Page 107 of Meet Me in Montreal

“See you.”

A tear was rolling down her cheek when she got behind the wheel and her tremulous smile was killing him, fucking slaughtering him. He shut the door for her, then held up a hand as she drove away.

Before wild regret could claw at him, before darkness could descend upon him, he stiffened his spine and went back into the house to take care of that list. But when the phone rang and her name appeared on the screen barely ten minutes later, he couldn’t answer it fast enough.

“Did you leave something?” he asked, holding his breath.

“Yes. You.” It sounded like she was crying. “I mean, I want you to be safe, and I know I keep walking away from us and maybe this will sound like I’m toying with you and I’m selfish, but I don’t want you to go that far away. Not from me.”

He sat down heavily on the couch, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

Quietly, he said, “Vanessa. We’ve broken each other’s hearts so many times. I don’t think I could take it if it happened again. I just couldn’t. What do you wantfrom me? What do youwant?”

Suddenly, in the face of his question, she blurted out, “I know I don’t have the right to ask you to change your plans for me at this point. I’m not your wife anymore because I asked you to let me go. And I know how this probably sounds becauseI’m jobless and I’m out here on these streets, if you can call a mansion in Chappaqua the streets.” He had to grin at that while she continued her rambling speech. “Maybe I don’t completely have a grip on this insecurity thing yet like I wanted to, but I really miss you. I miss talking to you every day, I miss your face and your terrible singing in the shower. I miss you following me around in your cousin’s car, even though I didn’t even know you were doing it at the time.”

The words were like a splash of ice water on his back. “How do you know about that?”

“Fucking Zoe told me that time she set fire to the house.” She laughed, a breathless sound that caught in her throat. “She was following you following me. You don’t even want to know some of the other stuff she said. It was really gross. But not that part. That was the good part, the best part. I don’t even care if it was illegal and crossed boundaries because it was you, watching over me like my own toxic guardian angel.”

She knew.She knew about the depths of his compulsion, his obsession, and it still didn’t faze her. She wanted more of it, more of him. Wanted his true self, the righteous and the wrong. He closed his eyes, hanging on every crazy beautiful word.

“But I know you can’t stay in New York because it’s not safe for you here and that’s because of me. And I don’t want to go to Italy with you, not yet, because if we’re around people before we’re solid, things might get fucked up again, so…so…let’s try somewhere else. I want a do over. I’ll buy you a ticket. It’s mostly your money, but I’ll buy it.” Santino grinned again at that, his heart melting down and spreading through him like molten gold. “We can stay in a janky hotel and eat greasy food all day, and it’ll be wonderful. Don’t answer me now if your answer is ‘no,’ but I want to marry you again.”

“Tesoro…” His heart was thudding, his body was a bonfire, a blaze, high and bright enough to light the world.

She was now openly crying and still talking a mile a minute. “I swear I haven’t been drinking anything since I left your ugly house, no punch or wine or anything. I just wanted you to know that if you want to marry me again too, that would be really cool. But don’t answer me right now. I’m a fucking mess, but I love you so, so much. I need to get off this phone.”

Abruptly, she hung up, leaving him staring at the blue wall in absolute shock. Maybe ten minutes later, he got a text. It was a forward, a reservation that had been booked in his name departing from JFK the next morning.

Her personal note was above the link: “Café Fleurs, 12 noon day after tomorrow EST. Bet you 5 grand you’ll show. You’re my hero. Biggest dick, giver of plenty of O’s, future father of my babies with big blond afros. My best friend in the whole world. If you don’t want that anymore, okay, I understand. I still love you. I will love you forever. Till the day I die. Your tesoro.”

“What the hell was that?” Santino blurted out with a watery laugh.

His head was spinning, his blood pulsing, and he was suddenly so dizzy. He was a rocket threatening to take off into the stratosphere. It took him all of ten seconds to decide. Then he called Dom.

“Yo. Just wanted to let you know there’s gonna be a change of plans.”

Santino walked inside the gates of Café Fleurs at twelve o’clock exactly. Montreal was all blue skies and mellow golden sun. Everything pretty and flowering was still in bloom, even though the air was no longer full of music from the other cafes, bars and parks. If there was any music, it was coming from insidethe house, from the heavy beats of his heart, notes of excitement building toward a crescendo with every step.

He wasn’t wearing a button down and slacks for this occasion. He’d save the suit he’d brought for later. The same waiter who’d greeted him the last time was at his side, asking if he needed a table. But Santino had already sought and found his intended companion with the long curls, sitting at the same table wearing a blue shirt and hip-hugging jeans. She looked amazing. More than amazing. She was heaven in human form.

But Heaven was twisting her fingers together on top of the table, eyes down, staring at a closed paperback. Then slowly her eyes lifted and met his. He watched as a smile blossomed on that sweet mouth, and that dimple appeared.

Vanessa stood. As he walked to her, chest heaving, everything inside him unfolded, broke open wide to the joy that awaited, to the future she offered in those eyes so full of love it took his breath away. This time, she met him halfway.

“You came.” Her voice hitched, and her dark eyes shimmered with tears as she smiled. “I guess I owe you that five grand, huh?”

“Damn right, you do,” he whispered as she slid into his arms and he held her tight. “I love you, too.Mio tesoro.”

Finally.

Home.

37

EPILOGUE: EUPHORIA

VANESSA

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