I thought about Whit as a soldier, fighting against all odds to save a friend, contrary to a direct command. Even with Ricardo, he displayed an innate loyalty, sometimes to a frustrating degree, but that was only when he wouldn’t answer any of my questions. I leaned forward, nipped his ear. “You would never walk away from me.”
All trace of playfulness vanished off his face, as if he’d snuffed a candle and all that remained was a plume of smoke. “You know me well enough to talk in absolutes?”
“Protest however much you want, and however loudly, Mr. Hayes, but you can’t hide your honorability from me.”
“I’ve done many dishonorable things, Inez,” he said quietly.
“Has anyone ever told you how hard you are on yourself?”
“Has anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to believe the best in people?” he countered.
“Well, I think underneath all that cynicism, you love deeply. And you’re loyal. And kind,” I added because I couldn’t help myself.
Whit let out a laugh. “I’m not kind, either, Inez.”
“You can be,” I said stubbornly. “You are.”
Whit scowled in mock consternation and pinched my leg and I tried to squirm away, but he held on tight, one arm around my waist, the other draped over my legs. My dress was bunched around my ankles. I’d never dreamed I’d be in this position. We had fallen into our familiar rhythm of conversation, a fast waltz with dozens of tight spins. It left me breathless and oddly confident. Whit made it easy to be myself.
“I’ve only ever been truly kind to one person.” He shifted me closer.
“Just one?” I slowly shook my head. “I beg to differ.”
Whit smiled small. “I’ll concede that I may have been kind to you once or twice.”
More than once or twice. “What a concession.” I paused. “Who were you talking about?”
In response, he pulled me closer and whisked his lips over mine. His scent swirled between us, a cross of the great outdoors and fresh air and the tart bite of an orange slice.
“Are we done talking, then?” I asked, breathless.
He pulled back, enough to meet my gaze. “I want to know aboutyou. Your family.”
So, I told him. The long years of waiting for my parents to come back from Egypt, my aunt and her grating ways, my cousin Amaranta, who knew how to behave like a lady, and then Elvira. She was my favorite. My person. Every time I glanced over my shoulder, she had been there. She saw the best in me, and I thought we’d live next door to each other, collecting kittens who grew into sassy cats.
I’d never forget the moment I lost her. That exact moment when she was still breathing and a second later, when her face was blown apart. Unrecognizable. Her mistake was to follow in my footsteps, sneaking away to Egypt like I had done. I came searching for answers, but Elvira had come searching for me. Like she always did. Now, whenever I looked over my shoulder, she wouldn’t be there.
Whit gently wiped the tears from my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I’d started crying. I’d lost her less than a week ago, but it already felt like an eternity. I hated that there would be more days since the last time I was with her. Days that would turn into months. Months into years. Years into decades. And time would be cruel, because it would take my memories and blur them until I’d forget the details that made herher.
“If I lost Arabella, I would be inconsolable,” he whispered.
“Arabella?”
“She’s who I was talking about.”
“Your sister,” I said, remembering. A girl almost grown up, who loved painting in watercolor, who was innately curious. She sounded like someone I’d want to be friends with. I pictured her with the same hair color as Whit, the same pale blue eyes.
“My sister,” he confirmed. “The best of our family, and the nicest. She’s like a hummingbird, flitting around the house, making the servants laugh, charming animals, painting watercolors that look like they belong in thepages of Grimms’ fairy tales. We don’t deserve her.” His face turned somber. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
“Kindandloyal,” I mused.
Whit rolled his eyes. “Once you make up your mind about something, there’s just no changing it, is there?”
I couldn’t understand why he kept trying to dismiss the qualities he had that I admired. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.”
“I’m not a hero,” he muttered, his chin pointed down. “One conversation with my parents and you’d know the truth.”
“It sounds like they were hard on all their children.”
