Secret (Betrothed #9) - Penelope Sky Page 0,22

on her lips, her eyes still giving away her unease if anyone was paying attention. “And thank you for coming.”

Damien moved in next, giving her a one-armed hug before he pulled away. “You were great.”

“Thanks…”

Her father brought up the rear, holding an arrangement of sunflowers. “Sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” He stared at her like she was his entire world, like the love in his heart couldn’t stay inside his chest. “It doesn’t matter how many times I watch you, I just can’t believe how talented you are.”

All the stress disappeared from her voice when she looked at her father. “Thank you, Daddy…”

He gave her the flowers. “Summer is almost over, but I managed to find these.”

She took the arrangement from his hands and brought it to her nose so she could smell them. Then her eyes softened in a new way, like the gesture was particularly evocative to her, like it really meant something. “Thank you so much…” She set them in the empty vase on her vanity. When she turned back to him, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, closing her eyes.

He hugged her back, cradling her like she was still the little girl he remembered.

Her father adored her, brought her flowers.

I never brought her flowers.

When she pulled away, her eyes were a little wetter than before, like she knew the moment would be a memory that she would hold on to when he was gone. “You guys want to take me out to dinner?”

“Yes,” her father said. “And you’re going to get a nice tiramisu—and eat it all.”

The joy I felt from kissing her was long gone. Now I felt pain, unbearable agony. I’d made a mistake I could never take back, did something unforgivable. Seeing how close she was to her father shattered all my hopes.

She would never forgive me for what I did. We couldn’t work past it. Time wouldn’t heal the wound.

Once she knew, she would leave me.

And never come back.

My clothes were on her bedroom floor, and I lay against her headboard in my boxers. The blinds to her window were open, so I stared at the buildings across the street, one hand behind my head as I replayed their interaction over and over in my head.

If only I could go back in time.

The locks to the front door clicked open, and Catalina stepped inside.

I was just about to get up to greet her when I heard other footsteps accompanying her. I settled back onto the bed and became still so they wouldn’t hear my large size make the bed creak.

“You guys didn’t have to walk me all the way to my door.” Catalina’s purse made a distinct thud on the counter when she set it down. Then her keys rang as they clattered against the dish in her entryway.

Damien’s deep voice was filled with concern when he spoke. “Cat, what’s with your door?”

She played dumb. “What do you mean?”

“It’s got five bolts on it, and it’s not the door you had before.” Suspicion was pregnant in his voice, picking up on the details only a criminal would notice. “And you have an alarm. Cat, what’s going on? You aren’t telling me something.”

I listened for her response, wondering how she would handle this. She probably knew I was in her bedroom, listening to the entire exchange.

“There was a break-in a few weeks ago,” she said. “My neighbors told me about it, so I asked my super to get a better door. That’s all. And the alarm is just good sense.” Her footsteps sounded as she walked across the floor. “Who wants wine? I just got a few new bottles the other day.”

No, I did.

“I’ll take some,” Anna said.

Damien didn’t let it go. “If you don’t feel comfortable here, I can always buy you a place—”

“Oh my god,” she said with a scoff. “Don’t be a drama queen. Now, you want red or white?”

Damien backed off, grudgingly. “Red.”

“Me too,” Anna said.

“Daddy?” Catalina asked, her voice a higher pitch whenever she spoke to him.

“I guess red,” he said, his voice deep and raspy.

She poured the glasses and handed them out. It seemed like Damien and Anna moved to the living room because their voices were farther away. Her father started to speak to her, keeping his voice down like he didn’t want his son to overhear.

“Maybe your brother is right,” he said, his voice coarse with age. “He could buy you a nice place close to the theater—”

“Daddy, I’m fine,”