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And that was the second thing. The powerful super-shero who still somehow needed saving with love . Seriously? She couldn’t decide if that was some reverse misogynistic BS or his bad interpretation of superhero flicks.

The problem had gone deeper than that. Every time she’d seen him over the past three years since the breakup, she’d known he was hurt.

Santino had never made a pretense of hiding his feelings, unlike her.

In fact, she’d always admired his ability to be his true self and not give a fuck what the response would be.

But when Dani had tried to tell her he’d been depressed, she’d stopped her because it had made her feel guilty.

And for him to tell her it had hurt him that badly had been too much.

She didn’t want to hear that her leaving had wounded him when none of it would have happened but for the decisions he made.

She absolutely couldn’t let him blackmail her emotionally into staying in the marriage if there was just going to be more of the same. It was unfair. Almost cruel.

The impulse rose to take another look at those drawings.

She glanced at the bathroom doors again, then went to the drawer where he kept the sketchpad.

Vanessa sat on the area rug next to the bed and flipped through the book slowly, examining each picture.

Here she was in her daytime attire, walking down the street, in front of a judge in court, stopping at the rose bushes near the front door and smiling as she inhaled their beauty.

Something about those scenes tugged at her subconscious, but she couldn’t put her finger on just what that was.

Aside from what he’s said about what they meant to him, she really did love the drawings, really believed in his talent.

She wasn’t kidding when she said he should publish it as a graphic novel.

At least if he wanted to quit the day job and do this full time, thanks to Nonno, he’d never have to worry about becoming a starving artist.

Vanessa moved on to the drawings of the male figure. Santino wasn’t vain enough to make the hero’s face look like his, but otherwise it was him. Strong, brave, leaping mid-air into danger with his axe gripped in his hands.

Would he win? She blinked, as the answer “yes” rose unbidden from some place buried deep within her.

Oh, no. No, he wouldn’t win back her heart. But she had to admit, as scary as it was to hear him say he still loved her, it had touched the softest parts of her. It would be dangerous to imagine a new future with him, but did it feel good to believe it right now, in this moment?

Yes. It did. Really good.

With a soft fingertip, she touched him one last time, closed the book, and was ready to place it back in the drawer when she saw another book inside.

Peering closer, she read the title aloud.

It was a manual, a study guide for the lieutenant’s exam in the fire department.

There was a receipt stuck halfway in, no doubt Santino’s version of a bookmark.

Well, that was a surprise, Santino thinking of the fire department as a true career and not just something to do solely for the sake of tradition, which he strongly believed in.

Still smiling, she put the books back as she found them and got up to find her phone to check for emails.

It was a startling coincidence that it started to ring while in her hand.

Maybe it was Bobby checking in, but she was jarred when she saw the name on the screen: Scott Malone.

What the hell? She’d believed she’d seen and heard the last of him when he’d driven away that night with his green eyes full of hurt and anger. Was he calling to curse her out?

She didn’t know what to do, answer it or let it go to voicemail.

Santino’s singing and rapping (badly) in the shower drifted through the doors.

Guiltily, she glanced in that direction.

Guilty for what, she didn’t know. But when a notification went off that there was a new voicemail in the inbox, she pressed the button to listen, her heart picking up tempo while she pressed the phone to her ear.

First, there was a throat clearing. “Hey, Vanessa, it’s Scott.

I hope things are good with you. I was listening to my playlist this morning on my way to work.

That mix came on with all the artists we were supposed to see together up in Montreal.

It got me thinking…maybe it was a little hasty to cancel the trip.

Maybe I should’ve let things settle before I made up my mind about us.

I guess you could say I have a quick temper, and I get heated, but if there’s a chance for there to still be an us, I’d like to talk about it.

I miss hanging out with you.” He paused while her heart ticked faster.

“So…if you still want to go, or even if you don’t want to go but you want to talk it over, hit me back.

I’d like to see you again either way. Alright. Think about it and let me know. Later.”

That was the end of his message, and before remorse could rise up and clog her throat, Santino emerged in a haze of steam, spitting Big Sean and Gunna lyrics full blast like he was on stage with them. Quickly, she deleted Scott’s message, deleted the history of him calling at all.

“Hey. You look funny. What’s the matter?” Santino had stopped rapping to stare at her through the doorway to the vanity.

“Uh, nothing.” Her shoulders slumped as the weight of her own new little omission jumped on her shoulders and attempted to settle in. Isn’t this exactly why Scott had been angry, because she’d kept information like this to herself? “Actually, no, it was something. Scott just tried calling me.”

Santino’s eyebrows drew together, and his nose flared, but he nodded. “I figured at some point he might. You’re not that easy to walk away from.” A frisson of delight danced down her body at that statement. “Did you talk to him?”

“No, I let it go to voicemail.”

“Good. Block him.” Santino went back inside the small space, turned back to the mirror, and rubbed cooling lotion on his freshly shaven cheeks. “His time is up.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Vanessa walked to the doorway and leaned against the frame. She tilted her head to the side and studied him as he went through his ablutions.

“He told me you threatened him. You know, he could have found out what you did for a living and reported you to your captain for that. You could have lost your job and shamed Patrick yet again.”

By “shaming Patrick,” she was referring to Tommy, who’d been let go from the department for drinking on the job and responding to an emergency while intoxicated.

But Santino’s face shuttered for a moment, some darker shadow crossing his typically open features.

She couldn’t fathom what he was thinking as he stared at his reflection.

She continued, “That was a little risky, don’t you think?”

Santino roused himself from whatever dark reverie had been playing in his head.

“I’ve already shamed my father,” he responded cryptically.

Before she could ask him what that meant, he scoffed, “And fuck a complaint. Running and snitching like a little bitch isn’t how the Saints handle things.

That’s the best I could say about him. And even if he is a little bitch, I don’t really give a fuck what the consequences are if I think somebody might hurt you. ”

“Why do you keep saying that? I mean, yeah, gang, I get it. But he’s obviously outgrown all that. He never showed any hint of being violent, at least not to me,” she countered.

“Not to you. But maybe someone else. It was better he got cut off now before you had to find out.” For once, she didn’t have a comeback and went silent. In the reflection of the mirror, his eyes slid to hers. “Why did you tell me he called? You trying to make me jealous?”

“I told you because back when your little ex-girlfriend first started contacting you, you didn’t tell me.

I had to find out when I happened to see her name in the call log, and I didn’t like that.

I felt you should’ve told me the first time, so I can’t turn around and do the same thing now.

I may be a jealous bitch, according to you, but I’m not trying to be a hypocrite too. ”

Shrugging, her face on fire, she walked deeper into the vanity to hang up her clothes on the wall opposite the mirror from where he stood looking at her with a small smile.

Wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips and that hair spiky and wet, he was sinfully delicious but smelled like heaven.

“Correction, tesoro , I have never and will never call you a bitch. Jealous, yeah, but not that.”

She rolled her eyes at him, covering up the warmth flaring in her belly as Santino continued smiling at her softly.

“Relationship Rehab. It’s working. I can see it,” he said sagely.

“We are not in a relationship.”

“Your cream in my mouth says otherwise.” Calmly, he reached for his deodorant.

“That was sex. Very hot sex that is not happening again. But sex is not a relationship. You’re really not angry?” she asked after a moment of perusing him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, trust, if I see that motherfucker anywhere near you when we get back to New York, I’m gonna break his legs for him,” he assured her matter-of-factly, pulling out his comb and running it through his strands until they lay neatly on one side.

A little mousse and he was done. “But mad at you? Nah. I can’t be mad at my wifey for being so hot, other men stay thirsty.

Just so long as you remember who your husband is. ”

Vanessa snorted. “Wifey. Whatever.” But before she could sashay past him, he tossed the comb and grabbed her by the waist, hauling her in and nuzzling that spot under her ear with a playful growl.

When he pressed his towel-clad hips into her, she almost weakened, but she stayed strong. “Off! Bad Santino.”

He was laughing when she pushed him off rudely, rushed into the bathroom, and shut the doors.