Coming Back To You (3 page)

Chocolate Chunk Brownies.
She liked
the sound of that.

Yes, that would work. The name was
perfect.

After typing it out, she sat back and pursed
her lips as a fresh wave of emotion coursed through her, causing
another batch of tears to erupt on the rims of her lower
eyelids.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her
mouth as she remembered the night Mark had taught her the lesson of
the chocolate chunk brownie. Who would have thought a reference to
dessert would become the keystone to their entire relationship?

“Damn you, Mark,” she said quietly. “Why did
you make me fall in love with you.” She knew it wasn’t his fault,
but it felt good to blame him and vent a little anger his way. If
he hadn’t been so damn perfect, she wouldn’t be so miserable.

Satisfied with the look and title of her blog, it was
time to lay out her heart, strip herself bare, and use the blog for
its intended purpose. To let Mark go.

They say you never forget your first true love…that
one special person who touched your heart before anyone else, and
who, with just a thought, can still set hummingbirds to flight
inside your stomach. He will always be there, even though he’s
gone. He will always hold a special part of your soul. A part he
ripped from your body—because it belongs to him now—and left an
empty hole that rejects any attempt to fill it with a memory. A
place that aches so acutely and with such intensity that you feel
as though you will never be able to breathe deeply enough
again.

I don’t know who “they” are or how they came
to know such truths, but I know they’re right.

Last May, I met my first true love. I’ll
call him M. He was a consultant where I work. Dark brown hair,
intense grey-green eyes, and a voice so rich and alive I could
almost wrap it around me like a favorite sweater. One made of
cashmere and the shade of buttered toffee, and just as delicious to
hear. He was over six feet tall and who cares how many pounds?
Every ounce of him was sexy. Ideal. Perfect in every way.

From the day I met him, I knew there was
something special about M. But I never would have guessed just how
special he would become or that I would fall in love with him.

But I did fall, and not just fall, but
tumbled head over heels down a ravine so steep and deep that I
don’t think I’ll ever be able to climb my way out. And, to be
honest, I’m not sure I want to. I like remembering him. I like the
memories we made together. If remaining in this hellish crack
inside my heart, where all I have left is his memory, is the only
way I can be close to him, then this is where I want to stay.

My dad tells me to “get over him.” My
friends urge me to “forget him and move on.” They say that’s the
healthiest way to move forward. But I don’t want to get over him. I
don’t want to forget him or be “healthy.” I don’t want to move
forward at all. I want to go back. I want to reverse the clock so
that I can relive every incredible, magical, unbelievable, erotic
moment all over again. And when we reach the last day we spent
together, when he made love to me for the last time and held me in
his arms, raining kisses over my face, I want to freeze time. I
want to stay in that moment forever. I don’t want to fall asleep
and miss those final precious hours. I don’t want to watch him
drive away for the last time, out of my life forever.

But my pain is partly my fault.

I let him go.

I could have seen him one last time. He gave
me a chance to see him and I chose not to. Maybe…just maybe…if I
hadn’t responded to his text and had hurried home to meet him,
things would be different now. Maybe I would have fought harder to
make him see how right we were together. Maybe I would have
convinced him that we could make it work. Maybe he would be here
with me now, watching Home Alone, his arms around me, if I had just
made an effort.

Maybe.

But now it’s too late, and I’m
brokenhearted.

Ask me what I wouldn’t sacrifice to have
that chance back. Ask me what I wouldn’t give for just a few more
minutes with him.

Nothing. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to
see him just one more time.

Karma slapped her hands over her face as her
body shook from sobs. Reliving that last day was torture. She could
still see him from her hiding place across the road, still remember
in crisp detail the expression on his face as he read her last
text. He had seemed disappointed, but he had honored the hidden
meaning in her words. Beyond telling her good-bye, he hadn’t tried
to contact her again.

She thought that would have made moving on
easier. Fail.

She grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes and
nose, then turned back to her blog.

What would have happened that day if I hadn’t
answered his text? Would he have come for me as he threatened to? I
guess I’ll never know, but I suppose it’s not healthy to live in
the past, wondering what could have been if only I’d done things
differently.

Maybe the lesson in all this is I need to
learn how to look forward instead of back. I need to take what M
taught me and apply it toward my future. Believe me, I’m trying.
It’s just hard.

But then who ever said life was supposed to
be easy?

Chapter 3

New Year’s Eve

“Mark, this is Crystal. Crystal, meet my friend,
Mark.”

What the hell is Rob thinking? Mark was in no
mood to be set up on a blind date.

Standing inside the entrance to Boka, one of
Chicago’s premier restaurants, Mark shot Rob an icy glare. Rob
should have known Mark wasn’t on the market and hadn’t been for
months.

Shifting gears, he cleared his throat and
turned toward Holly’s friend. “Pleasure to meet you, Crystal.” He
could at least play civil for a few hours. He would deal with Rob
later.

“The pleasure’s mine.” Her gaze ranged his
face as she smiled.

If Mark had known Rob and Holly had planned
to fix him up tonight, he wouldn’t have come. He would have stayed
home to ring in the New Year alone. Not that he didn’t think
Crystal was attractive. She was gorgeous. Long black hair, bright
blue eyes, full lips, slim waist. Crystal was the whole
package.

She just wasn’t the
right
package.
There was room for only one woman in his thoughts right now, and
Crystal wasn’t her. And he could already tell she was going to give
him a headache. Not a good sign.

“Mark’s a consultant with Carter Mitchell,”
Rob said when Mark didn’t say anything further.

“Impressive.” Crystal’s perfect black eyebrow
arched as if she approved.

Carter Mitchell was one of the top consulting
firms in the country. He wondered if Crystal knew that or if she
had just said “impressive” to make him think she did. The clueless
sparkle in her eyes suggested the latter.

In his experience, a lot of women put on
false pretenses because they thought that would make a man more
interested. Such shenanigans didn’t work on Mark. He liked women
who were real. Who weren’t ashamed of their lack of knowledge. If
Crystal had simply said, “What’s Carter Mitchell?” he would have
been more impressed.

Mark shifted side to side and glanced away.
Boka certainly was crowded. Then again, it was New Year’s Eve. What
did he expect?

Turning his attention back to his blind date,
he said, “What do you do, Crystal?”

Maybe he didn’t want to be there, and maybe
Crystal was on the path of trying too hard to capture his
attention, but he didn’t need to forget his manners. He was nothing
if not the picture of controlled politeness, even though what he
really wanted to do was spin on his heel and walk out. But Mark had
spent years putting on a false front. By now, he was good at it.
Although, for the first time, being someone he wasn’t felt more
like a chore instead of a choice. It was just one more symptom of
what he dubbed the
Karma Effect
. For months, he’d grown more
ill at ease over habits that had once been ingrained behavior. His
resolve to stay true to the past was slowly flaking away.

“I’m a pediatric nurse, but I’m also a
Luvabull.” Crystal flipped her hair off her shoulder and flashed a
bleached, straight-toothed smile.

Luvabulls were the dancers who performed
during Chicago Bulls games. She definitely looked the part.

“A nurse, huh?” Mark said. “That’s a noble
profession.”

She stepped closer and touched his arm. “I
just love working with children.”

“I bet it can be hard, though, seeing them
when they’re sick.” Blah, blah, blah. The last thing he wanted to
talk to this woman about was children. He could already tell she
was sizing him up as a potential sperm donor for her own, and he
feared the more they stayed on the subject, the more hopeful she
would become. He was not interested in becoming her stud. Let
another man sire her offspring.

“Oh, yes.” She touched his hand this time,
leaning in so her breast brushed his arm. “But it’s also rewarding
when they get well. And of course there’s…”

Mark tuned out as the crowd sucked Crystal’s
words into a vacuum. He nodded, only catching every third or fourth
word. Off to the side, hand in hand, Rob and Holly smiled at each
other like proud parents. Clearly, they thought tonight’s surprise
meet and greet was a success. Rob wouldn’t be smiling later when
Mark had a heart-to-heart with him about being blindsided.

A couple of local sports stars worked their
way through the crowd, causing a small murmur of excitement.
Flashbulbs went off, and Mark spotted the local paparazzi hovering
nearby. No doubt the media hounds would be busy tonight, scurrying
from party to party in an effort to capture New Year’s Eve in
Chicago.

As distracted as he was, he didn’t notice
that Crystal had wrapped her arm around his until she gave him a
tug. He turned to find their party had been called. Abandoning the
crowded front entrance, he followed the others to their table.

During dinner, Crystal droned on and on,
barely coming up for air. And when she did, Rob or Holly filled the
blessed silence with another godforsaken topic that sent Crystal on
another verbal crusade.

After dinner, the four climbed into Rob’s
rented limousine and headed to the Palmer House Hilton, then up to
the fourth floor ballrooms. Chicago’s biggest New Year’s Eve party
was already well underway, but all Mark could see was the way the
room had looked eight months ago, when he had been there for the
Chicago Arts Coalition’s annual charity benefit.

His life had changed that night, but right
now, he wasn’t sure if it had changed for better or worse. He was
in love, but he was alone. Not even the tattoo on his chest or a
reminder that this was all part of the patient journey he had to
take to find his way back to her made him feel better. He’d never
felt such empty yearning.

That was his own fault, though. He’d walked
away from Karma. He’d been the one to end the relationship. His
reasons were well established and, at the time, rational. But now,
as with so many other aspects of his life, he was beginning to
question his motives, his rationale, and how emotionally closeted
he’d allowed himself to become since his doomed wedding day seven
years ago.

He hadn’t counted on Karma. He hadn’t counted
on falling in love with her.

But as much as he loved her, the more time
that passed the harder reaching out to her became. And after what
Razor had said to him a month ago, he shouldn’t try reaching out to
her at all.
Let go. Have faith.
Talk about your rocks and
hard places. On one side, he loved her so much it hurt to be
without her. On the other, he feared reconnecting. What if she had
moved on? What if she turned him away again the way she had that
last day when he texted her. He had told her he would stop by her
apartment if she didn’t answer him. Her response had said it
all.

Good-bye, Mark
.

Her message had been clear. She was moving
forward without him, and she wanted him to do the same. But he
hadn’t told her how he felt. Maybe that would have made a
difference. Then again, maybe not. Because he still would have
returned to Chicago and she still would have stayed in
Indianapolis. The distance wasn’t conducive to a relationship. So
maybe it was better this way. But if that were true, why couldn’t
he stop thinking about her?

But there was a third side to his inner
turmoil. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was better off
without him. That if he did return to her, he would only let her
down and hurt her again.

So yeah, he was between a rock and a hard
place and couldn’t move side to side. Triple whammy. If he put his
heart on the line again and reached out to her only to be rejected,
he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t fall back into the hell he’d gone
through after Carol fucked him over. He couldn’t live through that
kind of agony again. Maybe the sign he was waiting for would never
come. Maybe the sign he should be seeing was that he should just
move on and let Karma do the same so he didn’t destroy them
both.

Strange how one life-shattering experience
could alter his life so badly that he couldn’t even trust himself
or his own decisions. But he’d lived in fear for so long he
couldn’t see any other way. He realized that now. He admitted to
himself he was afraid, but he kept that shit hidden and wrapped so
tightly that anyone who met him only saw unshakeable confidence and
power. His fear was his and his alone.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t dealing well with
it, because fear was winning in his battle to find a way back into
Karma’s life. One that didn’t involve risking humiliation or
failing to live up to her expectations.

Be patient.

But the more he tried to remind himself to be
patient, the more
impatient
he grew. If the universe
intended to reunite him with Karma, it was taking way too long. He
could feel his innate need to regain control creeping in, but that
could blow everything.