“Heading home?” He eyed my suitcase. “Time for a quick coffee?”
I shook my head. Jake might be over, but teeny twinges of guilt nipped at me. What the heck was I doing, flirting with Christophe the morning after indulging in a one-night stand with Jake? Now my ears burned.
“That’s a shame.” He stepped closer and pressed a business card into my hand. “If you’re up for an adventure sometime, give me a call.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Safe travels, Amara. Hope I hear from you soon.”
I clutched the card in my damp palm, watching until he disappeared around the corner. Call? Maybe. Maybe not. One thing was for sure; no Christophe until I banished my ex-boyfriend from my heart, or anything that might develop was doomed before it began. After tucking his card into my bag, I turned, managing three steps toward the sliding glass doors.
Jake loomed in my path. “You’re leaving?”
“Not that it’s your business, but yes, Jakob, I am.” I sidestepped, scooting around him, hoping to avoid an awkward, stilted goodbye. Only a few more steps, and I’d be through the escape hatch, never to return.
“Can you wait? For a minute?”
Nope. No chance. The heels of my ankle boots tapped on the tile, my pace quickening as I spotted a black sedan pulling up to the curb.
“One damn minute.” Jake caught my hand. “Please. That’s all I want from you.”
“Fine. One minute.” I lifted my chin. “Use it wisely.”
He tugged me toward the small seating area at the side of the lobby. “This morning wasn’t my finest moment. I feel completely shitty for how that went down.”
Here came the kiss off, but that had been inevitable all along. To believe otherwise would only be me deluding myself.
That damn wedding ring glinted as he swept his fingers through his hair. “Last night was incredible. Or it was, until the part where I-I …” He scrubbed open palms across his face.
Fucked up badly? Damn, damn. Now he was looking at me with those sad puppy eyes, twisting my emotions, this way, then that way. It would never end with this guy. “You lost your wife. You’re sad and lonely. You needed someone in your bed. I get it. It was only one night.” I cupped his face. “Call this weekend what it was. Closure. Goodbye, Jakob.” Those words about tore my soul right from my body, but it was the right thing. I stretched and kissed him, caressing that sexy scruff, then turned to go.
“Mar.” He caught my hand again. “You didn’t let me explain.”
I pressed two fingers to his lips, then bowed my head to hide my burning eyes. I brushed my index finger over his wedding band. “This tells me everything I need to know.” Keeping my head down, I pulled away and headed through the exit, blinking hard.
“Ms. Grant?” The driver opened the car door as I nodded.
I slid into the leather seat, clutching my purse in my lap as the man stowed my bag in the trunk. Moments later, we merged into traffic, ending my second trippy out-of-body experience. I’d finally said my long-overdue goodbye to Jakob Miguel Cavallaro.
Chapter 5
When my phone rang and my mother’s number appeared on the call display, I continued my task of dicing onion, swaying slightly and humming along to the playlist. As the rings faded to silence, I tossed the pile of veggies and garlic into the pot, enjoying the satisfying sizzle as I stirred.
Not hearing from my mom for a full seven days was unprecedented in recent history, but I figured going to the wedding had earned me a reprieve. However it had happened, I planned to enjoy it. Unfortunately, she was not going down without a fight—or at least an annoying amount of persistence, as my phone bleated once, telling me about my new message, and then rang again.
I loved Mama. I did. It was the focus of this conversation I wasn’t looking forward to. The questions I feared were coming.
I rinsed my hands and then wandered toward the patio, stabbing at the screen of my phone with my index finger. “Hi, Mama.”
“There you are. I haven’t heard from you for weeks.”
I perched on the edge of the wicker deck chair. “It’s been less than two. I’ve been busy.”
“I’d hoped you’d come our way while you were in Toronto.”
“Next time.” The drive to my parents’ house was two hours from downtown Toronto on a good day, and this trip, I was unable to justify either the extra time off from work or the extra expense of a rental car. “How’s Dad?”
“The usual.” She sighed.
Ahh, my father was watching TSN, sinking ever deeper into the cavern he’d worn into the seat of his ratty beige recliner. One day he’d disappear entirely, never again to be seen. How she’d resisted smothering that cranky old man with a pillow boggled my mind. Maybe that day wasn’t so far off.
“Who are the Leafs playing?”
“No idea. You know I don’t watch sports.” Then her voice perked up. “How was the wedding? Did you see Jakob?”
“It was lovely. It was great to see the girls. Dara looked beautiful, and so happy.”
“And your Jakob?”
I blinked and focussed on the spectacular view of the Lions Gate Bridge and the faint outline of Vancouver Island beyond. “The decor and flowers were amazing.” I cringed, imagining what that comment would unleash.
“If only you’d let me arrange your ceremony.” About now, her eyelashes would be fluttering, the usual dreamy expression reserved for discussions revolving around Jakob Cavallaro and weddings drifting across her face. “Piles of flowers, miles of lace and tulle.” She sighed. “All at the Palais Royale. Jakob would have been so hand—”
“Don’t start—”
“Why you married that other guy”—her tone frosted over, her lip surely curling—“when you could have had Jakob, I will never understand.”
“Kyle, Mama. His name is … never mind …” I massaged my temples with my thumb and index finger. The ultimate irony. Enduring her judgmental comments about
