Exhausted, I stared at my desk, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
But I knew…
No matter how much it hurt, I loved Lucian, and I would go through with this wedding for him.
The choice was simple.
So, unbearably. Painfully. Simple.
CHAPTER 23
ASPEN
LUCIAN: Ceremony is tomorrow at 2:30. Grace has taken care of everything.
Ishifted from foot to foot, nerves coiled tight, with my hand raised inches from the door. “Just knock,” I muttered to myself. “Just get it over with and knock. Get the dress. Get in and get out. Don’t be a little bitch.”
Still, I hesitated.
Ever since the message arrived early this morning, I’d waffled between pep talks to get me through and crafting excuses to avoid it altogether.
But everything led back to Felix and Grace. I hadn’t known them long, but they’d carved out a place inside me, making their happiness matter more than my doubts. When I pictured Grace preparing for the wedding, all while her husband was dying, I just…couldn’t. I couldn’t walk away. Not now. Not from them.
I remembered the moment Lucian’s face crumbled under the weight of Felix’s impending death, and my heart seized, ready to lay itself bare if it meant making part of this easier.
No, I had to go through with the wedding. Besides, we’d get an annulment, and it would be as if it had never even happened. Barely a blip on my timeline.
Of course, there would also be the kiss at the end of the wedding, which would be excruciating to endure, knowing it’d be the last. Unless we needed to present a happy married couple to Felix during his last few days. Lucian might kiss me then.
Maybe, I wondered, my stomach fluttering.
Hopefully, I wished, my heart thumping harder just imagining his lips against mine.
No. Not hopefully.I shut those traitorous thoughts down. If I was going to survive this, then my heart—the love still stubbornly clinging around the useless muscles—had no business adding any input. I needed to focus on using my brain and treat this like a business deal.
Our interactions would be short and simple.
Then we’d be done.
“You can do this.”
I raised my hand again and took a deep breath.
“No, I can’t,” I whined, reaching into my bag for the keys.
Maybe I’d get lucky, and he’d be in his office—I’d slip in and out before he even noticed. Or maybe I’d getreallylucky, and he wouldn’t be home at all.
I slid my shoes off as soon as I stepped inside, easing the door closed until it barely clicked, then tiptoed through the foyer. Peeking down the hall, I saw his office door standing open, which meant he wasn’t inside. I closed my eyes and listened for any sound at all.
I held my breath and listened. When the house stayed silent, I exhaled in shaky relief.
Still taking the smallest steps, I crept through the kitchen and past the living room, catching sight of the Jesus painting I demanded stay hanging up—only because I loved the way hefought me over it, only for us to fall into laughter by the end. My chest spasmed over the loss of never hearing his laugh. I’d spent so much time focused on our argument, replaying all the moments I swore he was falling in love with me too, that I forgot about all the things I was losing—like his happiness, which he shared with so few people. Even around Rose and Corbin, or Felix and Grace, he remained stoic, offering rare smiles.
My eyes burned, and I forced myself to look away as I headed up the stairs, straight to my old room.
I bought the dress on a whim. I’d seen it in a store and fell in love with the clean white lines of the long skirt with a scandalous slit, figuring I could wear it for a bridal shower or something. I’d hidden it away with the girlish fantasy of surprising him, wanting to see his eyes darken as they took me in.
Now, it all sank like a ship in the hollow pit of my stomach.
