again, gently tugging her closer. “That must be so impossible to process. I get why you’re not ready to talk about it yet—so don’t worry, I’m not going to pressure you. And I won’t ask who they are.”
“Good,” Sophie told him, surprised by the snap in her tone.
But Fitz…
Fitz was smiling.
Not a huge dopey grin or anything, but…
He looked so relieved.
And as much as she hated it, she needed him to understand.…
“I can’t tell you who they are, Fitz,” she said, pulling her hands away. “Not now—not ever. Though, for the record, I only figured out one. They each don’t know who the other is, remember?”
Fitz’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Does that mean you talked to one?”
Before she could find a way to dodge that question, he jumped to the conclusion she’d really been hoping he wouldn’t.
“Wait. Is it Councillor Oralie?”
Sophie shook her head once again, hating the lie—but she had to stop this.
“I told you I can’t tell you anything—and I thought you just said you weren’t going to ask.”
The snap was back in her voice—even sharper this time—and Fitz definitely noticed.
His jaw even locked for a second, and his face was all harsh shadows and angles.
But he took a steadying breath of his own before he said, “You’re right. Sorry. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Sophie had to laugh at that.
Ugly, snorty giggles.
Because he Just. Wasn’t. Listening.
“No, I won’t, Fitz. I told you—I can’t tell anyone. Why do you think I’m so upset? I can’t tell anyone—and I’m going to have to live with what that means.”
Fitz blinked as he processed that, not seeming to notice the tears gathering in her eyes.
It felt like he was staring right through her as he decided, “It’s definitely Councillor Oralie.”
And Sophie didn’t know if she wanted to scream or sob or shake him really, really, really hard until he finally heard what she was trying to tell him.
But she was too tired for any of that.
Fresh tears streaked down her face as she begged, “Please stop guessing, Fitz. Please. This is going to be awful enough. Just please. Please let it go. Please.”
“Okay,” he promised, closing the distance between them and pulling her into a hug. “I’ll leave it alone.”
“Thank you,” Sophie whispered, sinking into the hug.
And for that one quiet second, everything was good.
Or as good as it could be.
And then Fitz asked, “But… what about the match?”
And Sophie leaned back, meeting his eyes, trying to find the will to say the words he surely already knew were coming.
But after the day she’d had, she didn’t have anything left.
Fitz nodded slowly, his face shifting back into lines and shadows. “So… that’s the plan, then? You’re just going to keep this all a big secret and live with the consequences—and you didn’t think you should at least discuss that with me first?”
“Discuss it with you?” Sophie repeated.
“Um, yeah—you’re not the only one this affects!”
And there it was.
The truth they’d been dancing around, finally forcing them to face it.
“You… don’t want me to be unmatchable,” Sophie mumbled.
“Of course I don’t! No one wants that, Sophie—no matter what they’re telling you. And you don’t want it either—you know you don’t.”
“I don’t,” Sophie agreed. “But I don’t have a choice.”
“Really? Because it seems pretty simple to me. You’re fifty percent of the way there to fixing everything.”
The sound she made was somewhere between a sigh and a weary laugh. “No, I’m not, Fitz. How many times do I have to say this? I. Can’t. Tell. Anyone.”
“So… what you’re really saying is… protecting that secret is more important than your future?”
“Sort of?” Sophie said, wanting to feel angry but instead feeling very, very sad.
She wished she didn’t have to explain the next part, but she forced out the words. “I can still have a future, Fitz. It’ll be a little more complicated, but… what else is new?”
She knew she was mostly trying to convince herself in that moment.
But she really, really, really needed Fitz to agree with her.
Instead, he said, “I… don’t think you’ve thought this through. But of course you haven’t. It’s late. You’ve had a long day with lots of huge stuff. So… can we just agree to not make any decisions right now?”
“We?” Sophie repeated.
“Uh, yeah. Like I said—this affects both of us, doesn’t it? Shouldn’t we decide it together?”
He actually said the words quite sweetly.
Gently.
Maybe even a little tenderly.
But they were still all wrong.
“No, Fitz—it’s my life. I’m the one who makes this decision.”
Fitz straightened up. “Just like that.”
She nodded.
“And you’re not