hard I don’t know what hit me. I wanted this to just be a fling, but I failed so hard I don’t know what happened.”
I’ve never been a guy to relish anyone’s failure, but I like hearing that. It’s not enough to ebb the pain of watching her cry, watching her break down so completely, but it’s something.
I take a deep breath and offer a confession of my own. “I knew we could never be just a fling. I agreed because it’s what you wanted, but deep down—” I bite off the rest of that statement, knowing it’s not helping. “We were always more than sex.”
She closes her eyes, but doesn’t deny it. “I know that.” She shakes her head slowly. “But there’s no room in my life for that. I can’t—I can’t fall in love. I just—that’s not in the cards for me.”
Can’t or won’t?
I don’t ask because it’s hardly the right question at the moment. I’m hung up on the betrayal, on the fact that she had so many opportunities to say something.
“I wish you’d told me.”
“I wish I had, too.” She opens her eyes and looks deep into mine, those green depths bright and watery. “So much. If I could go back in time, I would. I’d—I’d—” She chokes on another half sob, half laugh. “You know what? I might not change it. Because I’m greedy and selfish, and if it meant having only a few weeks with you, I’d still have chosen that. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
I bite back a retort about Izzy’s fumbling grasp of the truth. She had weeks to say something, but I understand why she didn’t. Hope can make people do strange things. I’ve watched cancer patients deny chemo, convinced their sister’s nanny’s aromatherapy regimen will be the cure. Even in the face of scientific facts, they’ll cling fiercely to their hope for a magic solution.
“You’re not awful, Iz.” Confused. Trapped. Maybe even a little imprudent, but she’s still the same big-hearted person I know. “I just wish you’d trusted me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “So sorry. It was wrong. I should have been honest from the start. I should have told you and Bree and Mark and James and—”
“Wait, your siblings don’t know?” I blink in astonishment. “But—how?”
Izzy wipes her eyes, then fumbles on the side table for a tissue. “No one outside Dovlano knows.” She hesitates, biting her lip. “Well, Dante.”
Oh. A puzzle piece clicks into place. “Was he sent here to make you come back?”
“I don’t know.” She wrings the tissue in her hands. “I thought so at first, but he’s had ample opportunity to force me to return. When he didn’t do that, I thought maybe…maybe my mother had a change of heart. That perhaps they sent him to watch over me while they worked out some way I could stay.”
I can see how she might cling to that fantasy. Hell, I wish for the same thing. “But that’s not the case.”
“No.” She shakes her head slowly, sadly. “My family drew the line in the sand. I’m required to return next week.”
Anger washes through me, and I’m not sure who I’m mad at. Izzy for keeping me in the dark all this time? Her parents for placing absurd requirements on a grown-ass woman?
Or this Prince Whatever asshole, the guy who gets to marry her. Thinking of him sets my blood boiling again, and I blurt my next question without thinking.
“Do you love him? Is there some part of you that wants to marry this guy?”
She blinks in astonishment. “What? No.” She says it like it’s the last thing in the world that crossed her mind, which points to a pretty major cultural gap. “He’s nearly twenty years my senior. I’ve heard he’s a decent enough man, but I have no frame of reference. We literally met twice—once at a regatta event, and another time at my mother’s birthday gala.”
Her eyes sweep mine, and I see the moment she hears the question I’d never be rude enough to ask. “He’s never laid a hand on me,” she adds. “We haven’t touched or kissed or—anything.”
“Okay.” I need to tread carefully. It’s not my place to mansplain free will, to downplay someone’s cultural heritage. “Izzy, you’re an adult. You get to make your own choices.”
She shakes her head slowly and swipes at the trickle of moisture on one cheek. “It isn’t that simple.”
“Why not? Explain it to me like I’m three. Like I’ve never heard of the concept of arranged