Page 121 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
"No one else," I said, "deserves to be Juliet's mom but you."
Her eyes flickered, then shut it down quick.
"Ezio," she sighed, that sigh heavy with exhaustion, like she'd run out of fight, "don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't say that," she said, "and make me..." She stopped, switched tracks. "You say you never forgot me, say no one's good enough, but so what? Five years ago, you could've said it, but you didn't. You told me to get lost, let that woman move in, you—"
Her voice cracked a little, flattened quickly. "Don't block me with words, Ezio. I don't buy it anymore."
I stared, that fire reigniting in my chest.
"Olivia..."
"Stop." Her voice hardened again. She bent down, hunting for her panties on the floor, "I'll go. Won't mess with you and your daughter's life."
She couldn't find them. Covered her face with a sigh, then like she didn't care, threw on her half-wet shirt and jeans in a rush.
"Thanks," she said, glancing at me, tone back to that polite, distant shit, "great sex. But I gotta go."
My temple throbbed.
Then she headed for the door.
"Contract," I said behind her, "three months. Leave now, breach fee's no joke."
Her hand froze on the knob.
"And," I added, "you gonna vanish from Juliet again? She trusts you now. You gonna make her cry twice?"
Silence stretched for dozens of seconds.
She stood there, hand on the knob, back to me. I watched her shoulders tense subtly, watched her shove something back down.
"I'll honor it," she said, voice a forced calm, "till the classes end."
Door opened, then shut.
Footsteps faded down the hall, front door creaked open and closed below, then nothing.
I stood in the bathroom, listening to the house settle back to quiet.
Looked down.
Then I saw it.
That black lace panties she couldn't find, damp and lying by the tile seam.
I bent, picked it up, pressed it to my nose, inhaled deeply.
Her scent bloomed at my nostrils—vanilla, faint, the warmth from what just happened, way clearer, way realer than the traces on that sweater I'd kept for five years.
I clenched it in my fist, stood, walked to the window, and watched her hurried back.
She thought saying thanks, saying it was good, could tidy this up like nothing happened, then she'd vanish again, leave me hanging once more.
But she was wrong.
