Pain pulsed in my chest, sharp and merciless.
“I’d rather die than marry anyone except her.”
The words hung there, heavy and absolute. Henry’s expression shifted, something like pity flaring there before he stomped it out.
“You know how that sounds, right?” he asked quietly.
“Like a man who finally knows what he wants.” I let my hands drop to the arms of the chair, fingers curling into the worn leather. “And like a man who was too much of a goddamn disaster to deserve it.”
He studied me, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was measuring something in his head.
“Did you tell her that?” he asked. “Any of it?”
“She’d have laughed in my face,” I muttered. “Or hit me. Both would have been well-deserved.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not.”
I looked away.
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. For the first time in a very long while, he looked his age. Older, even. Tired.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said. “You’re grieving. You’re in pain. You’re afraid. All valid, but none of them are a good basis for making irrevocable decisions about your life.”
“So your suggestion is what?” I asked. “I pick whichever contestant slapped the maid and offer her a ring?”
“The maid-slapper was eliminated,” he said dryly. “Try to keep up.”
Despite everything, a laugh scraped its way out of my chest. It sounded rusty and dead-on-arrival. Henry let me have it, just for a second, before his face went serious again.
“Listen to me,” he said. “You have five and a half days. That’s an eternity and no time at all. What you are not going to do is sign anything over, blow up any trusts, or hand Vivian a win because you’re wallowing.”
“It’s not wallowing,” I said. “It’s accepting reality.”
“Bullshit,” he said, with uncharacteristic bite. “Reality is that you are wounded, traumatized, and in love with a woman who has every right to be livid with you. Reality is also that you’re still breathing, still on this side of the dirt, and the clock hasn’t hit midnight yet. That means there’s room for movement.”
“Movement?” I echoed. “She left, Henry. She told me exactly what I did wrong. She told me I could have had everything if I’d just been honest, then told me to stay the fuck away from her, and then she walked out of my life. Where’s the movement inthat? ‘Hey, sorry I built a psychological Saw-style trap around you, want to try again?’”
“If you go to her with that line, I’ll personally help her stab you,” he said. “But there are conversations to be had. Amends to be made. You’re acting like she vanished into another dimension. She went back to her life.”
“Her life,” I whispered, “which I might have ruined.”
He watched me for a beat too long for comfort.
“I’ll look into it,” he said quietly. “Discreetly. Make sure she has what she needs. Make sure Vivian’s people aren’t sniffing around anywhere they shouldn’t be.”
Fear crawled under my skin.
“Vivian wouldn’t touch her, would she?” I asked.
He lifted a brow. “You want to bet your life on that? Or Chrissy’s?”
Silence.
“She wants the estate,” I said. “She doesn’t care about?—”
“She cares about leverage,” he cut in. “She cares about pain. She cares about making examples. And unless I misread the situation entirely, you just bled all over the snow for this girl. Even Vivian can do that math.”
My stomach turned to ice.
