Page 143 of Face Off With Fate

She tilted her head, and for a second, I could see Monroe. The set of her jaw, the steadiness of her eyes. “You gave him every reason to trust you. Did you give yourself the same reasons to trust him?”

“Oh my god, I’m wrong for him,” I said, dropping my head in my hands. “Why would he want to be with me when I didn’t trust him?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Her smile was small and certain. “You came back. And god knows he’s not perfect, so there should be no damn reason that son of mine should expect you to be. Besides, lovin’ someone is messy. A lifetime of mistakes, but all that really matters is you’re willing to learn from them. To change where it matters.”

My jaw went slack, but I didn’t get a chance to respond.

“Gracie!”

Goldie hit me around the knees, arms locked on my legs like a vice.

“Goldie, baby, give Gracie a minute—” Cindy started.

“It’s okay.” I lifted her into my lap. “Hey, Golden Girl.”

“Why are you crying?” she asked, brows furrowed as she clumsily swiped at a rogue tear.

I opened my mouth, but had absolutely no idea what to say to a five-year-old about any of this.

“Iss okay,” she told me, shoving her raggedy bunny in my face. “Jingle Bells Bunny will make you feel better.”

Warmth spread through my chest at her innocence, and I clutched both of them to my chest. “You both make me feel better,” I managed.

The garage door flung open, the sound cracking through the house. Goldie’s head snapped up, and I was on my feet before I’d consciously decided to stand.

Josh filled the doorway.

He was still in his suit jacket, collar askew, chest heaving like he’d run the last block. His eyes swept the kitchen until they found me.

Everything stopped.

“Graciella.”

It came out rough. Wrecked.

“Daddy!” Goldie launched herself out of my arms and at her father, and he caught her automatically, arms folding around her without breaking eye contact with me. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured something against her hair.

Cindy appeared, lifting Goldie from his arms. “Come on, Golds, let’s go play in your room for a bit.”

Then they were gone, and Monroe crossed the room in two steps.

I didn’t back up. I stood there with my heart trying to climb out of my throat.

He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to hold his gaze. His jaw was tight, eyes red-rimmed.

That detail nearly undid me.

“You were just going to leave.” His voice was low.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was trying to make sure that I didn’t⁠—”

“Didn’t what?” He exhaled hard through his nose.

“Didn’t ruin anything.” I threw an arm out. “You have this whole life, and I made it worse.”

My eyes burned.

He searched my face, his thumb catching the tear that had slipped past my lashes.