Non-negotiable.
Badger-stubborn.
Then he’s stomping through the snow, up the twinkling path and the wide, ivy-lined steps of his ridiculous mansion like he’s on a mission.
He doesn’t even slip.
Show-off.
My cheeks are burning.
My heart is hammering.
My brain is still scrambling to catch up with this whirlwind.
But the craziest part?
I don’t really want him to put me down.
Which is probably why I stop fighting so hard.
My hands curl into his tux jacket, and I peek up at his too handsome face.
He looks carved from granite and firelight, his brow furrowed, lips in a hard line, but his eyes—those damn brilliant green eyes—look like he’s barely holding it together.
“I didn’t leave because I used you,” he growls low, voice vibrating against my side.
“I left because I had to. But I knew the second I saw you sleeping there in my arms that I’d never be the same again.”
Oh.
Oh, hell.
I think I just forgot how to breathe.
My body goes stock-still in his arms.
Not because I’m scared. But because I think something inside me cracked wide open.
I feel it—the slow, splintering ache of hope trying to bloom in the shadow of heartbreak.
And I wonder, am I strong enough to survive this?
Chapter 21
Marigold
Eb doesn’t say another word.
Doesn’t try to explain or justify or charm his way past the damage.
He just holds me like I’m precious and I wonder if he’ll kick the door open with one booted foot. Like a proper romantic action hero.
Shh—that’s silly. You don’t want him to break his house.
Still, I should be protesting.
I should be yelling or demanding answers or, I don’t know, threatening to summon Uncle Uzzi and have him curse Eb’s favorite brand of beard oil.
