“Are. Now and always, Florence. No other woman brought me such happiness or understood me as you did. You didn’t seem to mind my black heart or jagged scars.” He shoved his fingers into his hair and pulled roughly on the disheveled strands. “Christ, without you, it’s as if the whole world has gone dark. I can’t breathe without missing you.”

“Yet you’re ready to give up. Move away.”

“You can do better than me. Hell, you should do better than me. Your family will never accept me. Society will never accept me. A future together means turning your back on everything you know. I cannot do that to you.”

“I am capable of making my own choices, Clay. Do not turn into my father and start dictating how my life will unfold.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head once. “You’re right. I apologize. I’ve told you how I feel. Now it’s your turn. What do you want, Florence?”

What did she want? Other than focusing on the casino, she hadn’t ceased being angry and hurt long enough to think about it. But she knew she couldn’t undo the past, and she believed in looking ahead, not behind.

Are you ready to live the rest of your life without him?

Justine’s words came back to her and the answer was there, as plain as day. No, she wasn’t. But forgiving him was a huge leap of faith, a bet that she might end up losing. He might hurt her once more.

Then again, she might hurt him. There were no guarantees in games of chance or in matters of the heart. Everything was a gamble.

Still, the words to forgive him wouldn’t come. In the past she’d made decisions quickly, decisively. From her gut and without a care for anyone else’s feelings.

And that had nearly destroyed her family.

To move forward, she had to learn patience, to curb her impulsive nature. Think matters through carefully before leaping. She had to act differently this time.

Yes, Clay had given her his club and returned Granny’s deed. But he’d been ready to move away, to leave the city. Leave her. She had to believe in her heart that he would be willing to do anything, scale any heights, to win her back. She needed action, not promises.

Her earlier conversation gave her an idea. It was terrible, really. Everything Clay hated.

Which made it absolutely perfect.

Exhaling, she met his steady gaze with her own. “I’ve always enjoyed taking a risk.”

He swallowed hard, the column of his throat working. Hope lit the dark depths of his gaze for the first time since she walked in. “Is that so?”

“Yes, but you’ll need to prove you mean what you say.”

“I have never lied to you.”

“Semantics and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, then?”