Driven By Fate(58)

Porter stopped stirring, his profile showing his perplexity over the kid’s advice. “You can’t be serious. I’ve put in enough bloody garlic to supply Italy for a week.”

The kid patted his shoulder. “This isn’t Italy, it’s Queens. Add more.” He nodded as Porter blinked at him and started to peel another white clove, then finally noticed Frankie standing in the doorway. “Hiya, Frankie. Hey guys.”

She turned slightly to see her uncle and his buddies crammed into the hallway behind her, arms crossed, but Porter commanded every ounce of her attention after that. His shoulders tensed as he set down the spoon and faced her. “Francesca.”

Not trusting herself to speak or move right away, she could only stand there and soak him in. His huge presence. The fact that he was inside her home in the first place. She didn’t care why, didn’t care what had brought him, just hoped he never left.

“You were there,” she managed. “At my presentation.”

His breath rushed out. “Of course I was there. Of course.” His throat worked while he looked her over as if committing her to memory. “I was so proud of you.”

Oh, God. Would he hold her? Would he?

Frankie wished she’d asked the questions out loud, because he looked suddenly unsure. Unsure of what? She wanted to grab onto him and never let go. “The plan was to have the spaghetti done when you got here.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“Yes.” He took a step in her direction. “It is okay. It’s okay because plans change, don’t they? They change and shift and accommodate, just like you said. You were willing to change yours for me, even if it only lasted a minute—a minute I wish I could go back and live inside because it meant you wanted me.”

Oxygen was trapped inside her lungs, rattling, pushing to get out. She wanted to tell him the minute was never-ending, but he kept going, his heart reflected in his eyes.

“I would never ask you to give up a single one of your dreams, Francesca. I would only ask—no, I’m begging—for you to let me share them. There’s a space beside you and I need to fill it to survive.” He pointed at the floor near her feet. “If you let me stand there, I’ll help you create a home full of children. And I’ll love them all because I’m incapable of not loving anything that makes you happy. I’ll love them because I know I’m capable of loving now.”

Another step closer.

“I’ve been locked away, Francesca. I put myself in a place where I couldn’t fail anyone and no one could touch me, but I couldn’t keep you out. I never, ever, want to try to keep you out again.” He laid a hand over his heart. “I’m in love with you. I’m in love with the way you think, your honesty and convictions, your beauty. I’m so in love. I’ll love everything you allow me to share with you—your friendship, your time, our children. I’ll love you—and them—until I’m out of breath.”

Frankie was certain her body would cave in on itself at any moment. His words kept her standing, though, kept her whole. They always would. He always would. Because no way in hell would she let him go again. “Porter,” she choked out.

He appeared to steel himself. “Yes?”

She shook her head. “This is highly irregular.”

His breath escaped in a rush. “Monocle.”

Frankie dove for him, knowing he would catch her. And he did. He did. Her feet came off the ground as his strong arms banded around her and she was home. Porter was home. Not the one she’d envisioned. Not the one she’d always thought she wanted or deserved.

No. He was better. They were better.

She opened her eyes and realized the tears she’d managed to keep in check since Miami were finally falling, coating her cheeks, soaking the shoulder of Porter’s sauce-stained shirt.

Porter pulled back to look at her face. “Ah. Please don’t break my heart when it’s only just started beating again.”

He kissed her lips, and she pressed close and breathed him in. “I love you, too. I won’t ever stop.”

“Jesus. That ought to mend it.” His voice shook. “I’m sorry for everything. The unforgivable thing I said…letting you leave. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“You’re forgiven.” Her lips found his, kissed, lingered. “Give me forever and you’re forgiven.”

His embrace was crushing, in the best way possible. “Forever with you will go too fast.”

“We’ll think of ways to savor it,” she murmured against his ear, needing him close. So close.

As she’d known he would, Porter scooped her into his arms and carried her from the house. He took her home. Their home.

Their home was wherever they happened to be standing together.





Epilogue


One year later


From his seat across the office, Porter watched his wife work. Not their home office, where he worked alone now. The brightly painted room with Christmas lights draped from the ceiling was Frankie’s Fleet headquarters. They’d rented the space four months ago after spending more than half a year planning the launch of Francesca’s cab service for women, by women. He should be home working, as his publisher had just officially requested a sequel to London Larceny. Little wonder, since his first had made the New York Times bestseller list for hardcover fiction. Yet here he sat, staring at Francesca. His enjoyment of the activity hadn’t lessened a whit over time. Instead his fascination with her seemed to grow the longer he stared.