I don’t blame him.
But I know guilt, and it stings me like crawling scorpions.
Did I make the right decision? Running away frommydream, my life, from Brady? When I think about it too much, they’ve become indistinguishable in my head.
Pawsome Hearts and Brady Pruitt, tangled up in an inseparable mess I blew to smithereens.
Oh, scorpions, you don’t let up. Your venom makes me feel so shitty, and it’s what I deserve.
It’s not like I had a choice. Not with Harry holding a blackmail gun to my head.
Sticking around would’ve meant disaster for Brady, his family, for my business. Any doctor I could’ve partnered with would’ve ran away for sure the instant they got a whiff of that scandal.
I couldn’t do it, risking a bigger heartbreak for—what, exactly? A not-relationship that was always meant to end?
And if I told him, he’d have gone for Harry’s throat. He might’ve done something unholy for me, ruining the rest of his life. The polar opposite of what this whole dumb fake engagement was supposed to accomplish.
God.
I’m wallowing in self-pity, but I try to stop when I see Elle coming my way, still wearing that permanent cheery smile.
“Isn’t it refreshing out here? I love the fresh air.”
“Yep. Worry-free,” I lie.
We’re slowly gliding toward the center of the glassy lake as she climbs into the chair next to me. “We’re on the boat now, so what’s the story? Do I have to remind you that you would’ve clawed my face off if I’d been this tight lipped during my drama?”
Touché.
I tilt my head back, staring at the baby blue sky as my stomach knots.
There’s no way to avoid the truth—I’m a coward and I’m running. It doesn’t matter if I’ve picked a beautiful place to escape.
“It wasn’t fake,” I whisper.
“Duh.”
I look up and roll my eyes at her. “Girl, come on. You could at leastpretendto be sympathetic.”
“Oh, I’m plenty sympathetic. If I had some tea aboard, I’d be giving you the whole Gran-bleeding-heart tea chat right now. But anyone could tell you’re heels over head for this guy. I’ll trust you that he’s over the playboy stuff—but does he love you back?”
Love?
Oh, shiiiit.
That’s a big little word.
I mean, we’ve been together for less than a season.
Face-to-face, it’s more like a matter of weeks.
Magical, life-bending weeks that have turned me inside out and made me wear my own skin like a scarf, but weeks, yes.
“He likes me, I guess.” I have to look away when I say it, blinded by the hurt, angry eyes Brady gave me right before I walked out.
“So, he’s at home, then, nursing a broken heart. Just like you,” she points out.
“He has the best girl for company. I miss that dog so much.” I break, smiling at her even as my lips quiver.
