Page 31 of Mending Our Chance

16 Felicity

When Auntie Gi’s apartment was finally empty, it didn’t seem so small or shabby anymore. In fact, I figured with some fresh, tasteful paint, this place could look chic with the right décor. Although the mover had dropped the final piece of furniture, I was glad to see it all go. I ran my tongue over my top lip as I took my final look at Auntie Gi’s last earthly home. All of the plans I had for us were gone. I knew that I would never have been able to give her the lifestyle she craved, but the guilt of that was sloughing off me in thick layers. I knew I had still done right by her, even when I’d been unaware that she was the world’s sneakiest leech. It doesn’t matter, in the end the coffin waits for us all. This dark thought had consumed me all day.

“Do you want to be alone tonight?” Two great, big hands gently settled on my shoulders as a warm presence came around to my back. I leaned into Marcus’ touch aware that he was offering me a chance to escape the darkness, the anger, and the guilt. He had already helped me fight off evil thoughts and I realized that I had found someone to keep me on the straight and narrow.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Given what happened earlier, maybe it is a great idea. Maybe I need to let go, give into my desire.

However, there was one problem. I was already too comfortable with Marcus back in my life. And if I put aside the pain of my aunt’s passing, I had to admit that I didn’t want Marcus to leave, because now that he was back, I wanted him to be a permanent fixture in my life. “I don’t want to complicate this,” I explained further, gesturing to where our bodies touched.

“What’s complicated about keeping each other company?” His voice teased me. And he was right, it had been awhile. We had worked long, hard hours on our business, reeling in a client, with more to come.

“You know damn well what is going to happen the moment we shut the door on your or my apartment,” I hedged.

“Yes, I know exactly what will happen. We’ll keep each other company—keep the spooks away.”

I punched his shoulder blade, but missed because of the height different. “If I go home with you, I’m at risk of losing my panties. We’re just friends right now, right?”

“Would it be so bad to be more?”

“No,” I sighed. “Eventually.”

“Is that a promise? If so, I can be a gentleman tonight.” He caught my fist the second time and gave me a tug so that I was encircled by him. Dipping his head down, he whispered, “Besides, you and I both know that you will just beat yourself up all night if you go back to your place alone.” Marcus began to knead his thumb into my shoulders as he added, “You know I’m right.”

“Is that your tactic? Self-flagellation?”

A ghost of a smile flicked over his face. “I’ve even got the perfect whip.”

There was laughter in his voice, but deep down I heard something that sounded broken, so I changed the topic. “You know, I was beginning to see her clearly toward the end. Ever since the cancer came back following remission, she really let her true colors fly, especially when I told her about the consulting job I took on with you,” I admitted. “I was getting so fed up with her criticism and ingratitude. I guess I wasn’t performing how she expected me to.”

“Well, it was no secret that she never liked me.”

“No.” I squeezed his hand. “She seemed like the perfect aunt, but really, I think she was the reason I broke away from my family. I mean, I know I’m to blame in part. But that letter on the counter, well, it just proves she set Toby and me up, knowing full well I’d take the bait.”

“It wasn’t like she could make you do anything you didn’t want to.” Giving my shoulder a squeeze, Marcus continued, “So you’re not feeling remorse about not saving her, but anger at the fact that she held you back from your family?”

“Yes.” I leaned my head back and looked up at him. “I guess family can hurt you.”

“There’s a difference though.” Marcus broke our gaze to look at the wall. “Sometimes family—or friends—have no choice but to hurt you. And it’s only when it all comes out in the warsh, that you can see what was good and what was stained.” Marcus chuckled at the confusion on my face. He clarified, “It’s like a sliver in your hand. It might hurt pulling it out, but your family knows it would be worse to leave it in and let it get infected.”

“You’re a good shrink, Marcus.” I chewed my lips and thought over his analogy. “What you’re saying is that family should always protect you. They might hurt you in the process, but they shouldn’t manipulate you or intentionally maim you.”

Marcus was making a lot of sense. I would have to rethink everything. So much had happened and instead of facing it, I had made the decision in the past to stick to my position. Maybe I should have opened up and talked to my family, just like I should have talked to Marcus all those years ago. Now that I had told him why I had been so angry, and I had let him back in, we had made progress. The same could be done with my family. I had given Marcus a second chance—I would give my family the same curtesy. And given life was so frail—as evidenced by Auntie Gi’s sudden passing—I should speak my peace as soon as possible, before the guilt could haunt me forever.

Making a snap decision then and there, I chose to go home with Marcus. “Let’s do pizza while we look at market projections at your place. This is not a date, this is a work sleepover.”

I tugged his hand and those long fingers slipped easily between mine. The thrill that coursed through me was too much, and at the first chance I dropped it, lest I do something I shouldn’t.

“You never stop working,” he commented with a note of pride in his voice.

“Hello, pot?” I held up my free hand, imitating a phone to my ear. “This is kettle calling.”

Marcus grinned then swooped us out the door, the cardboard file box of documents under his arm. As he locked it, he asked me about pizza toppings. “Still like mozzarella and fig?”

“I was thinking straight up pepperoni.” I let his silly banter distract me as we dropped the key in a box for the super and left the building. “I feel like a true New York slice, rather than a real pizza.”

He laughed then—a deep belly roll. “So, you admit Americans can make pizza too?”

“I admit nothing.” I grinned back at him. “If we want the real thing, we would have to find a Napolitano.”

“Fine, but we’re getting a whole pie. I need more than just a slice.”

“I would expect nothing less.” I strode out into the streets and considered grabbing his hand again. It was instinct. But we weren’t dating—yet. We were flirting on the edges, and I knew I was soon to give in. I crossed my arms to avoid the temptation and smirked back at him as I added, “Besides, I’m famished.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The sudden heat from his eyes was overwhelming. I walked quickly to avoid his reach, no longer feeling winter’s frozen blast. Oh my, what am I doing?

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