Meant to Be Mine Read online

  Grunting a swearword, Abram came around the counter and hollered out to one of his staff to man reception for a few minutes. “Let’s walk, Sofia.”

  They left the laundromat and passed the stationery store with its chalkboard advertisement for back-to-school printing specials out front and pastel flowerpots circling its lampposts. She thought he was heading to the public bench the next block over that stretched below a wrought-iron street clock, but he stopped and pointed at Blush.

  “What about it?”

  “That window display might seem to some to be selling underwear, but you’re not fooling me.”

  Gone was the firefly-inspired dressing. She’d replaced it with a lone female mannequin in a black lace-edged hooded dress on her knees, stretching forward as if reaching out for something. Strips of tulle crisscrossed over her head and filled the backdrop.

  “What are you trying to tell him that you couldn’t seem to say face-to-face?”

  The display, she admitted to herself, could be described as nothing but lost. She was productive at the boutique and putting in extra effort with the upcoming bakery and the underground club, but her heart couldn’t seem to regain direction.

  “I can’t find him,” she interpreted. “There’s so much that needs to be said. There’s so much I know now.”

  “Damn,” he muttered. “I should’ve laid money on this. I told him to hang back and give you time before he took off.”

  Abram had months ago regarded her as a risk to Burke’s sobriety. A friendship had uncurled between Sofia and Abram, but that didn’t erase the conversation.

  “You thought I was a threat to him.”

  “Sofia, I thought he’d be a threat to himself. He’d been unhappy so long I figured he wouldn’t trust that shit was finally good for him. That he’d panic and lose out on—”

  “Happiness?” she supplied, leaping to what Caro had said on the Fourth of July about Sofia’s mother.

  “Not even that. Redemption. He’s strong, tough as hell, but he’s human. He’s not a fan of his own weaknesses, but that’s life, ain’t it?” Abram clasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Look, Sofia, don’t rely on your storefront windows to speak for you. Tell him.”

  “I’m trying to. I’ve been reaching out since yesterday.”

  Abram averted his gaze, as if debating something. “He probably hasn’t seen any of that. He’s on a mariner run, working cargo on Viking Five. The ship’s on a storm delay outside Canada. When weather stuff hits the fan those folks can hardly get access to any decent communication.”

  Storm delay. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s too early to start worrying, Sofia. Don’t let yourself get worked up. If he found out you wound up in the hospital over this, he’d probably swim home to you. I’m asking you not to put him in that position.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “He would, if it meant rescuing you.”

  And that was true. Burke had endangered himself and fought monsters for her protection, because that’s what love meant to him. He wasn’t a superhero, just her hero. “It’s my fault that he’s out there.”

  “Don’t start blaming yourself.”

  He’d taken an onboard assignment out of the United States to get away from her, and now he was on the water, left stranded in a storm? Of course she’d worry; of course she’d blame herself.

  “Sofia, you and Burke are so effing afraid to hurt each other that you end up doing exactly that. I almost lost Hannah that way. I messed up, and it’s a miracle that she’s mine and we’ve got two girls now.” His voice gentled. “Love’s not perfect, and the longer y’all go on thinking it ought to be, the bigger your chances are of losing each other. Stay put and wait for word to come through from the ship. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  But as she sprinted across to her side of Society Street, something clutched her. Not panic, but a plan. Not a dream, but a future.

  Taking hold of both, she hoped Abram wouldn’t mind too much that she ignored his advice: Stay put and wait. She couldn’t do that. Letting love call the shots, she closed Blush in the middle of the afternoon, searched Viking Five on an online vessel tracker database, packed a bag, and loaded Tish into the SUV for a road trip.

  *

  He didn’t manage more than a couple of hours of sleep, patched together over the course of forty-six hours, and whenever he did drift, he dreamed of Sofia.

  Throwing himself into dock work hadn’t led Burke far enough away from her and all the love that surged through him beneath the anger. Putting himself on board and crossing international waters had done nothing but make him think about being on Colossians 1:14 with her in his arms.

  The hurricane that had battered the side of his ship even in shallow sea waters and left it stalled spurred rumors of estimated tens of millions of dollars in damaged cargo should the steel snap and the vessel capsize. Men had their eyes on lifeboats and flotation rings even as they threw every ounce of energy and skill into manning the ship, and the Coast Guard had been enlisted for a search and rescue mission during the period when they had dropped off radar. Waves spurred by high winds rose like an opaque whitish-gray wall against an eerily blue sky. The shipboard crew tried to contact loved ones but the onboard computer system and wireless communication had failed them. The storm, the threat, was only a category two and could be called mild in comparison to crises Burke had witnessed when a ship on a tight schedule and a storm crossed on the water, but this was an invisible shove that’d hit with more force than the wind-powered waves against the ship.

  He didn’t want to restore himself. He wanted Sofia to know he loved her and would until his last minute on this earth.

  And then, when the storm had relented enough for the craft to be anchored at the nearest open port, and lines of communication reopened somewhat, the correspondence had come through in a batch.

  Sofia, with the same message, over and over, repeating in text and voice mail messages and emails: I’m sorry. Come home.

  She was home, his home.

  And he was coming back to her.

  Burke intended to drive into Eaves the moment he got a decent shower and put on some clean clothes, but protocol held him up once the ship reached port in Brooklyn, New York. Activity erupted as the harbor crew descended for inventory and transfer. Freight vehicles, medical teams, security, and media personnel clogged the roadway and docks.

  Detained for over an hour, he was impatient for the medic performing a cursory examination to wrap things up, let him sign his papers and go home. Questions and the beam of a penlight aggravated him further, because his repeated “I wasn’t hurt—just sprayed with water” went ignored in favor of liability procedures.

  Dirty and wind-beaten, he finally made it to the parking lot. He thought he heard a woman calling his name and figured he’d double back to one of the emergency vehicles for another once-over, because he either had a strange-ass case of tinnitus or had lost his friggin’ mind. But then a dog barked and he saw headlights flash under the gray New York sky.

  “Sofia!” Tugging off his baseball cap, rubbing his eyes to make sure he was seeing her right, he began to run. His body ached but adrenaline fueled him. She threw herself from her Lexus and crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. “You’re crazy! It’s chaos here. You should be home—”

  “We had to find you,” she cried, nestling against his sweaty skin, kissing his wind-chapped lips. “We’re your girls. We had to see that you were safe.”

  Burke peered through the windshield, but Tish poked her head out the driver’s window and barked, demanding attention. “Honey,” he halfheartedly admonished the dog, “you’re supposed to talk her out of stuff like this.”

  But, with Sofia still in his arms, he went over and ruffled the scruff of Tish’s neck. Then he kissed his woman. “I love you, Sofia, but you can’t put this kind of stress on yourself.”

  “Knowing your ship was tr
apped in a hurricane probably should’ve crumpled me, but I didn’t let it. I fought, and I took Tish and we found you.”

  No one had greeted him at port before. Friends checked in, considered his safety, but none had tracked him across state lines and waited for God knew how long just to see his face.

  Sofia unwound herself. “Now that I know you’re safe, I’m going back. Get your truck and do what you’ve got to, but we have to talk, Burke. Come home, okay?”

  Burke hated that he had to watch her drive off, but he was downright pissed when crew carpool hit a delay and delivered him to Boston late that night. He’d intended to shower at a motel and get on the road. In actuality, he was so exhausted that he’d ended up sprawled on a bed with nothing but a towel around his ass and slept for damn near fifteen hours.

  But rested, with his path so clear now, he aimed his truck down Society Street and parked in the first available spot on Sofia’s block.

  In front of his father’s grocery market.

  It wasn’t that anymore, though. Getting out, he hesitantly approached and read a banner hanging overhead: LUST DESSERTS—COMING SOON!

  Damn him, but he smiled at that. Sofia and her friend were going for it—a dream—full force.

  As if turning the pages of an album, he saw himself as a kid in the shopping cart practicing kindergarten vocabulary words while his mother, Melody, pushed it along and coached him with a smile on her face as she shopped; as a teenager bagging groceries and staring sometimes at a dark-haired girl he didn’t talk to in school but thought about; as a sullen man finally coming back to Eaves in the wake of Deacon’s death and bawling on the floor, grieving someone who’d despised him but whom Burke had inexplicably loved in a way that a son couldn’t help but love his father.

  The building wasn’t his—he’d let it go. The memories wouldn’t disappear because of a transfer of ownership, but standing here now he felt no rage for something that was now a part of Sofia.

  Love and hatred, side by side, lying together inside him. But he was changing, letting her in, and she was beginning to heal him. Making a choice, Burke walked away from the past and toward the future.

  He swung open the door to Blush, searching for the woman represented by a lone window mannequin being swallowed up by some frilly material.

  “So you really did escape a hurricane in one piece,” Paget said, and it was the first time he’d seen her smile—at least at him. It was also kind of nice that she didn’t greet him with Hello, you ass.

  “I’ve survived worse. Is Sofia around?”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Damn, was he too late?

  “I’m not going to tell you to put your life on hold for me.”

  “Tell me. I’ll do it. You’re worth it. To me, you are worth that.”

  “Sofia, I’m not going to tell you that.”

  “I’ve been a real dick.”

  According to Paget’s startled expression, he’d said that aloud.

  A woman holding a pair of patent leather spiked heels glanced at him; a guy with gauges in his ears and a dog collar around his neck snickered.

  “Relax, guy,” Paget said. “There’ll be plenty of time to get into all of this with Sofia. She’s out on errands. The bookstore, then the post office and probably the taffy place.”

  Thanking her, he whirled, darted out the door, and collided with a bicycle.

  “Ahhhh!” the rider cried out.

  In a tangle, they almost spilled onto the sidewalk, but he gripped the handlebars and steadied…

  Her. Sofia.

  “Burke.” Her laugh was part shriek and she scrambled off the bike. It tipped this time, falling onto its side with the wheels spinning. “You’re here.”

  He rushed her, trying to touch her everywhere all at once. “I’m checking you for injuries.”

  “Oh? It feels like you’re fondling me very thoroughly.”

  “That, too.”

  She looked at his mouth and he wanted to dive in, but she spun out of his arms and righted the bike. “I need to take this behind the building. Coming upstairs?”

  “Yeah.” As if there was any doubt.

  She walked ahead of him and he stared way too long at her backside. Her ass was a thing of wonder, but decorated in metallic black pants…Mmm.

  She parked the bicycle and when she led him up to the apartment, he said, “The bakery and the club are happening for you. Are you happy?”

  She turned on the light above the kitchen sink and a translucent halo beamed over her. “Excited. It’s not the same as happy.”

  Out of nowhere Tish came slinking between them and settled near the refrigerator.

  “She’s going to stick close and listen to me grovel?”

  “You’re going to grovel, Burke?”

  “Apologize. It’s my turn to say sorry.”

  Sofia went to the dog and murmured, “I love you, Tish. But I love him, too, and I need to spend some time telling him all about it.”

  I love him.

  Tish turned, pointed her nose in the air as if assessing things, then trotted out.

  “Did you just tell Tish that you love me?”

  “She’s the entitled type. She appreciates knowing things first.” Playfully, Sofia dragged her knuckles up his body until she was lightly grazing his jaw. “I’ve loved you for a friggin’ ridiculously long time. But I was scared of being rejected, left behind, and I didn’t own what I felt. I should’ve.”

  “It sounds like you’re apologizing to me again, when you’re supposed to just say you love me and then let me prove to you that I deserve it.”

  “What you deserve is the truth.” She appeared to debate and when she spoke again, her voice was nearly as soft as a whisper. “When I was in the hospital, the lab found abnormalities.”

  Christ. No, not again. “Your heart?”

  “Kidneys. Burke, wait, don’t react before I tell you where things stand.” She sighed, holding him. “The transplant, the side effects from my meds, the hypertension, they made me vulnerable to chronic kidney disease, it turns out. The docs looked into things further, and I’m at stage two.”

  “Can it be treated?”

  “Progression can be slowed, with diet changes, my BP meds and some close monitoring, but no, babe, the damage can’t be undone.”

  “And when it progresses?”

  “Dialysis. Maybe a transplant. Those are end-stage options, could be years away.” Sofia stared at him, silently begging him for something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to provide: understanding. “I’m going to fight. But the quality of my life counts. I want to enjoy this life, every day with you and Tish and my friends.”

  “Joss and Caro. Bautista. Do they know?”

  She nodded. “I sat them down after I finalized a treatment plan with my nephrologist. He’s in Boston.”

  “I want to meet him, ask some questions.”

  “Okay, of course. Everyone’s in agreement. The girls and I are still going for our dream. It’s going to be tough, after a while. If this…If I’m not for you—”

  “Hell, yeah, you are.” Deliberately, he slid his thumbs over her cheeks and down her neck. She needed him to help carry this burden, and it was devastatingly natural to share his strength with her. “I’m in this with you, Sofia. I was fucking wrong to leave. You matter. Your dream matters.”

  “My dream’s here—all of it’s here. The businesses downstairs. You. If you think you won’t push me away, Burke, let me love you. I’m good at it.”

  The best, but…“I’m fucked up, Sofia.”

  “You are.” Openly, she searched his eyes. “You’re fucked up and broken and afraid to let your guard slip. But so am I, and neither of us is asking for a perfect love.”

  “We’re going to piss each other off.”

  “Guaranteed.”

  “We remind each other of every screwed-up thing in our past.”

  “Then there are no lies and no reason to pretend. That makes us free.”

  T
hey were free. Free to love her, he secured his arms around her. “So damn beautiful…You’re not good at loving me. You’re the best.”

  “I’ve had some time to get it right. Know what I found in the basement next door? Your sketches. I didn’t know you loved me from the start of us.”

  “It wouldn’t have been enough then.”

  She nodded. “No, but I hate regret. It feels like a stain I can’t wash off, like a tattoo.” She stroked up his sleeve to expose his ink. “Are there any regrets here?”

  He’d been beaten within an inch of his life for the Colossians tattoo, but he couldn’t say he regretted it. “No. The thing I regret is setting you aside. I won’t make that fuckup again. So let’s agree to be messed up and in love, because I’ve been wanting to kiss you since Brooklyn—”

  She slanted her mouth over his. Swaying her backward, he lifted her ass and set her on the edge of the counter.

  She braced herself so he could rid her of those shimmery pants. And when he had her naked, haloed under the light, he parted her thighs and kissed her. She was wet and primed for him, made for him.

  Burke picked her up, carried her to the bedroom, and saw two faded drawings in frames dominating her nightstand. She’d made space for him in her body, and was now making space for him in her life.

  “Burke, we’re okay, aren’t we?”

  “Very.” Stripping, baring himself to the love of his damaged, patched-up life, he sent one of her thighs east and the other west.

  CHAPTER 22

  They’re going to give this town hell.” Bautista knew he’d get no response through the swell of music and noise. In a bar full of folks, yet somehow still alone, he considered the contents of his glass.

  In the center of the bar, Caro, Joss, and Sofia danced on the pool table with their arms up and hips shaking. This place was theirs now—he’d cleaned it carefully, extracting the traces of his past he didn’t want them to inherit—and they could do what they pleased. They appeared to be three carefree, skating-through-life girls, but were the most scarred women he’d ever met—and he’d met a lot of women.