Arianna stared at the piles of Tupperware containers and plastic-wrap-covered dishes and platters on the kitchen counters. The cupboards, refrigerator, and freezer were jam-packed, thanks to the man knocking on their front door. She knew it was Connor not only by the confident knock but because he’d called earlier and talked to her grandmother to arrange a time to come over today.
Glamma loved him now that he’d promised to take care of the insurance claim. Arianna didn’t. And if Glamma knew half of what people in town were saying about the two of them, thanks to Connor sharing their private business, she wouldn’t have the warm fuzzies for the man. He certainly wouldn’t be standing on their front porch knocking on the door. He might very well be six feet under.
The knocking continued. A part of her wanted to throw open the door and tell Connor exactly what she thought of him, while the other part of her wanted to crawl back into bed and go to sleep. Except he was so annoyingly persistent he’d probably stand there all night, drawing the attention of their nosy and interfering neighbors. The thought made up her mind. She strode to the front door, slowing as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the entry table.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and she was wearing pajamas. She tilted her head to the side, looking at herself through his eyes. The gray fleece top and bottoms could pass for sweats. Even her hair could pass for workout hair instead of bedhead. She considered slipping on a pair of sneakers to complete the subterfuge but didn’t have the energy to hunt them down.
She walked to the door, taking a moment before opening it. She had to prepare herself before she saw his face. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d spent years nurturing her anger toward him. One full-on, close-up look at his gorgeous face was all it took to turn back time.
As she’d noticed the other day, the years had been kind to him. If possible, he was even more attractive. Time had etched faint lines at the corners of his vibrant blue eyes and bracketed his mouth, adding more character to his too-handsome face. His hair was as thick and as dark as she remembered, only now it was obvious a talented—and no doubt expensive—stylist cut his raven-black locks. Lucky stylist, she thought, remembering how his hair had felt sliding between her fingers and over her body when he…
“Are you insane, you ridiculous woman?” she whispered to her reflection, rolling her eyes when the knocking turned to pounding.
“Arianna, if you don’t open up, I’m calling the police.”
She stormed to the door, fighting to get it open with her left hand. Finally, the knob turned, and she wrenched it open. “Have you not embarrassed us enough? Or is this just some ridiculous ploy by your uncle to get my grandmother out of the race?”
He rubbed his fingers across his mouth. He had beautiful hands, strong, talented fingers and…Wait. Was he holding back a laugh? She curled her good hand into a fist, tempted to punch him. There was nothing remotely funny about the situation. He’d made her and her grandmother the object of everyone’s pity.
“Helen’s dead last, honey. I don’t think she even shows up on my uncle’s radar.”
“Don’t you honey me.” She’d like to tell him not to look at her either, because his eyes were her downfall. They always had been. “And you might want to tell your uncle not to underestimate my grandmother. Polls have been known to be wrong.” She narrowed her eyes at him. He was smiling now, a sexy smile with an annoying display of perfectly white and even teeth. “Why are you smiling at me?”
“Because you’re mad.”
She was afraid she knew what he meant. “Your powers of observation are as sharply honed as ever, I see.”
He laughed. She wasn’t going to ask why. She didn’t have to. She could see something other than just amusement in his eyes. He used to like nothing better than to tease her into a temper. “What do you want, Connor?”
He held her gaze for a moment too long. She must be misreading his intent. He couldn’t possibly be intimating he wanted her, a scarred cripple who had nothing left to offer. He had a girlfriend, a woman of stunning, glossy perfection.
The thought caused an odd mixture of desire, envy, and despair to flare to life inside her. “You might as well come in. You’ve already given the neighbors enough to talk about.”
“What do you mean?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.
“Oh please. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She strode into the kitchen and gestured at the island and counters. “We could feed a small country. The fridge and freezer are full too.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, doing a slow turn, his eyes narrowing on the table before shooting back to her. “Is that—”
“Envelopes of money? Yes. Bills, coins, checks, even some IOUs.” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she turned away. She’d cried in front of him yesterday; she wasn’t about to cry in front of him today. Even if they were angry and embarrassed tears. Even if it meant he might take her in his arms again. It had been so long since she’d been held by a man, especially a man she’d once loved with all her heart and soul.
She’d been such a romantic back then, positive they’d be together forever. Then her life had begun to unravel, and she’d made choices based on emotions and pain that had nothing to do with Connor. She’d regretted the decision to end their relationship almost from the moment she’d made it, but her father’s affair with another woman had cut deep and Arianna couldn’t think straight or see past the pain to know how big a mistake she’d made. And then, just when she’d decided she’d been foolish to allow her father’s betrayal to mess with her head and her relationship with Connor, life had thrown her a curveball. Everything had changed, and her decision and choices were no longer just about her or hers to make.
“It wasn’t me, Arianna,” he said from behind her. She heard him put down the messenger bag he’d been carrying, and then his hands were on her shoulders, drawing her back against his chest. He smelled like fall, fresh air and autumn leaves. He felt solid and strong, and she let herself relax against him in hopes of absorbing some of his confidence and strength. She didn’t know this woman she’d become. She didn’t like her very much.
He wrapped his arms around her chest and dipped his head, his warm breath tickling her ear. “I know you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She should move away from him. Show him she wasn’t as weak or as pitiful as he and everyone else seemed to think. But she was weak and pitiful, and he felt like a warm, heavy blanket wrapped around her.
If her body wouldn’t do as it should, she’d use her mind and mouth to push him away. “I don’t believe you.”
There wasn’t an ounce of the sarcasm she had intended in her voice. He wouldn’t step away to defend himself now, not with her sounding all swoony and breathless. But before she could berate herself, Connor released her, gently turning her to face him. So, it had worked after all. She should be happy, not disappointed at the loss of his comfort and warmth. Or maybe terrified that he was making her feel anything at all. She preferred the numbness, the dark well of nothingness of the past several weeks.
“Arianna, look at me.”
There was something about the tone of his voice, deep and soothing, yet demanding, that reminded her of the one she’d been hearing in her nightmares and dreams ever since leaving the hospital. The voice that had begged her to stay, pleaded with her to fight, and reminded her of those she’d leave behind. “You told me you loved me,” she said without meaning to, though certain now that it had been Connor’s seductive baritone that had crept into her head and heart that night and demanded she live.
He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. He wore a black leather jacket, jeans, and a blue V-neck sweater that deepened the color of his eyes. Wary eyes that stared back at her. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. I used to tell you I loved you all the time. But that was a long time ago.”
She should let it go, but instead she shook her head. “No. It was mere weeks ago actually. At the hospital. I heard you. You told me you loved me. You told me not to give up.” Anger tinged the edges of her speech.
It was him. Connor was the one who’d dragged her back into the nightmare that was her life. She’d spent hours in the hospital listening to the voices of doctors, nurses, techs, and porters, hours thinking of what she’d say to the man once she found him. And here he stood, right in front of her, and all she could do was stare.
He stood silent, a muscle pulsing in his stubbled jaw, as though debating whether to tell her the truth or not.
“What did you want me to do? I watched you take what could have been your last breath. You died right before my eyes, Arianna. I couldn’t save you. Do you know what that feels like, to stand beside someone you care about and know there’s not anything you can do? All I could do was try to reach the woman I remembered. You used to be a fighter. You needed to be that woman then. You need to be her now.”
“I didn’t want to fight. I was ready to die.” And none of them knew why. It was just one more secret she’d take to her grave. A silent shame she’d locked away years before. If Connor knew, he wouldn’t have been there that night begging her to live.
“You didn’t die. Stop acting like you did. You have people who care about you and need you, so instead of hiding away in your bedroom, maybe you should start living again.”
“How dare you judge me! You have no idea what it’s like to lose absolutely everything and be left with this.” She raised her injured arm in the sling, just the tips of her fingers visible in the black compression glove.
He glanced at her hand and then lifted his gaze to hers. “Why did you go back to your office that night? You had to know it was dangerous, that there was a chance you might not make it out alive.”
Everyone asked the same question, and she told them the same lie she told Connor now. “I don’t know why. Maybe I was overcome by the smoke and got disoriented.”
“No. You tied a tourniquet around Serena’s leg and ensured that Jenna would get her out. When she asked where you were going, you told her your office. What was so important that you risked your life?”
“You have no idea what it was like that night. I wasn’t thinking straight, Connor. I was traumatized. Lorenzo kidnapped us, tied us up, then shot Serena and my stepmother. I thought we were going to die.”
In some ways she had been traumatized, but she’d also known exactly what she was doing. Only on another level, she’d told the truth. She hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d let emotions rule her actions and had suffered the consequences, losing even more than she’d thought she would.
“And you would have died if you hadn’t shot him. You and your sisters are alive because of you, Arianna. You were incredibly brave.”
“I wasn’t. Jenna was. If it weren’t for her, none of us would have gotten out alive.”
“Your grandmother might say if it weren’t for Jenna bringing Lorenzo into your lives, none of this would have happened.”
“She didn’t say that to Jenna, did she?”
“I don’t know, though I imagine she does hold Jenna partially to blame. Makes sense, right? She blames her for ruining your parents’ marriage.”
“I know. So does my mother. Did you talk to Jenna about this? Is that why she’s only dropped by a few times?”
“Logan told me. But that’s why I mentioned it. I didn’t want you to think she doesn’t care. She does. It’s just that Helen makes it difficult for her to see you.”
“I don’t know why you’d think it would bother me. Jenna’s busy. I understand…Wait a minute. You were talking about me to Logan? Why? When?”
“Sunday. After I left here. I was worried about you. Can you blame me?”
“Yes. Yes, I can. Because this”—she waved her good hand around the room—“is your fault.”
“How do you figure that? It’s not like I put an announcement in the Gazette. The only people I talked to were my brothers. They wouldn’t say anything to anyone else.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I talked to Mrs. Ranger about you and Helen on the way to the manor. She actually did most of the talking. It’s possible she’s behind this.” He gestured to the containers. “She was going to get in touch with her bridge club and make a schedule. They must have messed up. It was supposed to be one meal a day or something like that.”
“Oh no, we got that schedule too. See, right there on the fridge. That’s the list of meals that will be arriving every day at four p.m. for the next month. The rest of this is courtesy of the Widows Club and the ladies of Immaculate Conception.”
“Swear to God, I never mentioned anything to my grandmother. I’m telling the absolute truth, Arianna. I know how private you are. I wouldn’t do that.”
She sighed. He’d always been open and honest with her in the past. She didn’t see any reason for him to lie to her now. “It was probably Mrs. Ranger. Word must have gotten out when she organized our nightly meals. What on earth were you two talking about that made her think we needed to be fed?”
“Your grandmother telling her you were penniless and would soon be homeless may be partially to blame,” he said, moving to pick up his messenger bag.
“Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re avoiding looking at me. And now I’m sure of it because you just answered a question with a question.”
The smile he gave her faded. “You don’t look like you’re eating. And Mrs.—”
“The pills I had to take made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t eat. But I’m starting to feel better now.” That was true, to a point. In the beginning, the pills had made her sick, but she no longer had to take them. She wasn’t not eating on purpose. It’s just that she slept through most meals, and they hadn’t had a lot of food on hand. “Honestly, don’t people around here have enough to occupy their time?”
“You didn’t let me finish. Mrs. Ranger has some concerns about Helen’s mental health. Have you noticed anything lately? Has your grandmother been confused, repeating herself, behaving erratically?”
“I don’t believe this. They think I’m anorexic and my grandmother has Alzheimer’s.” She tried to keep the panic from her voice. So it wasn’t just her. Other people had noticed her grandmother was losing it too.
“Are you okay? You got pale all of a sudden. Sit down.” He guided her to the table and pulled out a chair. “You want a cup of tea, a glass of juice?”
“Juice, please,” she said as she sat down, noticing a slight tremor in the fingers of her good hand as she carefully pushed the envelopes away. “I can’t believe people are sending us money. Maybe now Glamma will think twice about trying to get the sympathy vote.”
Connor didn’t say anything. He’d taken off his leather jacket and draped it on a chair at the table, placing his messenger bag beside it. His back was to her as he rummaged around in the fridge. Maybe the hum of the refrigerator had drowned out her voice, or perhaps he was just stupefied by his choices of juice. People had dropped off several containers of juice, along with eggs, bacon, and bread. Obviously they’d been put in charge of breakfast.
“I’m not fussy. Any kind is fine,” she said, noting Connor rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s not that. I know you like grape juice. I’m just trying to decide if you meant this to be in here or not.” He turned with a black lace La Perla bra dangling from his finger. It was hers.
It was only because she knew he was seeing it as evidence that either she or her grandmother had lost their marbles that she told him the truth. “I, ah, haven’t been able to put on a bra since the fire. I thought I’d try to this morning. It didn’t go well. I was frustrated and attempted to throw it in the garbage can and missed by a mile, just as Glamma ushered in several firefighters, including your cousin Liam and Marco DiRossi, who were dropping off more containers of food. I scooped up the bra and shoved it in the closet thing to me—the refrigerator.”
“Okay. I didn’t really need to know all the details, but—”
“Yes, you did. You seem to think Glamma and I are losing it.”
“No, I don’t think you are. You’ve—”
“Ah, I see, so I’m fine. It’s just Glamma who you think is crazy. Did you ever stop to think that she might be a little stressed? She’s eighty years old, and she’s taking care of me and running for mayor.”
He poured her a glass of grape juice as she talked and then walked to the table and placed it in front of her, setting her bra by her arm. “I’m sure she is stressed,” he said as he took a seat.
She grabbed the bra and stuffed it under her bottom. “Stress can make you forgetful.”
“You’re right; it can.”
“Stop being so agreeable. I know what you’re doing. You think if you stay quiet, I’ll just keep talking until I admit Glamma’s been repeating herself and forgetting to pay bills and missing appointments. She’s eighty, Connor. It only stands to reason she would have some minor memory problems.”
“If you think Helen’s fine, then great. There’s nothing to be concerned about. But if you are concerned, you don’t have to deal with it alone. For now, why don’t we take care of the insurance claim? That should help alleviate at least some of yours and Helen’s stress.”
She slumped in the chair. “Can we do it tomorrow? It’s been a long day.”
“I’m afraid we can’t. There’s honestly not a lot left to do. I’ve been working on it with Serena and Jenna for the last couple of days. But something Helen said was bothering me, and I talked about it to Jenna. She said you took out a loan a few weeks before the fire.”
“Yes, I did. I planned to expand. But Glamma had nothing to do with that. I did it on my own.”
“That’s the thing, you didn’t. I called the bank after I talked to Jenna, leaned on the manager a bit, and he admitted that, because Helen held the initial loan on Tie the Knot, he’d asked her to cosign.”
“No. That’s not right. When Glamma gave me the shop, I took over her loan. She’s had nothing to do with Tie the Knot for years.”
“I know, and so did the manager. We’ll get back to that, but right now I need to talk to your grandmother, and I need you to hire me as your attorney.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Helen cosigned the loan using this house as collateral. You’re almost two months behind on your loan payments.”
“That’s why Glamma said we’ll be out on the street by Christmas. They’re going to foreclose.” She pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes.
“Hey, look at me. It’s going to be okay. Once you’ve hired me as your attorney, I’ll go in and demand to see the notifications they say they’ve sent.”
“You don’t think they’ve sent them?”
“No, I’m pretty sure they have and Helen ignored them. The thing is, the manager never should have asked your grandmother to cosign and put up her house as collateral. But because her name is on the loan, my hands are tied. There is a way to get you a couple of extra months’ grace. You’re not going to like it though.”
“You’re going to say Glamma is mentally incompetent.”
“Look, I know this is the last thing you want to do. If it makes it easier, just think of it as a legal strategy to save your home.”
“But you think it’s the truth.”
“I’m sorry. I do.”
“If you’ve been working on the claim, which, I really appreciate, by the way, can’t you get them to give us an advance against the settlement that we can put toward what’s owed on the house?”
“I tried. But they’re pushing back because the claim is being filed almost two months after the fact. There is another option.”
“What?”
“You can let me loan you the money, or you can use the money—”
“No. Thank you, but no. We’re not a charity case. This isn’t our fault. I have insurance for this very reason. And what the bank did is wrong.”
“It is. So hire me. I’ll make them both pay.”
“Where do I sign?” she said, suddenly feeling like she could breathe again.
“For now we’ll just shake on it.”
She went to give him her injured hand, then self-consciously lifted her left. He took it, smiled, and then brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for representing Summers in your divorce?”
She tried to come back with a sharp rejoinder to make him laugh, but feeling his warm lips on her skin and seeing his dark head bent over her hand had turned her brain to mush. All she could manage was a small smile and a nod.
An hour later she couldn’t manage a smile or a nod if she tried. They’d made it through fifteen pages of the itemized lists he’d put together with her sisters’ help and had barely put a dent in the pile of papers, so it surprised Arianna when Connor reached behind him for his leather jacket.
He smiled as he stood up and shrugged into his jacket. “If you can get through a good chunk of it tonight, we should be able to put in the claim by Thursday at the latest.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked, wondering if he heard the hint of panic in her voice.
“Yeah. I have to get going, but you’re doing great.”
She wasn’t doing great. She wasn’t doing anywhere close to great. She’d just gotten really good at hiding her feelings. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s lasagna in the fridge. Rosa DiRossi made it,” she quickly added when it looked like he might refuse. Rosa DiRossi made the best Italian food in all of Massachusetts.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could. But Brooklyn’s coming to my place for dinner, and it’s too late to cancel.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, working to keep the disappointment from her voice, maybe a touch of jealousy too. Until she thought about what he said. He was having dinner with Brooklyn. His girlfriend. The girlfriend she’d assumed he’d broken up with. And she’d assumed this because of how he’d been acting with her.
“I really would love to stay. It’s just that—”
“It’s fine.” Arianna grimaced as the words came out of her mouth cold and clipped. She didn’t mean for her anger to be so clearly evident. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet, not looking at him as she led the way to the front door. “Thank you for your help today.”