Page 79 of Falling for You Again

“It doesn’t have to be like this. We can make it work. She isn’t asking me to marry her.”

Not yet, but I’m sure Kaye will make it her mission to change Fallon’s mind.

I lift my hand. “Please stop.”

He stares at me, his cheek flexing in anger. Then his nostrils flare. He grabs the pen and yanks out the papers. He doesn’t bother reading the document. Nash said he already had. Aaron signs where it’s marked and returns the papers to the envelope, drops the pen on top, and pushes the envelope to my side of the table.

The relief I expected to feel doesn’t come, remaining offshore.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

He doesn’t say anything back. He doesn’t look at me either. He just stares out the window, his eyes hard and jaw clenched.

That’s it, I guess. The end of us. Again.

I push down the words that surface from habit.See you later. Text me when you get home.And the ones that come that aren’t from habit. The ones I’m not brave enough to say, even though I would really mean them.I love you.

I put the pen away and pick up the envelope, push back my chair, and stand.

“Meli.” Aaron’s head lifts. His eyes bore into mine and my heart jumps hurdles. “I’ll never stop thinking about you.”

My breath hitches.

He said those exact words right before our first divorce.

Like the first time, I don’t repeat them back.

Unlike the first time, walking away is immensely difficult. But I do, and on my way out, the cheery little bell above the door rings out as a hollow thud. And when I step outside from under the awning, a seagull poops on my shoulder. Turd oozes over the swell of my boob.

“Great,” I mutter.

The weather didn’t clue in, but somebody above understands exactly how I feel right now. Like crap.

Chapter 24

The Rhythm of Falling Leaves

I direct Emmett and Vincent to shift Isadora’s 92-inch live-edge walnut dining table a few inches more to the right until the piece is perfectly centered between her remodeled kitchen and great room. There is enough space on all sides for her large family of siblings, nieces, and nephews to gather round for holiday dinners and family celebrations, exactly how Isadora imagined when I first showed her the design.

Emi did a spectacular job designing Isadora’s open-concept kitchen with its brushed-gold hardware, wide-plank flooring, and stained, rustic beams exposed overhead that complement the repurposed wood in the fireplace mantel as well as the kitchen cabinets. The table’s arrival adds the finishing touch by pulling the three spaces together: kitchen, dining, and great room. The entire living area opens to a backyard bursting with color that spills down to the edge of the Charles River.

Outside, Isadora’s Italian greyhounds, Sophia and Loren, jump on hind legs, their nails scratching at the glass door as they bark exuberantly at me and my moving team. Isadora snaps her fingers and issues a harsh command in Italian. The dogs promptly sit, whining their frustration over being excluded from the excitement inside.

“Anything else, Meli?” Vincent asks, rubbing his large hands together.

I glance at Isadora for confirmation that we’ve placed the table exactly where she wants it. “Perfetto,” she announces, pleased, and I say to Vincent, “I think we’re good. Thanks, guys. I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow.” I’ve hired them to help move our tools into storage.

“You got it.” Emmett shakes my hand, and with a wave from Vincent, they leave the house.

I wipe the table of dust collected during transport and polish the entire surface of fingerprint smudges while Isadora arranges the dining chairs she ordered around the table.

“You have outdone yourself, Meli,” she praises in a thick Italian accent. “Your table is more beautiful than I imagined.”

“It’s your table now.”

“I’m so pleased Emi referred you.”

“I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon. When you’re ready, she wants to send over her team to take photos for Stone & Bloom’s portfolio. Shae and Tam are excellent. You’ll love their work, so make sure you get copies of the pictures.”

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