrapped me in his arms and held tight, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “What did the Italian do this time?”

I pulled my hands out of my pockets to hug him back. His dislike of Antonio was probably what I needed at that moment. It would help me stay angry.

Nathan released me and took my face in his hands, the low sun glinting off his deep blue eyes as they flicked back and forth between mine. “Shit. You talked to Elliot, didn’t you?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “He gave me the tip of the iceberg, and Antonio gave me the rest.”

“Now you’re sinking.” He leaned in to kiss my forehead and pulled me against him before I could come up with any response.

But yeah, I was sinking. The voice inside me that kept saying Antonio was too good to be true had been right all along. “How can I be with a man who’s involved in something like that, Nathan? It goes against everything I believe in. What I wanted to devote my life to.”

He rubbed my back and let out a long sigh. “You remember that jerk who stood you up on prom night?”

I stepped out of the hug to see him clearly. Strange question. But the memory filled my chest with warmth. “Yeah. You dropped everything and drove from Ann Arbor to take me.”

“And the jackass who strung you along for months, telling you he was going to move to the States for you? Who didn’t bother to tell you he’d landed a job in Italy until you flew over there to help him pack?”

“You tried getting him on the No Fly List,” I chuckled.

“I could have, if you hadn’t stopped me.” The corner of his lip twitched, and he grabbed my hands. “And the asshole who divorced you for someone else?”

“You took me out drinking, and I passed out on your couch. Tina was pissed.” His wife—now ex-wife—had still made me breakfast once my stomach was up for it.

“And the prick—” His face grew hard, lips and eyes tight. “—who lied to you about that painting and broke your heart?”

I pulled my hands away, turning back to the gravestone. That memory pushed the warmth aside, still raw despite everything Antonio and I had been through since then. Or because of it. “You drove out to pick me up and sucker-punched him.”

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