Not a brief embrace.
An actual hug.
The kind that saysI'm hereandyou matterandI'm not letting go.
I can't remember.
Antonella doesn't handle me with kid gloves.
She holds me like I'm whole.
My arms move without permission. Wrap around her waist. Pull her closer. Tighter.
She makes a small sound against my neck.
I just hold on.
The pressure behind my eyes builds. Burns. Threatens to spill over.
I bury my face in her hair. Breathe in jasmine and warmth andher.
And I hold on.
Because I've missed this.
God, I've missed this.
The simple human contact. The comfort of another body against mine. The feeling of being held instead of handled. Wanted instead of tolerated. Chosen instead of endured.
Antonella's hand moves to the back of my head. Her fingers thread through my hair. She holds me the way I'm holding her.
Like she needs this too.
Like she's been starving for it just as long as I have.
We stay like that.
In the back of the SUV.
Outside an orphanage I fund to ease my guilt.
Two broken people holding each other together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Antonella
"What about chocolate?" Kristen flips through the bakery catalogue spread across the kitchen island. "Everyone loves chocolate."
"Bruno doesn't have a sweet tooth." I lean over her shoulder, scanning the options. "He barely touches dessert at dinner."
"Then why are we planning a birthday cake?"
"Because it's his birthday." I smile. "And because he deserves something normal. Something that isn't business or family drama or?—"
"Brooding in his room?"