Page 76 of Forbidden Vows

A woman bumps hips with me at the counter. I glance over, unsure who she is. She smiles at me and says, “How about that coffee date? Is now a good time?”

“No.” I look away, grabbing my cup from the counter. “And I don’t think we’ll be having that coffee. Ever.”

She briefly hovers in shock before saying, “Oh. Um. Okay,” and scurries off.

Shit. I shouldn’t have passed my pain around like that. But maybe it’s a good thing. The sooner word gets out I’m an angry grump who despises women, the better. There’s only one girl in this world whose attention I crave.

And she’s gone.

I slouch down into a seat at an open table. I end up stirring the cream into the coffee for about five minutes before Irealize what I’m doing. I sip the strongly caffeinated beverage, but it does nothing to help. I’ve lost Cleo, my drug of choice, and nothing can replace her.

A sweet voice interrupts my sadness. “Hey there.”

I look up.

Cleopatra stands in front of me, dressed in the same white lace dress she wore that day at my brother’s wedding. The light from the café window illuminates her like an angel.

I can’t believe it. It can’t be her…

I didn’t know depression could cause hallucinations, but here we are.

Then she speaks.

“Did you leave this for me?” She hands me a slip of paper.

I’m still in shock, unsure she’s really here in the flesh. Lack of sleep and too much caffeine aren’t helping, and I don’t say anything or even greet her. I take the note, opening it with shaky fingers.

I’m staring down at my own handwriting.

When I’m with you, I become the version of myself I never knew existed until you—the man I want to be.

When I’m with you, I’m home.

Please, come home.

It’s the note I left at the bottom of her suitcase. The one I almost didn’t write. I fold it in half, handing it back to her. “It felt…important to say.”

“I know exactly what you mean, about being home.” Leaning down, she grabs my hands. Her knees brush mine. Her skin is warm. Her touch brings me out of my dazed state. She’s really here. And she says, “You’re my home, too.” Her words make everything suddenly right in the world. She tugs at me, gesturing for me to stand. “When I was here with you, I was happier than ever.”

“Same.” Tears fill my eyes as I rise from the chair. I wrap my arms around her, bringing her close and burying my face in her hair, inhaling her smell, her warmth. “God. I’ve missed you, Cleopatra.”

“I missed you, too,” she whispers against my chest. “We’re silly, though. It’s barely been a few days.”

“A few days of separation is a century when you love someone,” I say.

She stares up at me, beaming. “You love me?”

“Yeah. I do,” I confess. “Have for a while now.”

“For how long?” she demands. “Tell me.”

My stomach knots with nerves. Can I fess up to how long it’s been?

A fucking phone better not go off this time.

“I’ve loved you for a really, really long time.” Instantly, I feel like a burden has been lifted. It feels so good to tell her. I stare down at her, bringing my love into the open. “I was always attracted to you, but then we were apart. We grew up. Then, that day in the back of the church?—”

“Haze’s wedding.”

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