The Broken One (Corisi Billionaires, #1)(22)

Sex was overrated anyway.





CHAPTER ELEVEN



* * *



SEBASTIAN

Once again her response had been completely appropriate. My only problem with what she’d said was that it made me face my contribution to our exchanges.

My family was right—the past still had a stranglehold on me. I told myself it didn’t, but my conversation with Heather had shot that claim to hell.

I didn’t normally speak to women as if they didn’t know what they were doing—especially not one I was interested in. Usually I brought them pleasure, they brought me pleasure, we both moved on. I didn’t struggle to find the right words or second-guess how I behaved.

I couldn’t understand why it was different with Heather.

Because she had a child?

It felt like more than that.

I left my office early, deciding to drive myself to be alone with my thoughts. I wasn’t surprised when I found myself somewhere I usually only went once a year—my wife’s grave.

I laid my hand on top of her stone and closed my eyes. Five years, Therese. I’m still as sorry today as I was the day I lost you. You wanted to have a child right away, but I convinced you to wait. It’s my fault you never held our child, never had a chance to comfort or scold it. I thought we had more time . . .

My family wants me to move on. I don’t want to.

But holding on is turning me into someone I don’t recognize.

Someone you wouldn’t have loved.

I blinked back tears.

You deserved better than I gave you. So much better.

If I could trade places with you—I would.

If I could go back and do that day over . . . do our marriage over . . . I would do so many things differently.

I went to my knees and sat back on my heels.

What do you want from me, Therese?

I don’t know.

I’ve been with women since you—do you hate me for it?

None of them mattered.

Heather’s image danced in my thoughts.

She has the potential to.

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or the ultimate betrayal of our vows.

I loved you so much.

I thought I was doing what was best for our family—what was best for you.

I’m so sorry, Therese.

Tears ran down my cheeks, and I let them. I’d fought to hold them in for too long. It felt good to let them out.

Eventually, I used her stone to pull myself back to my feet. When I turned, I saw all three of my brothers along with my father leaning against my car. I glanced back at my wife’s grave. “They loved you too,” I said aloud.

I know.

It might have been my imagination, but I would have sworn on my life that she’d answered me. Was the voice in my head just an echo of a memory or a real connection to her where she was? I didn’t know, but I felt lighter when I walked toward my family. Real or imagined, I’d come in search of her permission, and I felt like I’d received it.

“We thought you might be hungry,” Gian said, as if they hadn’t just found me bawling my eyes out.

I nodded. “I am.”

“Mom’s making lasagna,” Christof said while studying my expression.

“How could I miss that?”

My father pulled me in for a back-thumping hug, kissed my head in the way he used to when I was much younger, and said, “You’re a good boy, Sebastian. You’ll be fine.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, then looked over at Mauricio. His expression was far too serious to let it stay that way. “Stop paying people to track me.”

He smiled, shrugged, then walked over to my car. “Better hurry or I’ll be driving.”

“Never going to happen,” I joked as I crossed to the driver’s side. This was our familiar banter, and it calmed me.

We all drove to my parents’ house and enjoyed a multicourse meal with spirited discussions on every topic from politics to the future of the family business. Opinions differed, voices rose, then lowered again when the heat of the moment passed.

Just a regular meal with my family.

No one brought up where I had gone after work.

No one asked me about Heather.

On a full stomach, I sat and watched my brothers argue over which team would win the World Cup. Love for them washed over me. For years I had felt a distance from them that wasn’t there. I had changed; they hadn’t. I remembered my mother saying she’d felt like she’d lost me right along with Therese, but I could come back if I wanted to.

I finally wanted to.





CHAPTER TWELVE



* * *



HEATHER

Three days after I brought Ava to the doctor, I was lying on my couch with a bowl beside me. Every bit of fight in me had been expelled from my body, either into the toilet or into the sink.

The only reason I answered my phone when it rang was because Ava was at preschool and parenting didn’t take a day off. “Hello?” I croaked.

“Is something wrong? Is Ava okay?” Sebastian growled.

I groaned and closed my eyes. I can’t do this right now. “Ava’s fine. All better. I caught a stomach bug from the petri dish of disease that is her pediatrician’s waiting room.”

“Where’s Ava?”