“C’était juste un baiser? Was it just a kiss?” My voice remains steady while my mind floods with images I immediately try to banish.
Her eyes widen. “Yes! Of course, it was just a kiss.”
“Then tell me exactly what happened. No vague explanations. I want the truth.”
Meesha wraps her arms around herself. “We talked at the bar for a while. He was charming and—”
“And what? Handsome? Exciting? Not predictable like me?” Pain fuels my words.
“That’s not fair,” she whispers.
“Neither is lying to me for weeks, câlisse. So, finish the story. You talked, and then?”
She stares at the floor. “He kissed me, and for a moment... I kissed him back.”
“Pour combien de temps? For how long??” The question sounds petty even to my ears, but I need to know.
“Connor—”
“How. Long?”
She swallows hard. “A few seconds. Maybe thirty before I pulled away.”
“T’as aimé ça? Did you enjoy it?”
“No! I felt horrible immediately. When he kissed me again, I ran away from him.”
I laugh without humor. “Voyons donc! So there wasn’t just one moment of weakness but two?”
“No, Connor, it wasn’t like that! It was all within the same minute. I pulled back after the first kiss, confused and shocked, and he leaned in again before I could even process what was happening. That’s when I pushed him away completely and left.”
Ben là, I stare at her for a long moment. “Where were his hands, Meesha?”
“His hands?” She looks startled by the question.
“Yes. His hands.”
“During the first kiss, one was on my waist...” she pauses, swallowing hard. “The other moved to the back of my neck.” She looks away briefly. “When he kissed me the second time, I think both his hands were on my face before I pushed against his chest to get away.”
“So it wasn’t just a quick peck. He held you.”
“Connor, please. It was a horrible mistake that meant nothing.”
“Yet somehow he found you in Winter Bay. Found me. And you still said nothing.”
“I was trying to protect what we have!”
“You weren’t protecting us, Meesha. You were protecting yourself. This wasn’t about a kiss. This was about you having doubts about marrying me and being too afraid to say it.”
Her face crumples. “That’s not true. I love you. I want to marry you.”
“But you had to test the water first? See if the grass was greener?” My voice rises despite my efforts. “What else haven’t you told me? What other ‘moments of weakness’ am I going to discover?”
“Nothing! There’s nothing else.”
“How can I believe that now?” I move toward the bedroom, needing distance before I say something unforgivable. “Ten years, Meesha. We’ve been dating for a decade. I’ve held your hand through every crisis, celebrated every victory. We’re planning a life together, and you needed to see if there was something better out there.”
“It wasn’t about better,” she pleads. “It was about different. About being sure.”
