Rafael:
The address burned in my mind as I parked across from the coffee shop. 1247 Melrose Avenue. Johnson's information had been accurate—there she was, visible through the large front window, sitting at a corner table with a brown-haired girl.
My hands gripped the steering wheel as I watched Fiona lean back in her chair, actually laughing at something the other woman said. The sound didn't reach me through the glass, but I could see it in the way her shoulders shook, the way her face lit up.
Have I ever seen her laugh like that?
I stepped out of the Rolls-Royce, my jaw clenched with determination. She had run from me twice now. This time, I would not let her slip away. This time, I would make her understand that we belonged together, that fighting this connection between us was poin
