I stood and set the pizza box on his dresser before returning to face him, hoping he’d talk to me. The therapist was supposed to be helping him on that front—not keeping secrets from a place of fear I wouldn’t accept him.
“A lot happened back home.” He gripped the nape of his neck and squeezed, his gaze returning to mine again, and I reached for his free hand and laced our fingers together. “With the Brambilla case pretty much over, my brothers and Hudson have decided to work together again. But in a different way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Start a security company to help those in need.” He paused. “Less vigilantism and more by-the-book-type stuff. Well, for the most part. They’ll continue to work at the family business, too. Because their security work will be without pay.”
“Oh, wow.”
“I also saw Jesse today.” He let go of his neck and motioned toward the bed, and we sat, hands still linked. “Now that Jesse’s team is done with handling the rest of the clients from the cleaner’s list, he was able to come up and chat. Offer some guidance on how things work at his security company, Falcon Falls.”
“And you were part of that conversation because . . .” My heartbeat kicked up as I waited for him to answer.
“I’m not leaving here. Not leaving you.” He shifted on the bed, cupping my chin with his free hand. “Don’t worry.”
“But do you want to help them? I mean, work with them from time to time?”
“I’m happy here with what I do.”
That look in his eyes, though. “My inability to lie and hold a straight face is rubbing off on you.” I took a second to gather my thoughts. “You spent so much of your life fighting bad guys, and I know you love to cook, but if you’re meant to help others, too, I won’t stand in your way.”
“Maria.” His broody look softened. “I love you, I . . .” His voice trailed off as he closed one eye, realizing he’d slipped up.
I couldn’t help but smile. “And I love you, which is why I’ll support you no matter what. If you want to go on missions here and there, save the world, then you should. The sous-chef at the restaurant has learned a lot from you. He can handle things when you’re not here. You can have both.” I shrugged. “You can have it all. I do.”
“You do?” He tipped his head to the side.
“I have my daughter. My family nearby. A good job that I enjoy. And a man I love wholeheartedly. I feel complete. Happy.” I chewed on my lip, knowing there was one thing I was missing. “I mean, I would like to make love again. I have a list I’d love to check off, and my patience sucks, but—”
He cut me off with his mouth, his tongue sliding between my lips as his hand went from my chin into my thick, curly hair.
“I have a list, too,” he said after pulling back, our lips nearly touching.
“You do, do you?”
He smiled. “I do. But you’ll have to wait a bit before I share it.”
“Ugh.” I groaned. “You love to torture me.”
“Like you haven’t done the same every hour of every day for the last month.” A dark, sexy grin slipped across his face so fast, I nearly missed it.
“And you loved every second, don’t lie.” I let go of his hand to place my palm over his heart, finding it slow and steady. The beats a comforting rhythm.
“I’ll think about the second job,” he said after quietly staring at me. “We can discuss it again later. I don’t need to say yes now. But there’s more I want to share with you about my day.”
He let go of me and was back on his feet. He went over to the uncorked bottle of wine and filled our glasses. Ryan’s uncle owned a winery in Tuscany, and it was his label of Chianti Enzo had brought with him tonight.
“My family went to visit Bianca at the cemetery this afternoon before I flew home.”
His words had me standing, my heart now feeling as though I were fighting for my life. “Are you okay?” Dumb question. Why would you be?
He turned, armed with the two glasses, his brows slanting as if unsure how to answer. “I think so, yes.” He handed me a glass, and he took a small sip, and I did the same, hoping to calm my nerves. “I brought Bianca’s unedited story with me and read it there.”
Oh jeez. Now I was going to cry. But I did my best not to, because I didn’t want him having to comfort me when I wanted to be the one there for him.
“You already know the parts printed in the magazine,” he began, his eyes on the wineglass. “That she bumped into him at a coffee shop one Friday, spilling her coffee on him. They wound up chatting. And then he started going there every day at the same time hoping to run into her, even though it was out of his way and not his normal spot.”