Fix You (The Irish Rogues #3)

Chapter Fifteen Maeve

A lthough I was exhausted, I didn’t want to sleep. Since I knew it was our only night together, I didn’t want to miss a moment. So, I lay there staring at Rafe’s face while running my fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

He slept like the dead, which allowed me to stroke him without waking him. Even after slipping out of bed for a quick shower, he didn’t stir. When I returned to slide into bed beside him, he rolled over to wrap me in his arms.

Sometime before dawn, I finally dozed off. I don’t know how long I slept. When I woke up again, Rafe was gone from the bed. Shooting up, I stared around the empty room. In a panic, I called out his name.

He poked his head out of the bathroom–a towel was slung around his waist and his dark hair was wet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just thought you’d left.”

“I would never leave without a goodbye.”

Although I should’ve been modest in the light of day, I rose out of the bed and crossed the room naked to join him. Rafe’s dark eyes flared at the sight of my body.

When I stood before him, I said, “Thank you. You know, for not leaving without a goodbye.”

After clearing his throat, he motioned to the table across the room. “I had Milos pick you up some clothes.”

With a smile, I replied, “How chivalrous of you to save me the walk of shame in my club dress.”

Rafe chuckled. “I knew there was no way you could possibly go home like that and not have your brothers and your mother all over your ass.”

“While you’re right about my brothers, Mam would probably give me a high five.”

Rafe’s eyes popped wide. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, she was pulling for us. She bought my Christmas dress to try and wow you.”

With a shake of his head, Rafe replied, “She’s a mess.”

“A corker as we say in Ireland. She said she knew there was something between us at the reception, so she thought seeing me in the dress might reel you in.” At the thought of his marriage contract, I grimaced. “I mean, she felt that way until she learned about your future wedding.”

The mood in the room shifted. Suddenly, I felt too exposed and vulnerable without my clothes, so I went over to the table. I quickly threw the shirt over my head. While I was sliding the pants up my legs, I looked up to see Rafe’s gaze on me.

A regretful agony spread across his face. “I wish things could be different, Maeve.”

Feeling the tears pricking my eyes, I replied, “I know. So do I.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Rafe questioned. I knew his question was genuine and not based on some ego trip.

I mulled over his question. In one way, I was absolutely fine. Rafe had given me such a gift by helping me overcome my intimacy hurdle. I could go back to Dublin now having made progress emotionally and physically.

One day down the road, there would be another man. I didn’t know how he could possibly be better than Rafe, but I had to hope there would be one. Maybe several. And because of Rafe, I was healed enough to think about pursuing them.

But then there was the other way–the one where I was madly in love with him. The one where my chest threatened to collapse at the thought of walking away from him right now. The one where I wanted to plead for him to rip up his contract and marry me instead.

That way was going to be filled with a slow heartbreak, which hopefully time and distance would aid.

“The next man has some big shoes to fill,” I teasingly said, trying to lighten the mood.

When Rafe smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. “There will be no woman who will ever compare to you.”

Pinching my eyes shut, I shook my head. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s the truth.”

I swallowed down the rising tears. “And that makes it all hurt even more.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just how I feel.” He shook his head. “I always want to be honest with you, Maeve.”

“I know I’ll appreciate that one day, but it’s just too painful in this moment.”

“Then I won’t say anymore.”

And there it was. The hard goodbye.

Forcing a smile to my lips, I walked over to him on shaky legs. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”

“I’m honored that you allowed me to be a part of it.”

A crack began in my heart. Its fissures began to crisscross through my chest. In a choked voice, I said, “Goodbye, Rafe.”

“Goodbye, beautiful Tesoro .”

It took everything within me to walk away from him, but I did. I slipped out the door into the hallway where Milos was waiting on me. “Good morning, Ms. Kavanaugh. Mr. Neretti instructed me to drive you home.”

With a shake of my head, I replied, “No, that’s okay. I can just get a cab.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but this was an order.”

“Fine,” I muttered.

As we started down the hallway, Milos followed close behind me. I kept my emotions in check until we got to the elevator. Then I began openly sobbing, not caring that Milos was hearing me.

My hand came to my mouth to try to muffle my sobs. Through my tears, I saw a white handkerchief come into my eye line. When I glanced over at Milos, he nodded his head.

After taking the handkerchief, I swiped my eyes. When I went to give it back to him, he said, “Please keep it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

When we started to get off the elevator, Milos remained close to my side. An SUV sat waiting on us at the curb with another Neretti bodyguard standing watch. Defeatedly, I got inside and buckled up.

We started home in silence. When we were about a mile from home, I swiped my tears a final time. Reaching into my purse, I dabbed some powder under my eyes to hide the tear stains.

“It’s probably better if you don’t let me out at the house,” I suggested.

“As you wish.”

After he pulled the car over, Milos put the SUV in park. Before I could get myself out, he’d already come over to help me. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Ma’am, although it's overstepping my bounds, I feel there is something I should say.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Okay.”

“There is an old Italian proverb that says, “ Quella destinata per te, nessuno la prenderà , which means no one will take the one that is destined for you.” With a smile, he replied, “In the days and weeks to come, hold on to that.”

Frowning, I replied, “But–”

“Fate and destiny can intervene when nothing else can.”

Staring into Milos’s eyes, I saw the firm resolve in them. If he could believe in Rafe and me, then why shouldn’t I? “Destiny in Irish is cinniúint. We believe in it very strongly there as well.”

Milos nodded. “I’m glad to hear that.”

What I did next shocked the both of us. I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything, Milos.”

His usually tanned cheeks reddened. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

With a final nod, the new me started down the street to my old world.