That was the crack.
He stopped pacing and just stood there, hands braced on his hips, chest rising and falling faster than normal.
“You think moving out fixes it?” he continued. “You think Muriel suddenly becomes reasonable? You think Maddy stops circling? You think Edward develops a clue that his dick isn’t some magical dowsing rod that leads him to anything resembling an intelligent decision?”
I swallowed, internally cringing at those images.
“No.” It came out whisper soft, not because I was upset with him but because I wanted to fix this for Archie. This was all so unfair tohim.
“Exactly.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I spent my entire childhood being moved around because of theirdysfunction,” he said. “Boarding school. Europe. Summers away. You know why?”
I shook my head.
“So they wouldn’t have to see each other.”
That punched the air out of me.
“They removed me,” he went on, voice tighter now. “Like I was the inconvenience.”
The anger wasn’t explosive.
It was controlled.
Contained.
Barely.
I stood slowly and stepped toward him.
“You weren’t an inconvenience,” I said.
“Oh babe,” he laughed once — sharp and cutting without even an ounce of humor. “I was leverage. There’s a prenuptial between Edward and Muriel that locks up so much of their funds and their future, and it all hinges onme.”
I reached for him then. He didn’t resist. But he didn’t immediately relax either. No, he wrapped me up in his arms and I pressed my head to his chest, soaking in the beat of his heart as he fisted my hair.
“We don’t tell him tonight,” he said quietly. “Not while he’s in defense mode. Not while Muriel and Maddy are in offense mode.”
I whispered, digging my fingers into his back. “Then when?”
He exhaled. “When he asks.”
I blew out a breath and leaned back to look up at him. “And if he doesn’t?”
His gaze fixed on mine and something behind his eyes shifted. Something darker and fiercer filled them. “Then I will.” He rubbed his hands down my shoulders then my back.
My throat tightened at the way he looked at me.
“And you’re not moving out,” he added, softer now. “Not because of them. Not because of guilt.”
The suite felt enormous again, and yet too small.
“I don’t want to be the reason your family implodes,” I whispered.
His hands came to my face then, firm.
“You’renot,” he said. “You’re the only thing in this house that feels real.”
That broke me a little. Downstairs, a door slammed. Muted voices rose and they had to be loud for the sound to reach this far.
