Please don’t change. You are the most beautiful woman on earth, inside and out. I wish I’d told you this more when we were together. Vincent told me once that you weren’t naive. He thought that maybe your kindness would be construed as that. I tried not to scoff. There is nothing naive about you, Lauren. You are good and kind and see the best in people. It’s a part of you that I love. Don’t lose faith just because of my fuckup.

Do you think I can call you? Maybe, if we spoke, I could explain everything more clearly.

Missing you.

23

Slade

It’s been two weeks since my last e-mail, and she didn’t respond. I drop my car off in the airport’s parking lot and get on a flight to California. Maybe it’s extreme, and I should take things more slowly. But fuck slow. I know who I want and what I want, and it’s Lauren. E-mails aren’t enough. The fact that there is another man trying to inch himself into her life doesn’t make me want to slow down either. Did I do some digging on Alexander? Of course I did. Even though I recognize how badly I fucked up, I still know that she and I belong together. Alexander is nothing but filler.

The law office where Lauren works is easy enough to find in the Financial District of Los Angeles. Stepping off the elevator and entering on the fifth floor, I tell the secretary who I’m looking for. On an annoying giggle, she points toward the Real Estate Transaction team where Lauren is the head legal secretary. I see her, focused in concentration as she stares at two monitors. Loads of files litter her desk. I stand there, waiting for her to lift her face. And then … she does.

I swallow hard as her mouth parts in surprise. No words come out.

“Coffee?” I sound like myself, but my insides ache.

As I slide my hands to the back pockets of my jeans, nerves unseen tingle through my fingers. I want a cigarette, but I’ve cut back to only one in the morning and one at night.

My eyes scan her face and find emotion. Anger, hurt, and relief are all there for me to see.

She purposefully stands before stepping around her desk. I blink, and she’s against my chest. I can’t help but lift her into my arms, smelling the perfume inside her neck. It’s flowery and soft and mixed with her own scent.

I love her.

I thought I was prepared to see her, but the feelings unleashed within me are larger than I thought. Wild almost. I want to mark her in the best of ways. Prove to her that I am who I am and that she has to give me another shot.

When I slowly put her down, she nods. “Yeah. Coffee. Okay.”

Grabbing her purse from a desk drawer, she straightens out her black skirt that’s slim against her hips, hitting right below the knee. A lacy-looking blouse is tucked inside the skirt. As always, she’s so classy. I look down at my own clothes—a pair of worn jeans and a white henley shirt—and stand straighter. Maybe I should have dressed better.