Coming Back To You (2 page)

For a long moment, Mark said nothing. Was
Razor someone he wanted to discuss his relationship—or lack
thereof—with? In a way, it felt good to think he had someone he
could talk to about her, but in another, he just wanted to keep her
to himself.

He rested his head back on the
plastic-covered cushion and gazed up at the industrial, art deco
ceiling. “It’s not a word. It’s a name. Karma’s a name.”

“Aaaahhh, a name. Now we’re gettin’
somewhere.” Razor’s tattoo gun whirred as he circled it around and
around on Mark’s chest before pulling it back and wiping his towel
over the freshly inked area.

“Yes, Karma’s very special.” Mark drew his
gaze down to his tattoo. The skin was red and swollen, but he could
already tell the shading was going to be what kids these days
called “sick.”

“She your wife?”

Mark flinched. “No.”

“Girlfriend?”

Mark bowed his head. “No.”

Razor sat up, a concerned frown on his face.
“She’s not…you know…gone?” He appeared uncomfortable, as if he
feared he’d stirred bad memories.

It took Mark a moment to realize what Razor
was getting at. “You mean dead?”

Razor’s expression dissolved into one of
apology. “I’m sorry if—”

“No, she’s not dead.” Mark smiled sadly,
because while Karma wasn’t dead, there were times he felt like she
was. Times when he was sad enough to consider drowning himself in
scotch. Times when he wanted to ignore the voices in his head,
which told him he wasn’t what she needed and reminded him of the
promise he’d made to let the universe decide when—or even if—to
bring her back into his life. Times when he just wanted to go to
her.

“Then I don’t get it,” Razor said in his
brusque accent. “If she’s not dead and so special, and she’s not
your gal, what’s the story?”

“I let her go.” Mark gave a derisive chuff
and shook his head at how crazy the words sounded. He’d let the one
woman he loved go. Why? Because that’s what he’d said he would do.
And why had he said that? Because he had sworn years ago never to
lose his heart again. He would never again risk putting himself
through what Carol had done to him when she’d left him at the
altar. Mark had never recovered from that humiliation and
heartbreak.

Razor returned to his work. “You love this
little lady, don’t you?”

He’d already opened up. No stopping now.
“Yes.”

“Then why’d you let her go?”

“Because I can’t be what she needs me to
be.”

“And what does she need you to be, mate?
Other than yourself.”

“Someone who isn’t afraid to commit.”

“Oooohhh, I see. You’re one of those fellas.
Afraid of gettin’ involved past a certain point. Is that the way of
it?”

“I used to be like that. Now I’m not so sure.
I’ve never felt like this before.” Mark had never loved Carol the
way he loved Karma. To the point that he ached for her. Karma’s
absence actually caused physical pain. Much like Razor’s tattoo gun
whirring over his skin, only deeper and not so sharp.

“You sound like you’re not sure you made the
right decision by leaving her.”

Mark blew out a harsh breath. “You could say
that, but I made my decision and now have to live with the
consequences and wait.”

“Wait for what?” Razor skimmed his towel over
the tattoo to wipe away the blood and ink.

“For a sign that we’re meant to be together.”
That didn’t sound as ridiculous in his head as it did out loud.

Razor made a throaty noise. “Ah, yes. A sign.
I believe in signs.”

“You do?” Maybe he didn’t sound so ridiculous
after all, if a tough guy like Razor agreed with him.

“Absolutely. Life will give you what you need
when you need it. If you just sit back, let life happen, and stay
open to the signs, all will fall into place.”

Razor was beginning to sound like a mystic,
but his words resonated with something deep inside Mark, fortifying
his resolve to not give up hope that he and Karma would be together
someday. But he’d always been such a control freak. Sitting back
and letting fate choose his future clawed his nerves.

“It’s hard for me to let go. To let something
else control my destiny.”

Razor shook his head but kept his eyes on his
work. “You letting life unfold naturally isn’t the same as life
controlling your destiny, mate. Your destiny is already set. Your
course is charted. You just need to look for the signs along the
way that keep you on course.” He paused and made a dismissive noise
as he sat up. “Hell, even that’s not true. Because it’s when you’re
looking for signs that you miss ’em. When you’re not looking for
signs, you see ’em without even realizing it.” He bent over Mark’s
chest again, and the tattoo gun buzzed back to life, followed
immediately by the sting of the needle. “You just need to let go
and not force it. If your Karma is meant to come back around,
she’ll find her way to you and you to her without you even having
to lift a finger. Believe in that, mate. Believe in that and have
faith that if it’s meant to be, it
will
be.”

Renewed energy flowed through Mark’s veins. Razor was
right. Mark just needed to have faith in the agreement he’d made
with the universe on his way back to Chicago last September. Unable
to reconcile his heart’s desire to go back to Karma and his head’s
demand to let her go, he’d relinquished control so that fate could
decide his future. In the months since, his resolve had waned. But
now, with Razor’s sage advice rolling through his mind, he found
new hope.

Hours later, lying awake in bed, staring up at the
dark ceiling with a bandage over his tattoo, Mark was still
thinking about Razor’s words.

Let go. Have faith. Don’t force it.

His advice sounded so simple. Mark knew
better than to think it would be that easy, but he had to at least
try.

Returning to the way things had been before
he met Karma would be easier than letting go altogether. Except he
couldn’t go back. He wasn’t the same man he’d been before Karma.
She’d changed him. She’d gotten inside. He could never be that man
again.

But for her sake, he wanted to be. Karma
didn’t need a commitment-phobic suitor who could love her but never
marry her…who could never give himself completely.

But if that were true, why had he enhanced
his tattoo? He’d made it darker, more like a brand. If he really
didn’t think he had a place in her life, he could have opted to
have it removed. Instead, he’d imprinted her more heavily on his
body. Why? Because despite thinking she deserved better than he
could give, Mark was not just in love with her. He was
unbelievably, universally lost in his love for her. She
did
own him. Not just his heart, but his body and soul, too.

Let go. Have faith. Don’t force it.

Razor wanted him to be patient. But patient
for what? What could patience give him that could fix his dilemma?
He wanted her back, but he feared being with her. How would that
work?

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. He
didn’t know how it would work. All he knew was that he couldn’t
stop thinking about her.

Maybe Razor was right. Maybe he just needed
to let go. Maybe if he showed a little patience and refocused his
faith in the powers that controlled fate, the dilemma would resolve
itself.

But damn it, he wanted her back. Even if he
wasn’t right for her.

Chapter 2

Christmas Day

Karma buried her face in her hands, tears pouring
from her eyes even as Macaulay Culkin slapped aftershave on his
cheeks and screamed.

How did anyone cry while watching
Home
Alone
?

She should be laughing. She loved this movie.
It was the quintessential holiday tradition. Karma watched it every
year at least three times between Thanksgiving and Christmas. But
this year she didn’t have much to smile about, and young Culkin may
as well have been Scrooge for all the good he did.

This was a time of year meant for snuggling
under blankets and making love in front of fireplaces. A time to
cuddle on the couch with that special someone and stare at the
lighted Christmas tree. A time for playful snowball fights that led
to heated sex after stripping out of cold, wet clothes.

Funny how she’d never thought about those
things in the past. Until this year, holiday season was for
sweaters, football, and snow. But now, the romantic side of winter
was all she could think about.

And it was because of
him
. Mark
Strong. The sexiest, most incredible man she had ever met.

She saw his face in her mind. Heard his
voice. Felt his touch. Their relationship had been over for three
months, but he still gripped her mind. Still held her heart.

Wasn’t it time she moved on? That was what
her friends and her dad wanted. Especially her dad. He was fed up
with watching Karma suffer, as he had made perfectly clear on
Thanksgiving.

“You need to get over that
boy
,
Karma,” he had said as she snuggled with her cat, Spookie, on her
parents’ couch.

Before she could protest, he’d held up his
palm and cut her off. “I told you it would end this way. That he
would only hurt you. But you didn’t listen to me.” He scowled and
shook his head. “And now look at you. I hardly recognize you.
You’ve been a ghost for weeks.”

The muscles along Karma’s jaw and the back of
her neck tensed, as did her shoulders. She was as much angry as she
was sad. Angry at herself, her dad, even Mark. “You can’t blame
Mark for this, Dad. He did nothing wrong.”
Except leave me
behind when he returned to Chicago.

But Mark had made it clear before she got
involved with him last spring that he wasn’t looking for anything
long term and that he would leave when his job at Solar ended. At
the time, that hadn’t mattered. She’d just wanted to spend time
with him, even if he would leave and their relationship had to
remain a secret.

Except her dad had found out about him,
anyway. And once he learned Mark was the consultant working at her
company, he accused Mark of taking advantage of his position so he
could use her. For the rest of the summer, her dad hadn’t wasted
any opportunity to criticize Mark.

Seeing her so miserable had to be bittersweet
vindication for her dad.

The kicker was, she felt bad for hurting him.
Before Mark, her dad had been her entire world. The yardstick she
measured all men by. Now, Mark was her yardstick. In a way, he had
replaced her dad, and that riddled her with guilt, which fueled
both her anger and her sadness even more. Because, really, wasn’t
she the only one here who had any right to be angry and sad? The
only one who’d truly lost something—some
one
—special?

In the end, her dad got what he wanted, which
was for her to see a therapist who could help her return to the
land of the emotionally balanced. Karma simply couldn’t stomach the
way he’d looked at her with such pity…as if she were fragile. As if
she were a
victim
. She didn’t want to be a victim, least of
all Mark’s.

So, the Monday after Thanksgiving, Karma had
contacted a therapist named Jan Krakowski and set up an
appointment.

Which brought her to the reason for her cry
fest this evening.

She wiped tears off her cheeks then rested
her fingers back on the keyboard of her laptop. Her new blog waited
for her to create a name and fill its pages with every rambling
thought about Mark that tiptoed—or whirled like the Tasmanian
Devil—through her mind.

But there was something about rehashing her
relationship with Mark in written form that brought everything back
to the surface so that it stung harder. Talking about Mark in
sessions every week was bad enough, but to write about him was like
pulling out a magnifying glass. Like observing snowflakes under
magnification, where you could see the intricate facets and shards
of each frozen crystal and not just a tiny white puff. Writing made
the memories more vivid. Details already forgotten would resurface
once she began pouring her soul through her fingertips.

Even before writing a single word, the
memories tore at her heart, which was why, despite Macaulay
Culkin’s best comical efforts, tears streaked her face.

After Mark left, a gauzy film had gently
shrouded the four months she’d spent with him, taking away some of
the vividness of her memories. But with the creation of her blog,
the film dissipated like fog in the sun and she recalled the
once-blurry details with painful acuity. And with each remembered
nuance, another needle pinpricked her heart.

Why was she torturing herself? Why was she
unwrapping the recent past and stabbing herself in the heart with
it?

Because Dr. Jan had asked her to.

At the end of last week’s session, Jan had
said that writing about how she felt would help her process her
emotions and provide clarity. So far, the only emotion Karma had
processed was intense sorrow, and the only clarity she felt was
that she still loved him. But then, she hadn’t gotten much further
with her blog than choosing a template and a mochaccino color
scheme. Maybe once she finally began writing, the magic of blogging
her pain away would take hold.

Still, she feared writing down her memories
would not only cement them in her mind, but also rip off the
Band-Aid from her wounded heart, which was sure to obliterate any
progress she and Jan had made toward healing it. But if this was
what Jan wanted her to do, she would do it. After all, Jan was the
professional.

But before she could spill her memories of
Mark, she needed a blog name. Something meaningful yet obscure
enough that no one she knew could tie the blog to her if they
stumbled across it.

She thought about it for a few minutes then
had an epiphany.