Chapter 2 - THE KISS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
“Answer the question, Nathan.”
Adrian Moretti's voice was quiet.
That somehow made it worse.
Nathan stood frozen beside the refrigerated shelves, still holding the hundred-dollar bills he'd been waving in my face.
His fiancée, Vanessa Whitmore, had stopped smiling.
Around us, shoppers pretended to examine cartons of yogurt while watching every movement.
I could feel their eyes.
And I could still feel Adrian's lips against mine.
“Mr. Moretti,” Nathan finally managed. “This is a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?”
Adrian glanced at the money.
“Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were humiliating a pregnant woman who asked you to leave her alone.”
Nathan swallowed.
“We used to be engaged.”
“I didn't ask who you used to be.”
The words landed like a slap.
Vanessa stepped forward, recovering enough confidence to speak.
“Actually, Claire started this. She's always been very dramatic.”
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I'd heard that accusation so many times during my engagement that it had practically become a second name.
Dramatic Claire.
Sensitive Claire.
Claire who couldn't take a joke.
Adrian turned toward her.
“Did she ask you to speak to her?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Well, no, but—”
“Then you had every opportunity to leave her in peace.”
One of Adrian's security men moved toward the woman recording us.
Adrian raised one finger.
“Leave her alone. She has every right to record what happened.”
Something unexpected tightened in my chest.
He wasn't trying to erase the scene.
He wanted everyone to know exactly what Nathan had done.
Nathan stuffed the money into his wallet.
“Look, I apologize. Can we move on?”
I finally found my voice.
“You're apologizing because Adrian is standing here.”
Nathan looked at me sharply.
“Claire—”
“You weren't sorry when I asked you to stop.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you weren't sorry when you told me I would never survive without you.”
For one brief second, his expression changed.
I saw the man who used to bring me coffee before work.
The man who once sat beside me in a hospital waiting room when my mother was sick.
Then he looked toward Adrian and the softness disappeared.
“Fine. I'm sorry.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Do you accept that?”
I considered the question.
“No.”
Nathan's face reddened.
“Unbelievable.”
“Actually,” I said, “it's the first time in months I've believed myself.”
Adrian's mouth moved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
Then Vanessa noticed my wrist.
“Oh, that's interesting.”
Her eyes narrowed at the thin silver bracelet peeking out beneath my sweater sleeve.
“Still wearing that cheap little thing?”
I instinctively covered it.
The bracelet had belonged to my mother.
It was the only piece of jewelry I'd kept after selling almost everything else.
Vanessa tilted her head.
“I thought you would have pawned it by now.”
Adrian's attention shifted.
“What bracelet?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
But Vanessa had already reached toward my arm.
“It's just some old—”
“Don't touch her.”
Adrian's voice changed.
Vanessa stopped immediately.
He looked down at my wrist.
The bracelet had three tiny silver stars and a small blue stone shaped like a teardrop.
It wasn't particularly valuable.
At least, that's what I'd always believed.
Adrian stared at it.
For the first time since entering the store, he seemed genuinely shaken.
“Claire,” he said slowly, “where did you get that?”
“My mother.”
He didn't answer.
“Why?”
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat.
One of the security men glanced at him.
“Boss?”
Adrian ignored him.
He removed a folded photograph.
The edges were worn, and a crease ran across the middle.
He opened it carefully.
I saw a younger Adrian standing beside an elegant dark-haired woman.
She was smiling.
On her wrist was a bracelet exactly like mine.
My breath caught.
“Who's that?”
Adrian looked from the photograph to my face.
“Her name was Elena.”
I stared at him.
“My mother's name was Elena.”
His expression hardened with something that looked almost like grief.
“Elena Hayes?”
I couldn't speak.
He knew her last name.
He knew the bracelet.
And suddenly, the kiss in the grocery store felt like the smallest strange thing that had happened that afternoon.
Nathan took a step backward.
Adrian noticed.
“Something wrong, Nathan?”
“No.”
But his answer came too quickly.
Vanessa was staring at the photograph.
She looked frightened now.
Not embarrassed.
Frightened.
I turned toward Adrian.
“How did you know my mother?”
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“Somewhere we can talk privately.”
I glanced at my groceries.
The milk.
A small loaf of bread.
A jar of peanut butter.
The prenatal vitamins I still couldn't afford.
“I don't need another man making decisions for me.”
Adrian studied my face.
Then he stepped back.
“You're right.”
His immediate agreement surprised me.
He gestured toward the front of the store.
“There's a coffee shop across the street. Public place. You choose whether we talk.”
I hesitated.
“And the kiss?”
His expression softened.
“I should have asked.”
“Yes. You should have.”
“I'm sorry.”
It wasn't the apology I had expected.
Somehow, that made it harder to remain angry.
Nathan suddenly spoke.
“Claire, don't go with him.”
Everyone looked at him.
He attempted a nervous smile.
“I mean, you don't know anything about this man.”
Adrian slowly turned.
“Apparently, you do.”
Nathan said nothing.
I looked at the photograph again.
The woman beside Adrian had my mother's smile.
And suddenly, I remembered something I'd spent years trying not to think about.
When I was eleven, two men had visited our apartment after my mother died.
My father told me they were insurance investigators.
One of them had worn a black suit.
The other carried a photograph.
I remembered hiding behind the kitchen doorway.
And I remembered my father saying something that hadn't made sense at the time.
She's only a child. Let her stay that way.
My heart began pounding.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“How long have you had that photograph?”
His eyes met mine.
“Sixteen years.”
That was exactly how long my mother had been dead.
I stepped closer.
“What happened to her?”
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward Nathan.
And there was something in his expression I couldn't understand.
“Claire,” he finally said, “who told you your mother died in a car accident?”
The grocery store suddenly felt too warm.
“My father.”
“Did you ever see the accident report?”
“No.”
“Did you attend her funeral?”
I swallowed.
“Yes. There was a closed coffin.”
Adrian looked down at the photograph.
May you like
Then he said six words that changed everything.
“Your mother wasn't in that car.”
