Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Maisey Yates (sad books to read .txt) 📖

her grip on the journal. “I saw your statement. I don’t want to take legal action. I just want this story to go away.”

“I understand.”

He rose from the bench and picked up the bag. “If I have any more information, can I call you? Will you answer?”

Nina swallowed past the pit in her throat and nodded. He stared at her awhile, looking as if he had more to say but finally deciding against it. “Okay, Nina. Take care.”

She nodded again and turned to stare at a framed painting of a rowboat. She could not bear to watch him leave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

After Julian made a discreet exit, Valerie joined her upstairs. “How did it go?”

Nina struggled to come up with an answer that simple question. “He didn’t grovel.”

Valerie plopped down on the bench next to her. “Maybe your standards are too high. Nobody said he had to bend the knee.”

“An apology would have been nice.”

“He didn’t apologize? For anything?”

“He said he was sorry.”

“Okay. That sounds like an apology.”

“But it wasn’t!” Nina blinked, her tears near. “He apologized for the wrong thing.”

Valerie looked genuinely confused. “You’re not making sense.”

“He kept going on about what they’d done to me. The driver who stole my diary…the website that published it. It was all their fault. He was sorry that they hurt me.”

The light in Valerie’s eyes dimmed as her hopes for a happy ending died. “He doesn’t get it.”

“No! He doesn’t!” Nina cried, but she was happy that her cousin did.

* * *

The next day, Nina flew home. She sat cramped in a middle seat, staring at the minuscule television screen. Meg Ryan was falling in love (again) with Tom Hanks. The actress opened wide blue eyes, filled with hope, and Nina wanted to punch the screen. The journal on her lap wasn’t the one Julian had returned. As a parting gift, Valerie had unearthed her father’s notebooks and offered them to her in a bundle wrapped in ribbon. Each notebook was inscribed with his name in ink: Raymond Pierre. Nina treasured them. She was not a fool for filling up diaries; she was carrying on a family tradition.

* * *

It was a relief to return to her quiet apartment. And it did not take long for her to resume her quiet life with its routines: mornings at the gym, writing sprints, cooking, some television and on occasion drinks with Laetitia. It was the best she could stitch together. She’d been banned from the creative carnival of which Julian was the center. So now she lived the low-key life of an exile. Her sleepless nights were more comfortable in her own bed, but her sense of loss did not lessen with time. Most mornings, she woke up confused to find that Julian wasn’t within arm’s reach. Then she’d go on with her day, her heart heavy, as if filled with slush. At night, she missed his overwhelming presence, the way he filled whatever bedroom they shared with laughter. She missed the sound of his voice.

And days stretched into weeks.

The paperback edition of her memoir steadily climbed the bestseller lists. Requests for interviews and appearances poured in. Only now she was known as that Nina Taylor—a virtually unknown author whose career had skyrocketed after she slept with an action star and wrote about it. To the dismay of her publisher, she turned down every interview request, but that only seemed to add to her mystique.

She had no idea how Julian was doing, and that was a sort of torture. The one time she’d googled him, she’d stumbled upon this gem: If you thought JLK was a “Wham! Bam!” type of lover, think again! Diary excerpts paint a portrait of a sensitive and intuitive man. Men and women alike are clamoring for a piece of that action. The actor could not be reached for comment.

* * *

On a chilly Saturday morning in January, Nina and Laetitia, bundled in parkas, trekked back home from spin class. They spotted a woman on their stoop, frantically pressing the buzzer.

“Looks like there’s going to be some drama!” Laetitia said.

“Bet you anything that it’s Carl in 3F,” Nina said. “He’s so messy.”

“I know! Right?”

Laetitia sprinted forward. She was a decade older than Nina. Her sloppy breakup with Ted (an episode only referred to as TEDx) had done her good. Aggressive self-care was working wonders. Her inky-black hair was glossy and her olive complexion glowed. She was once again her upbeat self—and as nosy as ever. She hopped up the steps, pausing on the landing to peek over the woman’s shoulder. Nina caught her friend’s startled expression and stopped to study the petite blonde more closely. She suddenly looked uncannily familiar.

“Don’t waste your time,” Laetitia said. “No one is in 3D.”

The woman whirled to face Laetitia. “Why? Did she move out?”

“Depends. Who’s asking?”

“Katia Wells,” she replied. “I’m looking for Nina Taylor. Do you know where she is?”

“I’m right here.”

She narrowed her eyes at Nina. “Ah! There you are. That’s a relief!”

Nina’s body stiffened under the down-filled parka, and it had nothing to do with the biting chill in the air. “Is Julian with you?”

“No. Just me,” she said. “Is this a bad time? I hoped we could grab coffee.”

* * *

Moments later, Nina sat across from Katia at a bar-height table at a Starbucks, stirring sugar into an almond-milk macchiato. Katia lifted the lid of her cup and blew on the foam, in no apparent hurry to explain herself. Why had she shown up at her door? What was so urgent? Had Julian sent her?

“I owe you an apology,” Katia said.

That was not what Nina expected to hear. As far as she knew, she had no beef with Katia Wells. “What for?”

“I misjudged you,” she said. “I thought you’d leaked your diary. I was sure of it.”

Not. This. Again. “Why would I do that?”

“Why do people do anything?” Katia fit the lid over the rim of her cup with a snap. “For money or attention or both.”

This was absurd. Who, in their