Page 36 of One Night with Cinderella

“Most women haven’t had their heart broken by both their parents when they were left to grow up in foster care without feeling seen...or loved,” she said softly before forcing a sad smile to her lips at the pity in Choice’s eyes.

Monica thought of Gabe lying to his brothers about his whereabouts last week and how she’d felt slighted—even though she knew she shouldn’t. Somehow that conversation raked up her feelings of self-doubt. Although he was abiding by the perimeters they’d both set, the hurt little girl inside of her felt he was ashamed of his dealings with her and wanted to avoid the disdain his family would feel about him being so closely enmeshed with their former maid.

“Is he seeing anyone else?” Choice asked.

Monica’s breath caught.

Is he?

“That’s none of my business,” she forced herself to say. To truly feel. “If so, she’s doing a horrible job keeping him from my door,” she added.

“Some men just can’t get enough,” Choice said.

“The last thing I need is more heartbreak,” she said more to herself than Choice.

“You had no control growing up, but you have all of it now,” Choice advised.

The waiter refilled her wine and Monica gave him a nod to thank him. “Yes, but the trick is to let my brain stay in control and not my heart,” she said.

“Trust me. I agree, friend,” Choice said, raising her goblet of fruit-infused water in toast to that.

Two weeks later

Gabe awakened with a start. The room was dark, and it took a moment or two to recognize the tray ceiling of his bedroom. He sat up in the middle of the bed and wiped his eyes with his hands as he yawned.

The sound of light snores caused him to freeze. He leaned over left and then right to check on the floor beside the bed. He raised the covers and lifted the pillows. There sat his iPhone, still on speaker with Monica’s name across the top. He chuckled as he picked it up. They’d been talking late into the night and had fallen asleep. Something he hadn’t done since high school.

He frowned and ended the call, staring off into the distance and not really seeing anything.

Monica had happened to call him to ask for advice about her nonprofit at a time when he’d been frustrated by yet another argument between two of his brothers. He revealed to her that the competitiveness in his family was tedious to him and that he desired to reconnect with his love of cooking. He was now curious why he felt the desire to share these things with her.

She had encouraged him to find a balance. To be happy with his life’s decisions. Live with no regrets. Treasure his family. That exchange between them had been natural. Comfortable.

The very idea of that growing ease between them caused him to wrinkle his brow and tumble deep into his thoughts as he turned his head to look out the crack in his curtains at the streetlight outside.

Ding.

Gabe removed the glasses he used for reading and set his book down on the sofa as Monica lifted her feet from his lap so he could rise and walk over to the door. He soon returned with a tray, carrying the carafe of coffee and croissants they’d ordered. He set it down on the leather ottoman before pouring her cup first and adding the creamer and four packets of sugar she always favored.

Monica set aside the folders of materials she was reviewing of office spaces and clerical staff for her nonprofit, which she had yet to name. In turn, she added a thin layer of butter to two croissants just the way she had come to learn he enjoyed them. Moving almost in a rhythm, she handed him the croissants and took the cup of coffee he offered her. She took a deep sip of the steaming light and sweet brew.

He slid his reading glasses back on and smiled as he took a bite of the buttery pastry before taking a sip of his own black coffee. He’d come over for a lunchtime tryst that had extended to a leisurely afternoon on her sofa. Raising his arms, she slid her feet back on his lap, and without a word spoken, they both enjoyed their snack and got lost in their reading.

One week later

“My mother caught one of my brother’s overnight companions in the house,” Gabe said from his seat across from her at her glass dining room table.

Monica took a bite of the spinach, sausage and homemade egg pasta in garlic-tomato sauce he’d made for dinner. “Let me guess? Lucas,” she said, around the food.

Gabe chuckled. “Right,” he said. “Ever since the weight loss, he has been enjoying the extra attention the ladies give him.”

“What did she do?” Monica asked after a sip of white wine.

Nicolette Cress was all about things being done appropriately. The facade of the Cress family and their empire always had to be of a certain caliber.

“She politely escorted the young lady and Luc to the door,” Gabe said.

“And Luc?” Monica asked in surprise.

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