One Night with Cinderella - Niobia Bryant Page 0,57

who had felt completely out of her element, had fallen off her skis and he’d purposely tumbled down beside her and pulled out his phone to capture their laughter in a selfie.

They’d played in the snow all day and created their own heat together all night.

“Damn,” he swore, setting his glass on the metal end table beside the sofa before he rose and placed the picture facedown.

Eleven

Two months later

“Monica?”

At the sound of her name being called, she turned in the lobby of her apartment building with her heart still pounding from discovering a few paparazzi following her while she was out shopping. News and rabid speculation on her and Gabe’s breakup had forced them back into the public eye.

She gasped to see Phoebe rising from one of the ornate seats in the waiting area, looking pretty in coral wide-leg pants and a long-sleeved white tee. The sight of her and the obvious compassion in her eyes struck a chord in Monica as she let her shoulders slump and shook her head as emotions overwhelmed her. Phoebe gave her a smile and opened her arms wide, just as she’d promised that day in the attorney’s office.

“Just know there is no deadline on when you reach out to me. Be it a day or a year or a dozen—if I’m still alive God willing—I will accept you with open arms.”

In her, at that moment, Monica saw something she felt she’d never had before. Family. As she quickly crossed the divide and welcomed her aunt’s embrace, she felt foolish for never fully allowing the woman into her life. “You came,” she whispered, comforted by the warm pats on her back.

“You needed me,” Phoebe said with a low chuckle. “Right?”

Monica nodded her head where it rested against her shoulder. “Right,” she admitted.

“So here I am,” Phoebe simply said.

Monica took a deep steadying breath before taking a small step back and looking at her aunt. “I love him,” she admitted as tears welled.

Phoebe put a hand to her back. “Let’s go up, have something to drink, and talk,” she said.

“I don’t have any juice or tea,” Monica said as they reached the double doors of the elevators.

“Tea?” her aunt scoffed. “More like a mar-ti-ni.”

That made Monica laugh. Maybe her first time in weeks.

As they settled in her living room and sipped on the dirty martinis Phoebe made for them, Monica felt comforted by the presence of this woman she really didn’t know. “To have you here when I needed someone most makes me realize I wanted you here all along,” she admitted.

Phoebe crossed her ankles and reached over to squeeze Monica’s hand with hers. “When I saw the press about the breakup and saw the paparazzi hounding you again, I was determined to fly back and check on you,” she said. “You looked so sad. I could see that.”

“It’s been two months, actually, so everyone’s a little late,” she said, thinking of the last time she’d seen Gabe. “Or someone is so overjoyed it’s done, they gave the paparazzi a clue.”

With each day her hope that he would come and fight for her faded. Still, she hungered for him. He was in her thoughts so often. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. Nothing at all. Her love for her ex seemed juvenile in comparison.

And it was then she realized that she loved Gabe.

His strength. His passion. His intelligence. His compassion. Even his drive and ambition.

Without her realizing it, Gabriel Cress had claimed a piece of her heart, and every day she had to deal with having that love without having him.

“I was a fool to think I could avoid loving him,” Monica said, kicking off the heels she wore with her wrap dress and tucking her feet beneath her bottom as she looked out the window. “No, I was a fool to think I didn’t already love him before that first wild night on the roof.”

“The roof?” Phoebe said before fanning herself.

Monica felt her face flush with heat at the memory.

“Tell me the story of Monica and Gabe,” Phoebe said.

In an instant she seemed to remember so many moments they’d shared. Good times. Great times.

“I will tell you our story, even though it doesn’t end well, because the beginning and the middle were amazing,” Monica admitted softly, feeling her pulse race.

At times she smiled. Other times her eyes glazed over as she remembered their heat. There were many moments she chuckled at something funny they’d shared together. And then, as she spoke of