At least one of them had the pleasure of ending their woman’s nightmare. Aldo would always regret not being able to do more than take that one swing at Glenn. But he hadn’t. Now, he was alone again. Except for his friends, his family, and his god-awful cat. But he missed Gloria with a fierceness that took his breath. He was giving her the time she’d asked for, but every beat of his heart was like a prayer offered up that she would come back.

When Aldo left, he felt a little lighter, more hopeful.

Luke would win Harper back. And if his dipshit best friend could make love work, then there was hope for him and Gloria.

Gloria. He checked his phone again, then tossed it on the seat next to him. Still nothing from her. He’d promised her space. But damn it, this was feeling more like a void, a vacuum.

There wasn’t anything he could do to convince her to come back. But there was something he could do to make her life a little better. He turned away from the office, and as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his first smile in days curved his lips.

78

She’d fucked up. Big time.

Gloria woke up that morning—after yet another mostly sleepless night—with the clarity she’d been seeking. Waking up in this small bed with no big Aldo was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

Damn it all to hell. She was an idiot.

She’d let fear and self-doubt creep in and whisper in her ears. Luke’s damage wasn’t hers. Harper’s broken heart wasn’t hers.

But that big, glowing love for Aldo Moretta that started in the center of her chest and worked its way out to her fingertips and toes and roots of her hair? That was all hers.

And she was going to fix it. Somehow, she decided, opening her makeup drawer. Most of her good stuff was at Aldo’s. The man had made the mistake of giving her a Sephora gift card that disappeared so fast he’d given her another one the very next day.

Yes, she’d fix this mess she’d made.

But first, she was going to fix herself.

* * *

The prison smelled like bleach and mothballs, a musty kind of chemical scent that overpowered Gloria’s floral perfume. She sat on one side of the glass and tapped a nail to the stainless-steel counter, wondering if she’d lost her damn mind.

The fluorescent light above her flickered, drawing her attention. A steel door on the other side of the glass opened. Gloria craned her neck to see through the small window. It was him. Glenn Diller in a baggy, orange jumpsuit.