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Mr. Fiancé(70)



“I’m sorry,” Mom says, looking at Roxy and me. “I don’t mean to put pressure on you girls. I really don’t. Neither of you ever has to worry about disappointing me. I could never feel that way about either of you. You’re two beautiful, strong women, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Her heartfelt words help, and I come over, kneeling in front of Mom and hugging her. I’m shocked a moment later when Roxy grabs the two of us and hugs Mom too, the tears flowing hard and fast. “I love you both,” Roxy cries before sitting back and wiping at her eyes. “But Mindy . . . if you ever, and I mean ever, pull some shit like that again . . .”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I promise her before suddenly laughing and squeezing her tight. “You too, okay?”

“I won’t,” Roxy promises me. “Still . . . I had my hopes pinned on you guys. You looked so good together.”

“You weren’t the only one, Roxy,” Grandma says. “I swear, Mindy, either there was real feeling between you two or you need to look into acting.”

Grandma’s and Roxy’s words shake me, and I’m on the verge of tears again. The hard part is, I think they’re right, and my chest aches. Roxy puts an arm around me, stroking my hair as I start crying. “Roxy . . . I feel lost.”

“I know, honey,” Roxy says as Mom hugs me too. “I know.”

“I was a fool,” I blubber. “I should have never done it.”

Grandma laughs. “If I had a nickel for every damn fool thing I’d done when I was younger, I’d be rich,” Grandma says. “The big thing is, Mindy, what are you going to do about it now that you’ve made your mistake?”

I cry more until I feel the tears start to dry up. “I’m going to make it up to you guys. I’m so sorry.”

“You do what you can when you feel your heart broken,” Grandma says, standing up painfully and coming over, stroking my hair. “You move on as best you can.”

“Move on?” I whisper, fresh tears coursing down my cheeks. Move on means moving on from Oliver. “What if I don’t want to move on? What if . . . what if I really love him? And what if I told him I hate him?”

“Then have faith that he loves you too, and trust in fate,” Grandma says. “Love finds a way.”

I nod miserably. Love finds a way.

What do you do when you can’t see the way?





Chapter 26





Oliver





I feel like hell, and Anthony gives me a double-take as he gets out of my Audi. At least he listened when I sent him the text last night telling him to skip getting the driver.

“Damn, was it really that fucking bad?” he asks, looking at the cheap discount jeans and t-shirt that I bought after walking to the hotel last night. “I mean, what the hell are you wearing?”

I don’t say a damn thing, and Anthony presses the issue. “Oli, come on, man. Your face looks like you’re sniffing shit.”

Fresh off my flight, I’m not in the mood to hear anything right now. I’m still smarting over Mindy pushing me away. I feel like so much is unresolved. I’ve been kicking myself for hours, cursing myself for being a coward for not dealing with Mindy’s pain and instead walking out on her.

“Hey. You gonna talk? What happened while you were there?”

“Just shut up and drive.”

I look over and see the look on his face. I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I haven’t slept since walking out of the mansion, and I’m going on fifty-five hours awake with only an hour and a half of sleep a day and a half ago.

I just haven’t been able to get her out of my head ever since I left. I kept hoping that she would show up on the flight, that she’d sit down next to me in the first-class seat and we’d have a chance to talk. That maybe I’d get her to listen to what I told her, make her believe me when I said that I do care about her. That I love her.

I look over, shaking my head. “Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just don’t want to talk about it right now, Tony.”

“All right,” he says, surprising me. Usually, when he knows I don’t want to talk about something, he pushes the issue even more. The thought makes my throat tighten again, and I turn away, looking out the passenger window as Tony pulls out. He gets to the airport exit and hangs a left, heading toward the highway back home.

“Mom has been a lot better,” he says, changing the subject. “Her ankle’s all healed up, and she’s already told her boss she’s going to go back to work tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s good,” I reply, glad to have at least some good news.