Jane answered by shoveling more chocolate into her mouth, and Don’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Ivan shifted in his seat, but no one said a word.
My stomach flipped. “Is this aboutthe grannies?” I asked, half laughing, half nervous. “Audrey and Carinanicknamed them that. Did it make you uncomfortable seeing me with the rest of your family?”
Nothing.
The silence was heavy, thick, and suffocating.
I frowned. “Guys? Seriously. What’s going on?”
Ivan didn’t look at me. Not even once. His jaw ticked. His hands were braced on his thighs like he was bracing for impact.
Something icy slid down my spine.
“Ivan?” I whispered.
I turned to face him fully, heart picking up. “You’re scaring me. Tell me what happened.”
Jane choked quietly on a breath behind us. Don cleared his throat.
And Ivan—my steady, unshakeable Ivan—finally turned his head.
His eyes looked devastated.
“Look, if this is about Donovan, I didn’t mean to hurt you by being there and letting you touch me. I’m trying to figure everything out with him.” I leaned into the opening between us and lowered my voice. “I don’t want to go through with it. I don’t want to marry him. I’m thinking about running away.”
I let out a small, breathless laugh. Because, of course, that was what this was all about. How could I possibly allow Ivan to touch me and hold me and dance with me when I was promised to another? I was working on it. I was going to have a plan. I’d made up my mind tonight. I had enough money to escape. I could do it.
Nothing landed. He didn’t even blink. His eyes just looked more and more hollow the more I spoke.
“Ivan?” I whispered again, leaning in. “Please say something.”
He swallowed once. My brain was frantically trying to piece it all together. Why wasn’t he talking? Why couldn’t he say something? What was going on? Maybe it wasn’t about Donovan at all… but then if it wasn’t about my fiancé… then what could possibly be this bad?
His nostrils flared once. Jane let out a sharp gasp behind us.
But I kept going—because this was the only explanation that made sense. The only wound I thought I could soothe because what else could it be?
A small, breathless laugh escaped me, nervous and tired. “I know it sounds insane, but—I’ve made up my mind. Tonight helped. I’ll disappear. I have enough money to make it work. I can escape. I can?—”
“Stop,” Ivan said.
“Poppy,” he breathed. “This isn’t about Donovan.”
Don’s fingers tightened on the wheel again. Jane’s breathing was fast and uneven in the back seat. Ivan looked at me like he was about to confess something that would shatter the world between us.
“This is about your father.”
I snorted. “What about him?”
“I wanted to wait until we were back at my mother’s home,” I nodded. Now that he was talking about my father, I agreed. This SUV was too small. There wasn’t enoughroom for whatever bomb he was about to drop, I could feel it.
“I didn’t want you hearing this like…” he swallowed, voice rough, “…like this.”
A tremor crawled across the back of my neck. “Ivan, just say it.” He didn’t.
Ivan Cristof—who never flinched, never faltered, never feared a damn thing—winced as if the truth was a blade pressed to his throat. Behind us, Jane sucked in a brittle, panicked breath.
“Poppy,” she whispered.
