Beauty and the Baller(73)

“I don’t want to hear about you and Paisley. I don’t care,” I say sharply, banked emotion rising higher. “You came to me. You flew to New York to beg me back; you got on your knees and looked in my eyes. You promised it would work. And when I woke up the next morning, you were gone—like a coward.”

His face falls. “I know . . . you said we could try again, but you saw me and Paisley. I knew you’d never forget it.”

“You wanted your daddy’s money,” I mutter.

“And I’ve been unhappy ever since!” he shouts, then sobers, breathing rapidly. “God. I’m sorry. I just . . . I don’t regret the time I’ve had with Brandy—I love my little girl—but if I could have had you both, I would have, Nova. I loved you.”

I look away from him.

I’m glad he left. Marrying him would have been a horrible mistake.

“Seeing you here at school that first day . . . it was like the sunshine came back. Nova, I still love you. I never stopped.” He moves to take my hands, and I’m so shocked by his words that I let him.

I frown as I take him in—the earnest face, the burning intensity in his topaz eyes. I recall that first day I walked in the school, how devastated I was to see him . . . I’ve wondered over the past weeks if maybe I still carry a torch for him in my heart . . .

“I don’t feel that way about you, Andrew. That part of my life is over.”

“You cared about me once. Just . . . forgive me. If you could let it all go, then maybe, I don’t know, there might be a chance . . .” He searches for words. “I know it’s crazy, but . . . you came back home. That means something. What if it was always meant to be us?”

A wave of feelings hits me as he twines our hands together.

His double betrayal has eaten at me for years, tiptoeing down the hallways of my head, digging its claws into me. I’ve used his sins as a shield of protection, painting men with the same brush. I wasted so much time thinking about him when I could have had real relationships.

Forgive him?

When he changed who I was inside?

I swallow thickly.

But . . .

Forgiving is for you, Mama used to say.

I glance away from him, my head tumbling.

It’s been years . . .

What happened, happened. We can’t change it.

In the end, he did me a favor.

And the idea that he and I were meant to be? Unbidden, a smile slips over my face. Fate didn’t bring me to Blue Belle for Andrew . . . it was Ronan. I believe that, as sure as Mama’s roses are yellow, as sure as I love Sabine. The odds of us meeting again were too tiny, too impossible. What we do with those chances, well, that’s up for debate— “Nova?” He’s moved closer to me, cutting off my train of thought.

I glance at him and blink, refocusing.

He squeezes my hand, and clarity arrives like a rush. Letting go of the hurt doesn’t mean I have to forget, but it does mean when I see him in the hall, I can smile and mean it.

“I forgive you.”

“And us? Why not try?” His eyes shine down at me.

“I’m with Ronan, and I care about him.” Truth.

I recall the feeling when we met, as if we’d already had a hundred conversations before, as if our souls saw a commonality. I love his scars, his geekiness, his stark vulnerability . . .

Being with him, even though he’s still finding out who he is and what he needs, is like peeking into possibilities. He said I deserve better, and I get where he’s coming from—a place of incredible loss, and climbing that mountain isn’t easy—but I’m not one to give up easily.

Mama raised me to believe there’s a tiny light inside everyone, a wonderful place of possibilities for your life. It’s up to you to find your “glow” and turn those possibilities into certainties.

Make the impossible real. Reach for the stars, even if they burn, Nova.

I blink. Wow. I haven’t thought about her “glow” idea for a long time. Why now?

Because . . . I love Ronan. Deeply. It may have started in New York, but now that I’ve seen who he really is—a flawed man who cares and loves intensely . . .

“Nova?”

He’s been saying something, and I’ve missed it. “Go on,” I say, my tone distracted.

“Ronan isn’t staying here.”

My stomach drops. “I know.”

“And he calls you babe. You hate that word.”

I frown. Where is he going with this?

“And when you call him darling, your accent kicks in.” He touches my cheek. “There’s something fishy. You’re barely in town, and then suddenly you’re dating the one guy who hasn’t shown interest in anyone? And the way you act in the teachers’ lounge is strange, almost as if you wanted to rub it in my face.”

“I did.” A small smile curls my lips, and he huffs out a laugh.

“So you do feel something for me, then?”

Regret. The energy I wasted. The insecurities I allowed.

He bends his head, and before I can move, he presses his lips to mine— The door swings open, and he’s pulled roughly away.

I gasp, stepping back.

With a flushed face, Ronan grinds his jaw as his hands clench, then open.

“I should fuck you up right here,” he hisses as he shoves Andrew in the chest. “But this is school property, and I don’t want to be arrested for putting you in the hospital. Keep your hands off Nova.”