Page 7 of The Final Deal

“I’m sorry,” I repeat in a mumble.

Adrian captures my chin and leads my mouth to his, gently kissing me with the reassurance that we’ll find our way. The longer he kisses me, the more the walls tumble down until all I’m left with is the one thing all this bullshit boils down to.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you both so much.”

He kisses my forehead and envelops me in an embrace that’s too warm for this heat, but one I willingly return, anyway. “I love you, too. We both do, princesa.” He gives me a squeeze. “Be a good girl and go home before you turn into a pumpkin, too.”

I pull away from him with a funny look on my face. “I don’t think I like being called that.”

That devilish smirk appears on his face. “What, good girl?”

“Yeah.”

He kisses the hollow of my ear. “If I don’t tell myself you’re a good girl, I’m gonna want to do some terrible things to you.”

I peel myself away with a grin. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Don’t tempt me.”

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” he teases.

The new, black Dodge Durango I spotted when I first arrived is still in the roundabout driveway, parked in front of the Tacoma. It idles with Robbie sitting in the driver’s seat, his elbow resting on the door while he tugs at his beard like he does when he’s bored or anxious, with his phone at his ear.

When I start walking his way, he quickly wraps up the phone call, getting off as soon as I’m at the passenger side window.

The window rolls down. “What’s up?”

I point at the Durango. “Nice ride.”

His eyes wander all over the interior, like he didn’t know he was in a new car, and his expression falls more than it already has.

“Something wrong?”

He refocuses on me. “Nah. Just not used to this, is all.”

“The Dad Mobile?” I joke.

Snorting, he nods. “Yeah. Dad Mobile.”

“Who you been on the phone with?”

“Ah…” He runs his fingers through his light brown hair that touches his ears. “Honestly? Chicago PD.”

When my eyes widen, he offers, “Tainted Memories bullshit.”

“The hell do you have anything to do with it?”

He gives me a look. “Brandy’s their photographer, remember?”

Brandy’s been photographing Tainted Memories for a couple of years now, but with her being pregnant, going on their international tour isn’t an option. Never mind the fact it definitely isn’t happening now that the vocalist’s girlfriend killed herself on stage during a show. And, knowing Taylor, her possessive jealousy over her boyfriend lingers in death, and he’s the one pulling whoever is in his orbit even closer to the sun until they’re burned, too.

I mouth, “Oh.”

He reaches for the gear shift. “Speakin’ of, I gotta git. See ya tomorrow.”

I wave him off, watching him take a left toward his and Brandy’s apartment in town. The Ramos estate is massive and imposing behind me, but it’s also a big tease, daring me to go back inside because it’s home.

I force myself into my car and drive to my actual home, though. No matter how much my chest aches from tearing my heart away from where it belongs.

I’m sorry about the other night

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