Chapter Seven: The Woman Who Stayed
Maya was waiting in his kitchen.
She’d let herself in with the key he’d given her last week. She was standing at the stove, stirring something that smelled like garlic and onions and home.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
She didn’t turn around.
“I figured you’d be hungry after dealing with—whatever that was.”
Randall leaned against the doorframe.
“You heard?”
“Your walls are thin.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Also, I’m a surgeon. I’m trained to eavesdrop on conversations that aren’t any of my business.”
Randall almost smiled.
“Annie’s gone.”
“I know.”
“She’s getting help. Or she says she is.”
“That’s not your problem anymore.”
Maya turned off the stove. She walked toward him, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her face was close now. Close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
“Randall.”
“Yeah?”
“I need you to hear something. And I need you to hear it without arguing.”
He nodded.
“I loved you. Twelve years ago, I loved you with every cell in my body. And when you chose Annie—when you walked away from me—I told myself I’d never forgive you.”
She touched his chest. Right over his heart.
“But I also told myself that if you ever came back, if you ever figured out what really mattered, I’d give you one more chance.”
Her hand dropped.
“This is that chance. Don’t waste it.”
Randall didn’t speak.
He couldn’t.
He just pulled her close and held her. Felt her heartbeat against his chest. Remembered what it felt like to be home.
Not the house.
Not the city.
Her.
