of marriage. Lord knows the traditional route hasn’t gone great in my own family.
But the way Izzy’s sobbing makes it clear she’s not thrilled with her nuptial plans. Or maybe I’m reading it wrong. Maybe it’s shame, a hollowed-out regret over what she and I have done together. I drop my hands, not wanting to make things worse by touching her when that might be the last thing she needs.
She gulps for air like she’s drowning, composing herself enough to get the words out. “His name is Stefano Romano Charnelton, and he’s a prince. From Saxenheim, the country that borders Dovlano on the northwest tip.”
Hearing the names, the specifics, makes it real. It also makes my head throb. A tiny flicker of anger flares to life in my chest, and I take slow, deep breaths so it doesn’t blaze bigger. Cortisol floods my system, a symptom of stress and jealousy. I urge my brain to override emotion.
My brain tells me to suck rocks.
“So, we’ve been cheating.” I cringe at my own words, though at least I managed to say “we” and not “you.” I cross my arms, then uncross them so I don’t seem like an angry prick. “It would have been nice to know I’m participating in infidelity.”
Izzy flinches like I’ve struck her. “Dovlanese arranged marriages aren’t like an American engagement. There’s no ring, no expression of devotion. Just a lot of paperwork and handshakes between parents.”
“But you’re engaged.”
Izzy bites her lip. “We don’t use that term. My family signed documents when I was seventeen, though the terms state we’re not required to wed until I’m thirty. I never met Stefano until just a few years ago. ‘Promised’ might be a more accurate term than ‘engaged,’ though perhaps I’m splitting hairs.” She looks down at her hands. “I never promised anything.”
I’m torn between sympathy and anger. Anger that she never said a word. Never mentioned this when we discussed dreams and relationships and everything else under the sun. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looks up, and the pain in her eyes sends me reeling. “I was hoping something might change. That my mother would see I’m happy here and let me stay.” She bites her lip but doesn’t break eye contact. “That maybe they’d find another match for Stefano, or he’d ask to be released from the betrothment. There’s a medical clause, an escape hatch he could use in light of my kidney transplant.” She’s talking faster now, hands balled at her sides. “I thought he might want to get out of it, assuming I’d have difficulty producing an heir. Or he might not want to endure the trauma in twenty years when the doctors say I’ll likely need another kidney transplant.” She’s gasping now, like she can’t get enough air. “Or he could be hit by a taxi, a bus maybe, or an airplane crash. I don’t wish him ill, but—but—” She chokes out a sound that’s part sob, part hysterical laugh as she covers her face with her hands. “I was hoping for a miracle.”
“Okay.” A wave of sympathy cools the embers of my anger, but I’m still mad. And confused. And jealous and reeling from at least a dozen other emotions I know shouldn’t control my response right now. “You still could have told me. Seems like the sort of thing you might have shared before we slept together.”
She flinches, then squares her shoulders. “You’re right.” Her throat moves as she swallows. “You’re absolutely right.”
“So why didn’t you say anything?”
She hesitates. “Because I wanted you. I know that’s selfish and awful, and I’m not proud.”
I am, just a tiny bit. It’s flattering to have a woman like Iz throw caution to the wind because she wants me that badly, but I can’t let my ego rule me right now. “Okay,” I say slowly. “I mean, I wanted you, too, obviously—”
But somehow it became more than that. I thought I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. I could have sworn she was on the same page, but now I’m not so sure.
“I thought we could keep things physical,” she chokes out. “Just a hot, sexy hookup before I settle down and fulfill my duties. We both knew I was leaving, so I thought we’d be okay with an end date.” She bites her lip again. “I thought I wouldn’t fall for you.”
“But you did.” I try not to speak the question mark at the end, but she still hears it.
“Yes,” she says. “I fell hard. So