Page 29 of Kiss Away Your Pain (Wounded Hearts 2)

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Enzo

This isn’t quite where I thought our night would go. I don’t usually have conversations like this with women. Not that my conversations with other women are necessarily shallow, I guess I’m just not very invested in them. Candi consumes me, in every way. She’s this beautiful web of independence and vulnerability, delicate yet strong, and sensual in a way that goes beyond sexy.

I don’t talk about my mom with anyone other than Anastasia, and we don’t talk about her much at all anymore. The uneasiness in Candi’s eyes told me it was tough for her to share what she just did. I trust her.

“Yeah, it was weird at first. I was old enough to understand what was happening and also young enough that I was still pretty naïve. It was a confusing time. A part of me wanted to know why she left us and then another part of me was so angry that I didn’t care why she left.” I move my food around on my plate before spearing a piece of fish. “I had so many questions. Didn’t she want our family anymore? Was she sick and didn’t want us to watch her die? Did one of us do something wrong? Didn’t she love us anymore?” Familiar knots twist inside my stomach.

She stops eating and focuses fully on me.

“Dad did his best to fill both roles and Anastasia tried to be a mom to me. But what eleven-year-old girl knows how to do that? I loved her for trying. After a while, it became normal. After years, I stopped wondering.” I put the bite of fish in my mouth, chew, and swallow. Candi waits patiently. “I found her. She didn’t die. She went back to Greece. About five years ago, I hired someone to find her.” My Adam’s apple rubs up and down against my throat as I swallow.

“Did you see her?” she asks softly.

I hang my head, trying to force back the tears burning behind my eyes. “No. I — I’ve been waiting.” I pause, tension clawing up my throat. “Waiting to be successful.” I twist the ring on my finger, knowing I’m full of shit. “So I can show her who I’ve become without her.” I shake my head as I draw in my lower lip. “It’s been five years since I found her. And I don’t know how much longer it’ll be.”

She sits still and listens, absorbing every word.

“And I know. I know that’s filled with spite and anger.” I look down into my hands, twisting my ring, ashamed at my admission. “And in some distorted way, it’s like I want her to be proud of me. I want to shove it in her face that I didn’t need her and I want her to be proud of me at the same time. It makes no sense.” I pause, my heart floating like a cannonball. “I miss her,” I confess, shaking my heavy head. “I shouldn’t. She left us. But —” an awkward chuckle releases as I look up at her, a tear escapes down my face. “I do.” I quickly wipe away the tear. “Shit, sorry about this.”

She reaches over, placing her hand on top of mine. “Please don’t apologize. I’m honored you’re sharing this with me. And what you’ve felt and you’re still feeling is all totally understandable.”

I take a gulp of wine, trying to swallow the emotions that just vomited out of me.What the fuck? I’m finally alone with her and I’m fucking crying. Get your shit together.

“Not to point out the obvious,” she says, her voice gentle. “But, you’re already there. Look around you. You’re pretty damn successful from what I can see.” She pauses, the empathy in her eyes cradling me. “Maybe a little bit of fear is what’s really stopping you.” She shrugs. “And that’s okay.” Her brows come together as compassion coats her words and she squeezes my hand beneath hers.

Well, fuck if she doesn’t see right through me and lay it on the table in front of me with loving grace.

“Heh,” I force my lips into a half-assed smile that drops immediately. “I’m terrified.”

She rubs the top of my hand with her thumb. “I would be too.”

“Maybe I’ll be ready someday.” I clear my throat to keep myself from having an all-out fucking meltdown in front of this woman I’m dying to get to know more about. “We should eat up before our meals get cold.”

A sweet smile lifts her face as she withdraws her hand. “So, tell me more about Anastasia. I always wanted a sibling. Destiny was the closest thing for me and I’m so grateful God brought us together.”

As we finish our meal, I tell her some funny stories about me and Anastasia and what a great sister she is. The mood lightens. Although, I have to admit, she made me feel so comforted earlier.

“Do you want an after-dinner drink before we make dessert?” I ask.

“Makedessert?” Her eyes widen.

“Hell, yeah. I’m putting you to work.” I chuckle. “Besides, nothing beats homemade.”

“What’re we having?” Curiosity sparkles in her big, brown eyes.

“I took a chance. Strawberry shortcake?”

“Oh that sounds enticing.” The delicious groan that accompanies her words makes my dick stir.

“I already have the strawberries cut up and macerating so all we have to do is make the biscuits and whipped cream.” I stand up and grab our plates. “Some whiskey while we bake?”

“Yes, please,” she says, grabbing our wine glasses and napkins, following me into the kitchen.

I rinse off our dishes and load them into the dishwasher then put the frying pan and steamer into the sink and fill them with water.

“Need help?” she asks.

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