le that life did go on. But her ring? That was her last physical tie to the man who’d helped her make those boys and raise them into the men she was so damn proud of.
“I do want to wear it,” she said, her throat raw.
“Then wear it,” he said, as if what she wanted was the only thing to factor into the equation.
Not for the first time, she wondered what it was that was wrong with the man. He probably killed kittens in his spare time. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He stepped closer and cupped her face in his warm palms, looking her straight in the eye. “Because, bellissima, second chances don’t come around every day, and when they do, you must seize them.”
The declaration did something to her, lifted some burden weighing her down that she’d grown so used to that she barely noticed it anymore. It was as much of a relief as it was petrifying. Then he kissed her, a soft brush of his lips, and stepped away. How he’d known she’d need time to process, she had no idea.
Keeping her gaze locked on the floor numbers as they lit up one after the other, she took a deep breath. “You’re too nice for me.”
“Bah.” He waved his hands in the air as the elevator doors opened. “Life is too short to keep what you’re feeling to yourself.”
Before she got a chance to respond, the elevator doors opened, revealing a colorful swath of dresses and plain black tuxedoes as Harbor City’s old money gathered to raise money yet again without actually doing anything to help. Oh, the organizers did the work—and a lot of it—she knew from personal experience, but if she polled the people in attendance, she doubted 90 percent would know the name of the actual charity they were helping. This was her life, the one she’d been raised to conform to, but it was starting to chafe. She wanted more.
Alberto tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked forward, gaining the quiet buzz of attention from the people they passed. They were a sight, she knew. The hard-as-nails society matron and the outgoing Italian hotel magnate. She never would have guessed it would have happened, either, but it felt right. That thought propelled her forward right up until they approached her family, gathered in a knot near the dance floor. Hudson and his girlfriend, Felicia, stood with Sawyer and his wife, Clover, all of whom turned to look with frank, curious stares. At once, her nerves and lingering feeling of betrayal slammed back into place.
Hudson, being the charmer that he was, stepped in to fill the silence. “Alberto, it’s so good to see you again.” He clapped a friendly hand on Alberto’s shoulder. “This is my girlfriend, Felicia.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Felicia said with a shy smile.
“And you as well. I’ve seen some of the pieces from Hudson’s Wife series and now I see that while he may have gotten close, he did not capture the true extent of your beauty.” Alberto took Felicia’s hand and, being the outrageous flirt he was, gave it a quick kiss on her knuckles, then turned back to Hudson. “Tell me about this project you’re working on with Everly’s grandmother’s friends. I hear you’ll be opening a show at Black Hearts in six months?”
And they were off, lost in their mutually shared world of art, the one Hudson had hidden from her for decades—or at least tried to. A mother always knows. She’d just accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter when her firstborn moved in for the kill.
“He seems nice,” Sawyer said, his voice as close to a whisper as possible in the ballroom filled with chatter.
She nodded, wondering where he was taking this. “He is.”
“Just be sure he knows that if he doesn’t treat you well, I’m not above punching an old man.”
Helene blinked away her surprise. Of all the things, that was one of the last she’d expected. “Sawyer Carlyle, I raised you better than that.”
He looked her straight in the eyes. “You raised me to stand up for those I love.”
Now that was the very last. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her boys with all her heart or that they didn’t love her, but they were a Harbor City family of a certain standing, and bold declarations of love and loyalty weren’t their way. At least they hadn’t been until Felicia and Clover had come into her sons’ lives. It was amazing how much love could change a person. Of course, she wasn’t about to give in to the happy tears gathering. She most definitely didn’t get weepy in public. Ever. So she fell back on her iron-lady attitude that her children seemed to see right through lately.
“I’m sure temporarily losing Clover because of your own idiotic habits helped you understand that as well,” she said, tempering the tart just enough for her non–detail noticing son to realize she was just teasing.
“Without a doubt.” Sawyer nodded, looking over at his obviously pregnant wife with a look of total and complete love.
“I’m so happy for you two.”
He held up his champagne flute and tapped it against hers. “To happiness—all of ours.”
Now that she could drink to. Her own happiness wasn’t something she’d really considered all that much, even before Michael died. Her life had been a rush instead of an experience. As she sipped the tart, fizzy champagne, she looked around at the people surrounding her and realized that this was exactly what made her happy and she wanted more of it. Alberto was right. Life was too short to keep what she was feeling to herself. She tapped the man in question on the shoulder.
Alberto turned around with an expectant look. “Yes, bellissima?”
She set down her champagne on a table. “Let’s dance.”
A wide smile split his handsome face. “Now that is the perfect idea.”
It was, and she was going to enjoy every step of it.
Chapter Twenty-Four