A second chance for a first love?

Six years ago, Nigel Johns lost the only woman he ever loved. Now, the successful financial consultant intends to prove to Regina Gibson that he’s a changed man. Except, his ex-fiancée isn’t welcoming him with open arms. In fact, she’s doing everything she can to keep him out of her life and away from her painful secret. Until an unexpected night of rekindled passion gives him hope for a second chance….

After she walked away from Nigel, Regina lost the one thing she loved most. Since then, she’s put all her energy into making it as an artist and forgetting the man who broke her heart. Now that Nigel is back and reawakening her body, she has to decide what she really wants. She can’t deny that they still make sensual magic together. But now that she’s back in his arms, will she let him back into her heart—forever?

“There is no us, and there never will be again.”

“Don’t say that before you hear me out.”

“You can’t possibly have anything to say that will change my mind.”

Nigel stepped around the counter, and before she knew what he was about to do, he had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her.

Startled by what was happening, Regina was momentarily unclear on how to react. Her thoughts flew out of her mind.

Something about being in the curve of those arms was familiar—the firmness of the grip about her waist, the abandon of the lips moving over hers, the heat rising between them. But everything else seemed part of the newness of him—the way his height sent her head back, the buttons of his suit pressing against her abdomen, the boldness of his fingers along her back, sparking flames in her.

These filled her senses, and she became lost in them.

Wait. What was she doing?

Startling her again, he pulled away.

“That’s the way it always was for us,” he said.

YASMIN SULLIVAN

grew up in upstate New York and St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, from which her family hails. She earned degrees from Howard University and Yale University. She currently lives in Washington, D.C., where she teaches with a focus on African-American and Caribbean literatures. When she isn’t teaching, she does creative writing and works on mosaics.

Return to Love

Yasmin Sullivan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Kindred Spirit,

When characters interact across the pages of romance novels, they help us believe in the potential magic within our own lives. We are kindred spirits because we yearn for such journeys and open our hearts to transformation, greeting each other across the space of once blank lines.

I hope that this novel takes you on such a voyage and allows you to believe in the promise of second chances and the idea(l) that love can triumph over heartache. It is the story of Regina Gibson and Nigel Johns. Their young love ended in anguish, but their new risk might heal that void. I am grateful that you have decided to travel their story with me.

I am already working on my next romance project, and your comments on our journey here would be invaluable. I would love to hear from you at yasminhu@aol.com.

Warm wishes,

Yasmin

For my mother, father, brother and grandmother, who have given me the richness of the human heart; for Jennie and Tanya, who have been my sister-friends; and for Madeline, Freddie and William, who have shaped my vision of love.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

When Regina Gibson heard the door swing open and the chime sound, she didn’t glance up from the last shards of cobalt-blue tile she was fitting into place. She had them laid out in her mind, and if she looked away, the order would be lost.

She caught the coattails of a suit out of the corner of her eye and hoped he would be a paying customer.

“Let me know if you see anything,” she called from the back.

It was getting on in the evening, but with the nearby restaurants still open, people wandered in now and again—once they could tell that the beaten-down corner house was now actually an art gallery and studio.

The exterior of the building hadn’t been changed yet, except for a sign, but inside, they’d added installations, shelving, display cases, work spaces. They’d even added tables in the back rooms to teach classes, and they’d partitioned off the kilns.

Once the inside was in better shape, they could start work on the outside so that it didn’t look like a rickety brownstone. And once they caught on, they could start the real renovations. It wasn’t the perfect place yet, but it was the perfect location—right on the border of the arts and crafts district and near the Torpedo Factory Arts Center in Alexandria, Virginia.

Regina finished laying in the final pieces and cocked her head toward the back room, checking on the two kids. Kyle and Tenisha were still fixated on their little art projects. No problem there.

When she finally looked up, he was standing right in front of the table she was working at, his eyes trained on the children in the back room.

Her eyes didn’t follow his gaze to the children. They were drawn to the figure in front of her. His rugged features seemed trapped and contained by his flawless business attire, but his athletic-cut suit didn’t hide the rough-hewn inflections or the ridged sculpting of his body. The polish of the crisp navy cotton didn’t conceal a raw, unrefined beauty in his shape. It was as if something untamed was tamped down by the elegance of professional trappings.

He had a firm, never-back-down stance that said he would be a hard adversary to rumble with in...whatever his business was. And it was business. Everything about him said that he was all business—everything from the no-nonsense cut of his suit to the angular inlay of his jawline. The smooth, dark brown skin of his face held a concentrated expression that was softened but made no less determined by the curves of thick, sensuous lips. His eyes were serious but also wistful. His eyes...

Regina flinched and sucked in a breath. She knew those eyes.

The face was older, harder, different than the face she had known before. But inside it was the prior face, and she recognized it now as if someone had just pointed it out to her. The childhood had gone out of it—the baby fat that had plumped his cheeks, the boyish grin that made his eyes sparkle. These had been replaced by the calm, jagged confidence of an adult. He would be twenty-eight now—the same as her. He even seemed taller, his shoulders broader.

Regina could barely place this new configuration with what she knew of the boy behind it. It didn’t fit the idler she had known—the slacker lazing on the sofa with his buddies or running the streets with his jeans hanging halfway down his hips. The face before her didn’t match the one she had known, the one skipping classes and sleeping through exams. The one who had skipped out on her.

As recognition dawned, so did Regina’s rage.

What made him think he could pop in on her after all this time? No way. No how.

Growing more livid with each second, Regina shoved the plywood base of her mosaic farther onto the table, got up from her chair and walked over to the display case on which the cash register sat. This put them out of sight and out of earshot of the children.

Nigel Johns had understood to follow her across the room and now faced her across the counter. And what he faced was wrath.

“Unless you know how to turn back time or are here to tell me I’ve won the lottery, you better get the hell out.”

Regina’s voice was low, but its venom was unmistakable, and her body clenched in outrage.

His eyes now turned to her for the first time, but what she found there she couldn’t decipher.

“I’m not here for any of that. I’m here for you and—”

“You’re not here for me or anything else, because I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

His face remained calm, and his tone remained even and commanding, which infuriated her more. He may have thought he could waltz in the door, but she would be cutting him off at every pass.

As if it would somehow explain things, he took a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and put it down on the counter.

“This is for you—for—”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”

When he didn’t move, she snatched up the sheet of paper and unfolded it. It was a check for five thousand dollars.

“You think you can buy me?” she said, ripping up the check. “You think you have anything that I want?” She threw the pieces at his fine navy suit and watched them scatter down to the floor. “I told you before, didn’t I? I don’t need you. Now get the hell out.”

Nigel Johns held his stance. Maybe he was waiting for her to get it off her chest and get it over with. But it wouldn’t be over anytime soon.

Regina put her hands on her hips and simply glared at him. He said nothing, but he also didn’t move.

“Wait,” she said. “Do you have a card? I have an item that belongs to you—to your grandmother, actually—and once you have it back, I won’t need to hear from you ever again.”

He sighed heavily.

“This is not the way I wanted this to be, Reggie.”

His voice was low, but it was deep and steady. Even that had changed. The disappointment in his tone calmed her a bit, but her position had not altered, and she held her ground.

“This is not the way it’s supposed to be between us,” he said.

Regina couldn’t believe his audacity. Were they on the same planet? She hadn’t seen him in over six years!

She threw her hands up in exasperation.

“There is no us, and there never will be again.”

“Don’t say that before you hear me out.”

“You can’t possibly have anything to say that will change my mind.”

Nigel stepped around the counter, and before she knew what he was about to do, he had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her.

Startled by what was happening, Regina was momentarily unclear on how to react. Her thoughts flew out of her mind.

Something about being in the curve of these arms was familiar—the firmness of the grip about her waist, the abandon of the lips moving over hers, the heat rising up between them. But everything else seemed part of the newness of him—the way his height sent her head back, the buttons of his suit pressing against her abdomen, the boldness of his fingers along her back, sparking flames in her.

These filled her senses, and she became lost in them.

Wait. What was she doing?

Startling her again, he pulled away.

“That’s the way it always was for us,” he said, letting her go and stepping back.

Regina felt like she’d been caught in a lie, one he’d forced her to tell, and her anger sprang back to life. How could she let herself get caught in the moment? And how dare he put his hands on her after he had disappeared—ditching her, ditching them, ditching everything?

No way was it going to go down like that.

She stepped up to him, poking her finger against his chest and raising her head for the attack. But she didn’t know what to say. Her head had not cleared; she hadn’t been able to remember her logical arguments about why what had just happened didn’t change anything.

Little footsteps clacked toward the front, and both of them stopped in their tracks.

Tenisha appeared, smocked in the jumbo trash bag that Regina had tied at her neck and around her waist. And thank goodness. The bag was covered from top to bottom with splotches of paint, swipes from the brushes and handprints of various sizes.

Tenisha hesitated when she saw a man there.

“Come, sweetie. What is it?” Regina coaxed, giving her full attention to the child and relieved to have a moment to collect her thoughts.

Nigel stepped back around the counter, his eyes fixed on the little girl.

Behind Tenisha trailed a path of paint that was dripping from the ceramic bisque platter she was carrying. It was shaped like a butterfly, its various quadrants plastered with pastel shades of glaze.

“I’m finished with mine. Kyle is still working on his.”

“Did you get the bottom, honey?”

“Yup. Look.”

She turned it over for Regina to inspect, all the while smudging little fingerprints of paint from one color to another.

Regina took her back to the table in the classroom.

“Let’s just set it here to dry for a few minutes before we add a topcoat.” She turned to the little boy, still vigorously applying paint to the baseball-shaped bisque platter he was working on. “How is yours going, little one?”

“Uh-huh.”

Regina could see that Kyle was fully engrossed, and so she turned back to Tenisha.

“Once we add the topcoat, we can put these in the kiln and head upstairs to have something to eat. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You sit here and keep Kyle company while he finishes his. Is that okay?”

“Okay.”

Regina turned and walked back to the register. Nigel had popped up thinking...whatever he was thinking, but it wasn’t going to work on her.

“I’ve had enough, Nigel. There is no us, and there will be no us.”

When the corners of his lips twisted into a smirk, Regina’s temper stirred again, and she seethed. She’d wanted to be calm, but he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Get out. Get out, and don’t come back here.”

“Reggie, I—”

“No. Get out.”

When the chime at the door sounded, neither one looked over.

“Get out,” she said again.

Neither moved.

“Hey, hey. Is anything wrong here?”

Regina knew Jason’s voice immediately and was relieved when he came over to stand next to her. He was over six feet four inches, and he worked out religiously. It was clear to all three that Nigel, despite his new height and weight, couldn’t take Jason even if he tried. There was nothing left for him to do but withdraw.

Only he wasn’t going to back down easily. He held his ground and gave a brief nod to the other man, as if sizing up his competition. Yes, he must be a formidable adversary in the business world.

“Nothing’s wrong. This man is just leaving,” said Regina.

Nigel didn’t move right away, and when he did, it wasn’t in the direction of the door. He casually searched one of his inner coat pockets and took out a silver case—a business-card holder.

“You asked if I have a card.”

He took out one of the cards and stepped up to the register, handing it in her direction.

When Regina didn’t move to take the card, he laid it on the counter. She glared at it as if it had leprosy and then glared at Nigel.

“I’ll get that item out to you as soon as possible,” she said in a professional tone, stifling her hostility.

Nigel bent his upper body toward her.

“This isn’t over, Reggie.”

She picked up the business card and put it in the pocket of her jeans.

“It will be soon enough.”

* * *

Regina watched as Nigel slowly walked out of the studio. She was completely shaken.

Jason, holding Kyle on his hip, sat down at the workstation in the back of the shop.

“You need to talk?”

“No. Yes.”

Regina walked over to the table, glancing in on Tenisha before sitting down. Tenisha was blowing on her plate to get it to dry, and Kyle squirmed down to go get his piece.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

“I got time now.”

“No. Really. It will be better said tomorrow.”

Kyle returned with his baseball platter. “I made this for you, Daddy.”

“I can see that you did.”

Jason smiled down at his son and took the plate from him before lifting him back onto his lap.

“Here,” said Regina. “Let me have the platter so that I can topcoat it and get it in the kiln.”

“But I made it for Daddy.”

“I know, sweetie, but it’s not finished yet. We want it to be hard on the outside so that you can use it. Come, let me show you.”

Regina was almost finished applying the topcoat when the bell at the door chimed. He wouldn’t have come back, would he? How dare he show up out of nowhere—twice?

Luckily, it was only Ellison, who had come to look for his partner and child.

“Hey. What’s the deal with leaving me in the car?”

“My bad. We’re in here,” Jason called to him. “The pieces aren’t done yet. You want to wait or come back another time?”

Before he could answer, Regina offered, “I have some lasagna upstairs. You can eat while you wait for the kiln to fire them.”

“We can wait,” Ellison replied, picking up Kyle.

Regina set the cones and started filling the kiln. Nigel had had the nerve to throw money at her like she could be bought.

“It’s set. Let’s lock the front door and head out back.”

Gathering Tenisha in her arms, she climbed up the back stairs and let her down to unlock the apartment. She was glad for the company but couldn’t keep her mind focused on the random conversations that popped up between them.

Keeping her hands busy wasn’t a problem. She heated up and dished out the lasagna, got them all soda and bread, got the adults salad, found an animated movie that the kids could watch and ran down to check on the kiln.

Quieting her mind was another story. What had happened when he’d started to kiss her? Why hadn’t she thought to push him off right away? It was because she hadn’t known what he was going to do. But that would not happen again.

She heard a car pull up out back, and her pulse quickened. But it was only Tenisha’s mom, as expected. Get a grip, girl. He won’t have the nerve to just show up again anytime soon, and if he does, I’ll be ready for him.

While Jason opened the door, Regina moved into the kitchen to fix another plate of lasagna. She stopped and pulled out the business card from her pocket. It was a local address. Damn.

That was okay. She had what she needed to send him the item. No use worrying about it now. In fact, she would be rid of him for good soon enough.

Chapter 2

“Get out. Get out, and don’t come back here.”

He knew the moment she opened her mouth that he shouldn’t have gone. And though he’d taken his time leaving, it was clear that he’d been outgunned.

If he had any hope at all, it was that fraction of a second during his kiss when he felt her lips part beneath his, felt her body arch ever so slightly against his chest. But her arms never came around him, and then he saw the reason why.

He had heard the little boy call out “Daddy” and come running, wrapped in a paint-splattered garbage bag just like the little girl. It had gotten dark outside while he’d been there, so in the glass of the front door, he had been able to see over his shoulder. He could see the little boy jump into the man’s arms, talking a mile a minute about whatever it was that he’d made.

He hadn’t lost his stride, but his heart just about broke. He never imagined that when he was ready, it would be too late.

“I don’t need you. Now get the hell out.”

Inwardly, he was shaking his head. Her hair had been longer, but still smooth and shiny, and her almond eyes had been as piercing as ever. She had been as beautiful and as sensuous as the day she had driven him away, and things could not have gone more badly.

Nigel Johns sat behind his mahogany desk with spreadsheets piled up on his right and a keyboard in front of him. Today, he was off his game. This wasn’t like him, and it wasn’t good.

He worked in the accounting department of an investing and accounting firm. He hadn’t been there very long, but he was doing well, thanks to what he was able to do for his clients and what he’d done with his own portfolio.

“We don’t need you, so just leave, and don’t come back.”

He hadn’t expected her to fall into his arms, but he’d thought they could talk like two rational adults—now that he was an adult. But that was admitting that he hadn’t been before. Well, it was true, he hadn’t been. Their breakup had been his fault, and now maybe it was too late.

He’d decided to crunch numbers for the rest of the day—something simple he could do without too much thought. He always double-checked every calculation, but today he was having to triple and quadruple check because his mind just wasn’t where it should be.

“I don’t need you. Now get the hell out.”

He should have sent her the money, laid out a plan and put the plan fully into place before entering the picture himself. If he hadn’t gone there...

He wasn’t getting much done. He pushed the keyboard away, shaking his head. He had clients coming in within the hour. At least their folders were ready, and the review of the accounting figures would be easy. This was a good thing, because where his head was right now didn’t leave him a great deal of concentration.

“...so just leave, and don’t come back.”

He’d allowed himself to be chased off once. It was the last time that they’d seen each other six years ago. It was in college, and he was in her apartment. They’d been arguing more, but he didn’t expect her to actually call their wedding off and cast him to the wind. She’d used the same kind of language.

“Now get the hell out.”

No way was he going to be run off again. If he hadn’t gone there, things might have worked out differently. But in for a penny, in for a pound. Now that he’d shown himself, he wasn’t backing down, and she wasn’t keeping him from his child.

Children? Was it one, or was it both of them? The girl was bigger, but then girls grew faster. Right? He wasn’t sure, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

He’d only found out a few months ago that there was a child—or children. He’d been working, saving, building a life that he could offer Regina. He didn’t want her to see him until he had made it—made something of himself that contradicted the waste of time he’d been in college. The news had hit him square in the gut.

“You ever see Regina? You been in touch with her since then?”

He was visiting his parents at home when he’d run into one of his college buddies—the one who used to date Regina’s roommate. The question put him on guard because it pried into places he didn’t want opened.

“Why do you ask?”

He wanted to skirt the issue and let it die, but his friend persisted.

“Because I need to know if you ever found out.”

“Found out what?”

The silence and the cryptic way his friend was treading around the subject told him that whatever it was, it was serious.

“Found out what?”

“Look, I’m not supposed to know, but I’ve never stopped thinking that you should have known.”

“Known what?”

“Regina was pregnant when she graduated.”

“Pregnant?”

“She was pregnant, and it was yours, and that’s all I know.”

This was all the information he could get out of his old friend, but it sent him reeling.

Regina had called things off between them just before she graduated. They were supposed to graduate together from Howard University and then get married. Except that, by the end of senior year, he was still a year behind on his classes because he’d been partying too much.

His parents had never given up on him, even after his near-failing grade reports. When Regina put him out, he’d felt like nothing. He’d decided not to come back until he’d made something of himself, until he could show her that he could take care of things. Although he tried, he couldn’t do much about that semester, and he mourned the whole summer over their breakup. But the following semester, after she’d already finished and moved on, he was back with a vengeance, determined to prove himself.

He finished his undergraduate degree in accounting and did an internship within the year. Then he went on to an MBA in accounting and finance. He couldn’t get into an accelerated program because of his grade point average, but he used the two-year program to take real-estate and investment classes. He graduated at the top of his class and then sat for the CPA exam.

In a way, his goal had become money. He joined an accounting firm and used all his degrees to start amassing a bank account. Then he made a vertical move to the position he was in now so that he could move back to the DC area, where Regina still was.

But it wasn’t just money; he wanted everything that came with real success, real responsibility. And he wanted to be more cultured, too. No more baggy pants, no more ghetto fashion, no more looking like the hood. Everything about his life was bent on making it, looking the part, being professional, working hard, getting it right.

She’d gone to study with some artists for a year—or so he’d heard. But other than that, she had stayed in the area after their Howard years. He didn’t have many details; after a while people had finally started to get the message and had stopped telling him her activities. By the time she got back to DC after her year away, he was immersed in his own MBA program down home in South Carolina, trying to catch up. What his buddy had said fell into place. That year away would have been when she’d had their child.

Was it one child or two? Yes, he would be finding out.

He just had to get through the day. Then he had to get his game back and make it through the rest of the week. This weekend he would stake his claim.

* * *

Regina turned the car off and grabbed her purse. She’d had an errand to run for her morning office job, and then she had to drop off some of her pieces at a gallery downtown that was having a showing of local artists. By the time she got to the studio, she was running late.

She found Amelie finishing up with a customer. She had sold one of her large, bead-covered bowls and had a new beadwork project in process on the back table in the bead section.

“Sorry I’m late. I hope that means we’ve been doing well today.”

“No problem, and yes—relatively speaking. We’ve sold one of yours and one of mine. Whoo-hoo.”

There was no one else in the shop, so Regina started pulling out her project. “I don’t know if that’s anything to whoo-hoo about. But it’s good. We have to get our front fixed up soon.”

“I know. I registered us for the seminar you were talking about,” Amelie said, “the one at the community center on starting up a small business.”

“Oh, good. I’ve been working on our paperwork from the books I found.”

And she had been. It was like having another part-time job. Regina pulled out her tiles and began setting up her workstation.

“I didn’t make it to the post office today,” Regina said.

“I’m going to leave early to get some of my jewelry to the consignment shop. Is there anything you want me to take to the post office for you on my way?”

“No, I haven’t even wrapped the package yet. I’ll get it tomorrow. You take off.”

“Okay. I put out two new pieces. This one—” Amelie pointed to a necklace “—is made of yellow jasper beads with cowrie shell accents, and this one—” she pointed to a jewelry box “—is made with rose quartz and Czech glass.”

“They’re beautiful. You keep getting more elaborate.”

“That’s the point.”

After Amelie left, Regina sat down to her project. She was on the sky section and needed to break some more light blue and white tiles. It was the act of hammering the pieces under a cloth that made her think of Nigel. That fraud.

She replaced the cloth and banged the center of a large blue tile, splitting it into triangles. It had been almost a week since he’d appeared out of the blue, and she’d finally stopped worrying that every stranger who turned up might be him coming back for round two.

She straightened out the cloth and went for the triangles, smashing them into small trapezoids. She would get him his item and be done with him. She had too much going on in her life that she wanted to get done. She didn’t need one more thing to distract her.

* * *

Nigel checked the inside pocket of his sports suit to make sure he had everything. She wouldn’t be flinging his check back at him this time. He took a breath. No need to go there yet. He hadn’t gotten anything in the mail, so maybe her bark wasn’t as bad as her bite.

He got out of the car and started unloading the packages from the backseat. It was after 8:00 p.m. on a Sunday, and the studio was closed, so he assumed they’d be home, tomorrow being a school day. He’d get all the packages up the back steps before ringing the buzzer.

It was beginning to get dark outside, so when she opened the door, the warm, yellow light from inside haloed behind her and made her look like an angel—his angel. She had on white leggings and a summer camisole, but the soft fabrics hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth water.

Except that her hips were deeper, she hadn’t changed from the girl he loved. She had natural dimples in the curve of her cheeks so that she looked always on the verge of a smile, and her tapered waist flared out into the most luscious behind he’d ever seen. Even in the simple leggings that she had on now, she made his knees weak.

Her hair was different this time—pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck in a way that emphasized her umber eyes. The anger he saw form in her eyes at the sight of him in the doorway snapped him back to the present, to the fact that they were torn apart.

“Hello, Reggie.”

“Don’t hello me. What on earth are you doing at my house?”

The moment she opened her mouth, his calm was shattered, but he didn’t show it. There was no mistaking the animosity in her voice. She didn’t want him in her private space. She didn’t want him anywhere near her at all.

“I still need to speak with you. Can I come in?”

“No. No, you cannot. And I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He didn’t want to force things with her. He’d let her cut him off time and again in the studio, intentionally giving her the upper hand so that she could see that he wasn’t there to threaten her. But this time, he wasn’t going to back down. This time, he wasn’t going to be sent away.

“Look, Reggie. You and whoever you’re with will not keep me from my child. Or children. You don’t have the right to do that.”

“What?”

“I want to see my children. I know I haven’t been there for them so far, but that will not be the case from here on out.”

She sighed, and he saw some of the fight go out of her—not the rage or the anger that he saw in her eyes, but some of the fight. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned into the apartment, walking away from him.

He gathered up the packages from the stairwell and followed her inside. She had her back to him and seemed to be staring at the wall or at nothing, so he shut the door behind them.

He had been gone a long time. He knew that. Perhaps she had to decide if he was safe or if she was willing to share their children. Or perhaps she just needed to get her mind accustomed to the idea.

He was standing in what turned out to be the dining area, with a kitchen off to the side. There was no partition separating it from the living room, where she now stood.

The first thing he saw was the art. It filled her rooms with color, and she’d even painted the chairs and cabinets and bookshelves to make them pop. All of her touches filled the room—the African masks and dolls on the walls, the embroidered cushions on the sofa, the framed paintings and mosaics covering the walls. So much claimed his eyes that he almost missed how worn down the permanent structure underneath was.

The kitchen and dining nook seemed to have come straight out of the ’60s—battered wooden cabinets, ancient countertops, worn linoleum flooring—and the rest of the place didn’t fare much better. Downstairs, everything that they’d added stood out as new against the old.

Her voice tore him away from his perusal.

“How did you find out?”

He put his bundles down.

“I found out from someone who’s not supposed to know.”

“Please tell me.”

The resignation in her voice pulled at his heartstrings.

“I ran into your roommate’s ex-boyfriend a few months ago. But it shouldn’t have taken finding that out to make me come look for you. I just wanted to make something of myself before I did. But when I found out that you were pregnant when...when you called things off between us...Reggie, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you send me away without me knowing?”

He took a step toward her, but she took a step back.

“What would you have done? You were too busy hanging with your friends and blowing off school. You might have stayed, but it would have been for the wrong reasons. And I didn’t need you to make a life for...”

She shook her head, trailing off.

“But I should have known. I had a right to know. And if—”

“Let it go.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her jaw was set in a rigid line that told him she would not be offering any answer to that question.

“Where are they, Reggie? I want to see them. And I plan to be there for them from now on. It doesn’t matter if you’re with someone else. I’m still their father.”

He pulled the check out of his suit pocket.

“If you don’t want it, that’s fine. But they deserve it. And so do you. Where are they?”

She looked at him as he put the check down on the dining table, and what he saw in her wet eyes was a combination of sadness and hate.

She turned away from him again and buried her face in her hands. When she spoke, it was through tears, but it was with rage.

“There is no they.”

He didn’t understand. “What?”

“Don’t you get it? There is no they. There was no child.”

He wondered for a split second if she had...let go of it...after they had broken apart. But then he looked at her shaking shoulders. He knew her better than to think that.

“No child?”

It started to sink in. He wasn’t a father. The little boy he had seen wasn’t his. Nor the little girl. His child had not made it. His heart fell. He crossed over to her but stopped just behind her without touching her, not knowing how to comfort her, not knowing if she would receive his comfort.

“There was no child,” she said again, stammering. She whirled toward him, ready to strike, but didn’t. She just stopped and stared at his face, her own face crumpling.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him, but she wrangled against him.

“There was no child,” she repeated, lashing at his chest with her fists. It was like a dam had broken, as though she couldn’t stop herself once she’d started letting it out. She kept pummeling his chest with her fists as if it was his fault, or maybe because he’d been the one to make her say it, relive it. “And you weren’t there.”

She drew back after she said it—the truth of it all. She had tears spilling down her face, and her fists were still balled, ready to strike. Her eyes were red and wet, filled with rage and hate. And now he knew why.

Regina kept hammering at him, as if she wanted to pound him until all the hurt she had carried over the years was finally over. But when she stood back and looked up at his face, what she saw there stopped her. Nigel wondered if she could see that the disappointment in his eyes was as bottomless as her own heartbreak must have been. Nigel knew the moment that the resistance went out of her and stepped toward her, folding her in his arms again.

“When I saw the kids downstairs—”

He wanted to go on, but he couldn’t control his voice.

For a while she didn’t say anything but simply sobbed against his chest.

When she found her voice, it was shaky. “I was babysitting. Kyle belongs to Jason, and Tenisha to another friend. They’re not related, and they’re not even the same age. Kyle is five and a half, and Tenisha is seven.”

After she got the words out, she convulsed in tears again.

He just held her while she wept.

When he thought she was back in control, he ventured, “What happened...to ours?”

For a few moments, she cried harder. Then she took in a deep breath.

“I lost it. I miscarried.”

She broke from him and went to the window, trying to wipe her face with her hands.

“And guess when. Guess.”

Her tone was sardonic, but she was still fighting back her tears.

“On the day that would have been our wedding day,” she said.

He went to her and wrapped his arms around her again, but she fought him. “No. You weren’t there. You weren’t there.”

She hit at his shoulders with her open palms, her body racked by sobs.

He pulled her into his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Please. I didn’t know.”

“You should have known. You should have been there.”

“You sent me away, Reggie.”

She was silent, tears still streaming down her face. He held her and rubbed her back until her body shook less. He smoothed her hair and kissed her temples until her tears abated some. He ignored her periodic attempts to rustle from his arms.

When she had stilled, he pulled her chin up to look at her, to see that she was all right. Her eyes were red from crying, and her lips were tender from being pressed so hard together. He wanted to drain the redness from her eyes and soothe the pain out of her expression.

“I’m so sorry, Reggie, so sorry.”

He folded her against his chest and ran his hand down her back. In the quiet, he could feel the way her body pressed against his in the embrace. He wanted to feel that forever. He wanted to make her his again.

This time when he pulled her face up to his, he bent down, softly kissing her lips. He wanted to turn back time, to undo the hurt he’d caused, to be there when he should have been there.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

She said nothing, but she didn’t move from his arms either.

He bent his head to the side of her face and kissed her eyelid, her cheek, her earlobe. Then he cupped her head and took her mouth with his, parting her lips with his own and claiming her breath.

He felt her hands tighten around his upper arms and knew that her body was responding. He wanted to assuage the hurt inside her with his lips, pacify the anger out of her with his fingertips.

When he moved his tongue into her mouth, it opened for him, and a quiet murmur escaped into his mouth, igniting fire inside of him. She took a small step back, but he stepped with her, closing the gap between them before she could make it. He claimed her hips with his hands and pressed her against his loins. She sucked in her breath and then another murmur filled his mouth.

She put her arms around his neck, and her tongue played against his, inviting him deeper inside. He could read her desire. He had always been able to. It was clear that she was starting to want him the way he wanted her.

Nigel could sense the battle being waged inside Regina. The years of hurt and anger, of bearing the burden alone, were at odds with everything else that was happening between them. He wanted for everything else to win.

“Let me be there for you now,” he whispered against her lips.

Then he reclaimed her mouth, running his hands along her back. He couldn’t resist cupping her bottom and pulling her closer, and when he did, he felt a slight tilt of her hips as she drew nearer. He knew where she yearned, and he wanted to ease that need, even as his own grew hotter and less controllable with every passing minute.

He bent down farther, his mouth finding her neck, and cupped her buttocks again, lifting her body against his. When he heard her low moan against his ear, he lifted her off her feet and strode toward the back of the apartment to find her bedroom.

He expected her to stop him, but she said nothing while he eased her down on the bed and lowered himself over her, pressing his swollen groin against her sweet center. Instead, she reached for his arms and pulled him closer to her, kneading herself along his body. It had been so long for him that even this small movement sent him close to the edge, but he knew better than to let himself go. He knew that this was for her, that this was to let her know that she wasn’t alone all that time, that he was still loving her. It was to calm the sore places, to hush the anger and the rage.

He looked at her tearstained face in the moonlight. He had been waiting for this for so long, so long. Her fingers at his back let him know that his wait would soon be over. But he wouldn’t rush to that place. This was for her.

He settled next to her and slid his hand into her leggings. When he found the wetness of her womanhood, his loins leapt, and he heard her moan.

Her long, sepia legs came into view as he removed her leggings, and her beautiful breasts fell into the open as he pulled the camisole over her head and undid her bra. He pulled the bow from her hair and laid her back down. He meant to take his own clothes off as well, but the sight of her pulled him back to the bed.

When he took the closest breast into his mouth, he heard her moan. He couldn’t resist the feel of her nipple against his tongue, the feel of her wetness at his fingertips, the way her body writhed with his caresses. This was for her.

Before he lost control, he stood up and removed his suit, his shirt, the rest of his clothes. He found a condom and got it on quickly, returning to Regina’s side on the bedspread. He kissed her, reminding himself to take it slowly. This was for her.

He ran his hand over her body, listening for the places that made her breath heavy and feeling for the places that made her body sway toward his. He kissed her neck and pulled her leg over his thigh so that he could touch her warm, wet center again, and when he did, she let out a low, guttural moan that filled his body with need. He couldn’t wait any longer.

When he moved between her thighs, her legs spread for him, pressing against his hips. And when he entered her, her mouth opened beneath his, drawing him in. He pressed gently toward her center, stifling his own moan and barely able to keep control. It had always been this way for him with this woman.

She moaned as he pressed slowly inside of her. She was as tight as she had been the first time they had been together many years ago, tighter even than he remembered. Drowning in her beauty, he found her mouth and covered it again with his own. He had to remind himself to slow down, to take his time. He had been wanting this for so long, so long. But this was for her.

Chapter 3

Regina got up before the sun came up. The bed next to her was empty, but she had been wrapped in the top sheet and spread. Her body was still pleasantly tender from the activity of the night before, and she was glad to have some time to collect her thoughts before beginning her day. Even more so, she was glad to have time before facing Nigel again—time to figure out what to say, how to explain that things had gotten out of hand.

She knew she should have stopped him when he kissed her, but after the emotional roller coaster of the evening—the anger that he had come back again, the anguish over the fresh memory of the loss of their child, the unspeakable shame that she had lost it—after all of that, she needed those arms around her.

When she had looked in his face, she had finally seen someone who understood what having and then losing their child had meant to her. And for the first time, she had just let herself cry.

Someone could finally comprehend what she had been through, someone who felt the pain, as well. Maybe that was what had wrenched all of that turmoil to the top. Maybe that was what had made her vulnerable to his advances.

She should have stopped him when he ran his hand up and down her back, sending tingles through her, but right then, the wounds in her had finally found a place where they could be held, and she wasn’t willing to leave that shelter. She hadn’t been touched in so long. She hadn’t had a place to unburden the past. That’s what his hands did to her. They softened the rage; they caressed the hurt.

She should have stopped him when he carried her to her bedroom, but she hadn’t been touched with understanding in so long—the kind of understanding that made her needy and wanting. Yes, by then, she wanted it as much as he did.

She should have stopped him, but it had always been this way between them.

Regina kicked off the sheets and went into the bathroom to run a bath. It wasn’t her usual routine, but she had time, and it would help her calm down and think.

He was taller than he’d been before, but mostly, he was more in control, more able to take his time, more able to respond to her body rather than running along ahead of her. This made him a different lover than the one she had known.

Having him inside of her had felt just like the first time. He was slow and gentle. He filled her with his presence. At first, he had made long, slow thrusts, stroking the aches out of her and making her body arch off the bed. Then he had found her spots and made her eager, pushed her toward the edge.

He had kissed her tears, lulling her sadness away, consoling her heartbreak. But he had also run his thumbs over her breasts, lighting fire in her. Between the tenderness and the flame, she wasn’t sure which was most consuming, most arousing.

When he cupped her head in his palms and kissed her, the gentleness of his kiss had alleviated her anger and healed her bruises, but his chest moving along her breasts as he plunged inside of her made her wrap her legs around him and draw him farther inside.

“Reggie, Reggie, I’ve missed you so much,” he had murmured over and over.

His deep voice sent tingles down her back, and when he whispered it against her ear, her body had broken out in goose bumps, and an agonizing pressure built up at her center.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he had said.

She couldn’t speak, and she just held on, clinging to his shoulders. She only needed.

Then he had moved his hand down between them and begun to massage her while he moved inside of her, making her moan, making her grind against him, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Then the first waves of climax hit her, and her body gripped his length. He groaned and thrust against her, but waited for her full release before burying his face next to hers and bucking inside of her as he rode his own wave of orgasm. When it was over, she had turned from him, and he had pulled her back against his chest, and they had slept spooned together that way.

Remembering the night sent arrows of heat through Regina’s body. She was letting the memory overwhelm her, when she needed to be figuring out what to do now and where they would go from here.

Only, there was no they, and one night of passion didn’t erase six years of frustration and hurt and loneliness. It didn’t bring back their child or make their wedding happen. It didn’t turn back time.

* * *

Nigel had woken up early, before dawn. He couldn’t get back to sleep, but he didn’t want to wake up Regina. He thought about it—round two—but decided he had better not. His day would have to start in a bit, and he wouldn’t be able to take his time.

He just held her for a while, smiling to himself because she was back in his arms. His happiness was tainted by the fact that their child had been lost. He still needed to deal with that, and he needed to help Regina deal with it, too. He could see how much she was still hurting, and how angry she was that he hadn’t been there. He could never make up for that, but he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying.

Nigel slipped out of bed just as the sun was about to come up. He washed up as best he could, dressed and went to look for something for them to eat. He didn’t know whether she had to be up early on a Monday or what time the studio opened, but he knew he would wake her before he left. This way, they could have breakfast together. They could start their day and their lives together, start healing.

He found her key on the counter next to her purse and drove down the street to see if any place was open. It turned out that he could have walked, because the café on the corner already had customers. He got them bagels with cream cheese, bacon and eggs, pancakes, orange juice and coffee—more than they could eat.

When he got back, he heard her running water in the bathroom but decided not to disturb her just yet. He found a fork and sat down to his breakfast, checking out her pieces on the walls and thinking about where each one could go when they had their own place.

Nigel caught himself imagining their life together and sighed. They had a lot of talking and healing and forgiving left to do, but he was eager to begin the journey.

* * *

Regina didn’t smell the bacon until she was almost finished getting dressed. Was he still there? She threw on some slacks and a top and peeked out of her bedroom.

He smiled at her from the dining table and began moving the packages he had brought the night before to clear a space for her to sit. His smile almost turned his face into the boyish one she had known before—almost. The cheeks plumped out the way they used to, but the rougher angles remained.

“I thought I smelled bacon...”

“Good morning, beautiful. You did.”

“...but I knew I didn’t have bacon in the house.”

“No, I ran down to the corner to get us something. I hope you’re hungry because I think I overdid it. Come sit.”

Before she could sit down, he pulled her onto his lap and into a long hug. He kissed her cheek and her forehead. He didn’t seem to notice that her body stiffened now at this touch. And before she could protest to the affection, he released her to the chair he had cleared.

She could tell that they weren’t on the same page about last night. She wasn’t ready to broach the issue, but she knew she had to.

“I thought you were gone,” she said.

He must have read that hesitance in her voice as concern or disappointment because he slid his hand under her chin to pull her face toward his. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and said, “No, no way. You must think I’m a rat.”

He let her face go and uncovered her plate and juice, smiling at her. “I know I have a lot to make up for, a lot to prove, but I won’t be running out ever again. I just went to get us some eats. I figured we needed it after last night, which was...amazing.”

Regina looked at the mound of food in front of her and tried to figure out how to get them on the same page.

“I got up early and didn’t want to wake you. I didn’t know what time you had to be up.”

“Early.”

“Then eat up.”

Regina heard the mirth in Nigel’s tone when he mentioned last night. She read the possessiveness in Nigel’s eyes when he looked at her. In contrast, she couldn’t even bring herself to eat. Tired of pushing the food around on the plate, she put the fork down and just looked at it, trying to find the right words.

He came around the table and knelt down next to her chair.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Reggie? I know there’s hurt, but we’ll face that together now.” He put his arms around her and pulled her toward his chest. Regina tensed, not responding to the embrace.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I think we need to talk.”

Nigel scooted back onto his chair. He bent toward her and covered her hand with his own. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“Last night was...”

She saw his face drop, as if he could tell what was coming.

“...like it used to be between us.”

“But?”

“But it’s just what it was.”

“Which is?”

“Something we both needed.”

He let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair.

“That’s not all it was, Reggie. Don’t you know that?”

His voice was calm and sincere, but it had an edge that bordered on exasperation. His eyes pleaded with her to see it his way.

“That’s all it can be. I don’t even know you anymore.”

“But that’s what I want, Reggie—for us to spend the time getting to know one another again. You don’t have to make any decisions now. Just give it a chance.”

Regina got up and covered her plate before taking it to the fridge. She needed to be away from his eyes for a minute, to have something to do with her hands. His eyes followed her every move.

“No. We had a chance. I can’t go back there. Maybe I’m just finally getting over what happened back then.”

“Maybe I am, too. Maybe it’s something we can do together.”

She whirled around and looked right at him. “I can’t just forgive you for leaving and then for not being there when I needed you.”

He balled his fists and shook his head. They had finally gotten to the real issue.

“You told me to leave. You put me out. You can’t put me out and then hold it against me when I go. And you didn’t tell me about...the baby.”

“We were engaged. I needed you to be more serious about life, especially about our life together. You weren’t supposed to jump ship. You were supposed to grow up. You should have been there.”

“How can—”

“Stop. I’m not going to argue with you. And that’s all we can do now because we’re never going to agree on it.”

Regina got up from the table. This wasn’t going well. They were never going to see eye to eye. She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a small, black jewelry case.

“Here.”

She handed him the case, and he opened it. It was his grandmother’s wedding ring.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to mail it.”

“It wasn’t just time. If it was that important, you would have mailed it. There’s a reason you didn’t make the time to do it.”

She considered his statement. Maybe it was true. Maybe she’d dawdled because part of her wanted to keep the past alive, to have a keepsake of it.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to let it go. I am now.”

“I don’t want this back, Reggie. It was for you.”

“It belongs in your family, Nigel, not mine.”

Nigel shook his head. She knew he was fighting a losing battle over the past. Regina saw the disappointment in his face, but it had to be this way. She went back to the dining table and sat down, turning to look at him seriously.

“Now it really is over between us. There’s no reason we need to have contact again.”

“Reggie, this isn’t what I wanted to happen. I want us to have—”

He moved to touch her, but she pulled away. His touches made her stop thinking straight, and right now, she needed all of her faculties.

“I know this seems crazy after...last night.”

“Last night was something special. Don’t throw it away.”

“I...I’d just been holding so much in for so long. I guess it all came out. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t know it would happen. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“It was meant to happen. It’s always been that way between us.”

She shook her head and picked up the check from last night, which was still on the table.

“And this.” She ripped it up like she had the other one. “I’m doing fine on my own, and there is no...child...that you need to care for.”

It was ending, really ending, and her heart had grown heavy with the reality of it, as heavy as the look on Nigel’s face.

She took a teddy bear out of one of the bags on the seat next to hers. It had on a baseball jersey and a cap and had a bat sewn to its hands. It brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.

“Reggie, we’re not meant to end.”

“We ended a long time ago. Over six years ago.”

She turned the teddy bear around in her hand and found a string to pull to make it talk. She fingered the string but didn’t pull it.

“Do you know anyone you can give these to?”

Nigel took a deep breath and looked at the bear in her hands, seeming to feel the same wistfulness she did.

“I have little cousins.”

“Good.”

She shook her head. There was one more thing that she wanted to say.

“Nigel, I’m sorry...it has to end this way.”

But that wasn’t what was on her mind. It wasn’t what was in her heart. She was thinking about having lost their child, but she had no way to speak her shame.

“It shouldn’t end this way. It doesn’t have to.”

“Yes, it does.”

* * *

Nigel carried his packages back down to his car with a heavy heart. He’d almost had it all back, but now he didn’t have any of it. He could have spent all day trying to convince her to give them a chance, but until she could forgive him, he knew that no effort on his part would make a difference.

He opened his trunk and put in the packages. There was no need to keep them now. There was no boy, no girl.

He would have taken the day off if she had been willing to spend it with him. Now he had an hour to get to his place, shower, shave, change clothes and get to the office. Fine.

He’d gone from ecstasy to despair in less than twenty-four hours, and now she had simply shut him down. But he wasn’t going out like that. He had worked too hard to get this far. He would have to bide his time until he could come up with a new point of entry, a new way to get her to soften her heart to him. It still wasn’t over, not yet.

Chapter 4

It had been two weeks since she had seen Nigel, and Regina’s spirits were finally picking up after the emotional turmoil. She had her focus back, and she had an on-site installation to keep her busy.

“Are you going to take off from your morning job tomorrow to get the installation done?”

Amelie was at a workstation in the back of the studio stringing an elaborate necklace—one with rows of turquoise and cowrie shells that tapered to a long V. They didn’t have any customers at the moment, so she and Regina could chat across the back of the shop.

“No, I’ll still need the money,” Regina said. “That’s the only reason I have that secretary job to begin with—steady income until our income here gets steady. Will you be able to stay late next week so that we don’t have to shut down too early?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ve already covered all of my evening jewelry-making classes at the bead shop. We’ll only have to close early one day.”

Regina had a large order to install in a couple of weeks—a custom kitchen backsplash that she’d been working on for most of the last month. It would bring in some much-needed money, so she had to forgo her hours at the store. Half of the money that came in would be going to renovations, so it was worth losing some income at the store.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Regina said with a smile.

“No prob. You cover for me enough, and you’re here more hours than I am anyway.”

“Yes, but right now, your beadwork is bringing in more income than the mosaic pieces.”

It was true. Amelie was a talented bead artist and sold beadwork supplies as well as her own pieces—mostly jewelry but also hair accents, art objects and even some clothes.

“Oh, mostly the small stuff. My biggest pieces are still sitting here.”

“As are mine.”

Regina made more from her installations than from the studio, but she did mosaics of just about everything one could think of. She had her standing art pieces, but she also did tables, mirrors, planters, sculptures—anything strong enough to stand a layer of tile and grout. For installations, though, she did kitchens, pools, walks, stairs and fireplaces. She’d even done a patio once.

“You know what we need?” Amelie said. “A showing.”

“After we finish the renovations, we should have a real grand opening.”

“And we need to change the name.”

“Actually,” said Regina, “we need to do that now. I’ve been looking into getting our website back on track, and we should get all the updates done at the same time—save money.”

“Speaking of which, I got information about the seminars at the community center you mentioned—the ones I signed us up for.”

Regina looked up from the tiles she was laying out. “Excellent. I’ve been working on the paperwork, but it’s like figuring out tax forms. Why didn’t they teach us this business stuff in college?”

“At least you went to college.”

“Girl, you did, too. You just took your classes in different places one by one. Then you taught yourself. I admire you for that.”

Amelie looked up from her necklace and smiled. “Thank you, sweetie. About the name, we need to get something Black in there, let people know that there are some sisters up in here with some culture.”

“I agree with you there. I actually want to do some more African sculptures. When the front is redone, we can put them in the window with some of your work that has the cowrie beads. More than half of what we do has a Black flavor. We need to find a way to announce that.”

“And we need some incense.”

“No.” Regina groaned and waved her hand in front of her face. “We have enough smells in here with the paints and the clay and your soldering and the hot glue.”

“That’s why we need the incense.”

“No, our classes will pass out from all the fumes.”

The door chime sounded as a couple came in. Amelie winked over at Regina; it was Regina’s turn to see to the customers. She pushed her mosaic onto the table, grabbed a wet rag to get the mastic off her hands and got up to approach the couple.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you find anything today?”

Regina showed them her various mosaic pieces and then the beadwork. They stopped for a long time in front of one of her favorite mosaics, a large piece of a woman in a sarong looking over a patio at the ocean and horizon. They seemed interested in it and took one of her business cards from the counter. They even looked over her portfolio of in-home installations, but Regina couldn’t tell if they would come back.

By the time she was done, Amelie had already begun wrapping up her project and getting ready to leave for the afternoon, as usual.

Mr. Lundstrum came in just before she left.

“Regina has our rent check ready for you, Mr. Lundstrum.”

“I do. It’s under the register,” Regina said.

Their landlord was an old man and walked with a cane. It was clear that he hadn’t had the ability to look after this place for a long time. But he was pleased with the upgrades they’d made and liked having them as tenants.

“Come, my dears. I have a bit of hard news.”

“What is it?” Regina asked, worried that something had happened to his wife, who was also getting on in years and was not as agile as her husband.

“Well, this won’t be easy for you to hear.”

He settled down in one of the chairs at Regina’s worktable and sighed heavily.

“You know I’ve been waiting for you to come up with the down payment on this place. You had first refusal.”

“Oh, no.” Regina could tell what he was getting ready to say, and her heart sank.

“What? What is it?” Amelie hadn’t caught the clue.

“You’ve taken another offer on the house, haven’t you?”

“I’m sorry, dear. I just had to.”

Amelie turned to Regina. “What are we going to do?”

“Mr. Lundstrum, can’t you give us more time? I have an installation in a couple of weeks. That’s a couple of thousand dollars. We can give you that. It’s not the down payment, but...”

Regina didn’t know what else to say. Thankfully, Amelie stepped in.

“We have a good portion of it saved up, and we’re looking for a small-business loan now. Just a little more time is all we need.”

“I’m so sorry. My granddaughter starts her junior year at American University in a couple of months, and we’re strapped. Retirement and the rent on this place haven’t been enough, with school bills and all. We needed somebody who could pay now.”

The old man took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. His sight was going, as well.

“Gentleman in a fine suit came in willing to pay more than we’re asking—pay it now, one time. Wife and I couldn’t say no. Was like looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Oh, no,” said Amelie. “What do we do now?”

“Isn’t there anything we can do, Mr. Lundstrum? Anything?” Regina asked.

“I’m so sorry, girls. We just had to take it. Wife wouldn’t want me to tell y’all, but the savings is almost gone—with the economy and all. This way we can pay tuition and put some in the bank to replace what’s gone.”

Regina sighed heavily. “I understand.”

“We wanted it to go to you, help y’all out. But weren’t no way we could wait. Look, I know it’s hard. You just forget about the rent this month and the month after that.”

“We can’t do that,” Regina said firmly. “Can we contact him, Mr. Lundstrum—the gentleman who’s buying the place? I know it’s a long shot, but maybe if he hears us out, if he knows how much we’ve put into this place already, maybe he’ll let us have it after all.”

The old man patted his pockets. “I know I’ve seen his card. Had one of those little cases you hold business cards in. I think I gave it to the real-estate agent we got to handle the sale for us. I’ll get it for you, but dear—” he looked at Regina “—don’t hold out hope for that. He’ll want more than you were going to pay.”

“I know you’re right,” Regina said, “but we have to try.”

“I’ll bring you the information tomorrow.”

“When do we have to be out?” Amelie asked.

“Six weeks from the first of next month. I wanted to give you some time to find someplace new to sell your things.”

“Six weeks for upstairs, as well?” Regina asked.

“Yes, ma’am, the whole building’s gone. He worked for some kind of investment firm. He’ll probably turn it into another restaurant or something. Said he had someone come check it out just a couple of weeks ago.”

Regina went to the cash register and returned with the rent check.

“Here is this month’s rent. We wouldn’t think of not paying it.”

Amelie gave her a wry look but went along.

Mr. Lundstrum crumpled the check in his hand and left it on the table.

“No, dear, no. You’ll need that to find another place to live in, another shop. I know I’m going back on my word to you. I told you I would wait and sell this place to you, didn’t I? Give you time to fix it up a bit and get her going. Didn’t I?”

Tears filled Regina’s eyes and spilled down her face. Her dream for the shop was being ripped away. “Yes.”

Amelie’s arms went around her shoulders and the two women hugged one another.

“Don’t cry,” Amelie said. “You never cry. Now you’ll start me crying.”

But Amelie was already crying, as well.

“I gave my word,” said Mr. Lundstrum. “And here I am going back on it. It’s the last thing I wanted to do. And you’ve got only two months to figure things out and move. I’m so sorry, girls. We just had to take it. Else I don’t know what we’d do for tuition next fall. But that means the least I can do is cut you some slack on the last two months of rent. I won’t take it, no matter what you do.”

“We appreciate it. We really do,” Amelie said.

Regina pulled herself together and let out a deep sigh.

“Thank you, Mr. Lundstrum. Thank you. We understand that you would have waited for us if you could have. And we appreciate you giving us a break on the rent to help us move.”

“Y’all start looking for a place right away. Won’t be easy to find one in this neighborhood.”

“It’ll be impossible to find one here,” Amelie said, but Regina gave her a look that stopped her from going on.

“We’ll start looking,” Regina said. “I’ll let you know what we find.”

After walking Mr. Lundstrum to the door, Amelie flipped the store sign to Closed and locked the door and leaned against it.

“What are we going to do?”

Regina heard the devastation in Amelie’s voice.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. This changes our whole business plan—everything. We’ll need to find a new space—”

“And it sure won’t be in the art district,” Amelie said. “There isn’t a vacancy anywhere around here, and if there is, we can’t afford it.”

“We can check, but I know you’re right. That’s how we ended up here.”

Regina was on the verge of tears again. She looked around the shop, at all they had done already, all the money they’d invested in fixing things up. But she didn’t want to give in to those tears. It wasn’t hopeless; it was just overwhelming.

“We can’t figure it all out right now,” she said. “Let’s finish the day as usual and then start to create some kind of plan tonight—when to go looking for other places, how to move things, where things can go in the meantime.”

“You’re right. I have to get these pieces to the consignment store and then get to my sister’s shower with a present. It’s too early to panic,” Amelie said, but Regina could read the disappointment in her voice. “Let’s talk tonight.”

After Amelie left, Regina tried to carry on with her regular tasks, but her mind kept churning. If they couldn’t find a place in the art district, maybe they should try to get a space downtown. But that would be way out of their price range. Their business proposal wouldn’t float without a location. They even needed an address for their website.

She worked as efficiently as she could on the mosaic for the installation. All of a sudden, that project took on a whole new significance. A couple thousand dollars could make a big difference right now for her apartment search.

Of course she had some money in her savings, and she had her morning job, which could always pay rent. And her parents would always let her come back home temporarily, but she had no intention of asking them for assistance. She had to figure this out.

A man had come in offering more than the asking price for the place. He probably knew it was worth more than Mr. Lundstrum was asking, too.

Regina’s mind suddenly flew to Nigel—flashing five-thousand-dollar checks around and wearing his fancy suits. He had had a case for his business cards, and if she remembered correctly, his card said he worked at an investing firm. He was also the only one she could think of who hadn’t come in shopping. Could he have been the one to make an offer on the place? Did he know that she was planning to buy it? He could see that they were trying to fix it up; he might have assumed that they were trying to get it. If it was him, she was going to be angry as a wet cat.

In fact, the more she thought about the possibility, the angrier she got. Maybe he wanted it as leverage to try to get her back. There he was thinking he could buy her again. Or it could be that he was trying to get back at her for not seeing him. Or... What else, she didn’t know, but she sure as hell was going to find out.

It was three o’clock, and no customers were there. She could close the store for a couple of hours and probably not miss a sale. She called Amelie to let her know, ran upstairs for Nigel’s business card and got in her car.

Chapter 5

She could tell from the outside of the building that she would feel out of place entering the investment and accounting firm of Hoffman, Johnson and Dowd, and when the elevators opened on their floor, she knew she hadn’t been mistaken. They had plush beige carpets, mahogany furniture and expensive art in the lobby, and she was greeted simultaneously by two receptionists. Everything about the place was swank.

“How may I help you?” one of the receptionists asked.

“I’m here to see Nigel Johns, and no, I do not have an appointment.”

“Who may I say is here?”

“Regina Gibson.”

“Does he know what you’re here about?”

“I believe he does.”

“He has someone in his office right now, but as soon as he’s free, I’ll let him know. Please have a seat.”

The receptionist gestured toward the waiting area, but Regina didn’t feel like sitting down.

“Can I get you coffee, a soda?”

“No, thank you.”

She remained standing but moved off to the side.

She spotted the door marked Nigel Johns from her spot in front of the receptionist’s desk, and though she didn’t have an appointment, she moved right for it when she saw it swing open. Her orange capris, African-print chemise tank and flat gold sandals may not fit in with the decor, but her anger made her more than assertive.

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