In the next second, the laugh died in my throat, twisting into self-loathing. Ever since Aspen told her father about our engagement, she’d been nothing but all in, and I still let cynicism and doubt turn me into an asshole.
No. Daria turned you into an asshole. Daria planted that cynicism.
The reassurance rang hollow.
“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Grace, for everything.”
“Of course. We’ll talk soon.”
Aspen hung up the phone after we said our goodbyes and headed into the store.
She drifted along the shelves, and I watched.
The same cool composure she’d greeted me with still framed her features, but somewhere along the way I’d started noticing the warmth beneath it. The softness she tried to keep hidden. Even knowing it was there, she still managed to surprise me.
She lifted a small figurine, glanced at the price, and huffed under her breath — scandalized by whatever absurd number the store had slapped on it.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she ran her fingers over pillows and folded blankets. She barely paused long enough to really look, but she touched everything — like texture alone was enough to delight her.
It was all so effortless. Unaware.
So perfectly her.
I hadn’t realized my face pinched as I studied her until she caught me staring. “What?” she asked, her own brows pulled tight.
“Nothing.” I shook my head and relaxed my features, diverting my attention. I picked up a crushed blue velvet pillow that reminded me of a photo I saw of her couch in her old apartment and wondered if she’d like this around our home. Even hearing the words in my head—our home—sent my thoughts fumbling before coming up with an excuse to be staring so intently. “I just never expected you to go out of your way for my godparents.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I put the pillow down and considered my answer.
The reality was that I compared every woman to Daria, and she would never have gone out of her way for my family. That kind of caring was something I had always hoped my wife would do when I’d imagined my marriage.
But I couldn’t admit—even to myself—any connection between Aspen and the woman I dreamed of marrying when I was younger.
“Because it wasn’t part of our agreement,” I claimed instead, my words harsher than I intended. “All you needed to do was pretend to be my wife. Not make the rest of my family fall in love with you.”
Her head jerked back as if my words landed a physical blow, with features pulled into a frown. But then…she did that magical thing I’d witnessed time and again—her face smoothed into cool indifference. The problem was that now I saw past her false control and knew that a myriad of emotions from hurt to anger brewed beneath—and knew it was my fault.
“I thought you said that thiswasareal marriage,and I was areal wife.” I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. “And it’s not like I’m trying to make them fall in love with me. I’m just being a decent human.And, just because you’re so averse to loving someone doesn’t mean everyone else is,” she snapped, successfully calling me out for my shit before walking away.
I sighed, knowing I should follow her. It was just that watching her interact with my family increased the heat simmering under my skin, a heat I kept trying to ignore. On top of that, witnessing how much they cared added a whole new layer of guilt. I hadn’t expected them to accept her and become so close.
As if lying to them hadn’t weighed on me enough, the thought of their reaction when Aspen left in five years banded around my chest, constricting the air to my lungs.
“Lucian?” a familiar voice called, flooding me with the usual rush of anger that coiled around my muscles, pulling them tight.
I drew a deep breath and borrowed a page from Aspen’s book, sliding on a mask of cool indifference. There was no way in hell I was letting her see how much that voice still affected me.
Because it didn’t.
I gave my head a sharp mental shake and reminded myself how much better my life was now than when I’d been a naïve romantic. I turned, taking in the same face from almost fifteen years ago. A little older, but still smoothly polished like the perfect trophy she always wanted to be.
Except…
My gaze dropped to find her swollen stomach.
The sight slammed into me, a brutal hit to the solar plexus that threatened to crack my carefully controlled expression.
