“Looking mighty proud of yourself.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “It means I am loving you right. It means that even if I fuck this up, there’s still hope.”
He can’t do anything wrong in my eyes. Or maybe I am biased. Loving someone as madly as I love him can do that. “You could never.”
“I’ll remind you of that.”
“No need. How could I forget?”
I could forget everything else but not that.
“We should go inside. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Just a bit longer,” I whisper, not ready to say goodbye.
I doubt I will survive this weekend unscathed if every second threatens to make me tear up. It’s like the breeze itself carries nostalgia, filling my lungs until I choke on the bittersweet memories.
“Tell me about the new building,” I say just to hear him talking.
“We’re on time, like always.”
I tilt my head, my voice ending on an awed note. “I’ve never heard of that happening in construction.”
“That’s because they’re not me and don’t have my people. My word is my everything. I can’t afford to break it,” he says matter-of-factly, not to gloat, it’s simply the principle he lives by.
He kisses my temple. “Is my valedictorian ready to graduate?”
Every fiber in my being tenses, threatening to snap under the pressure.
No, I am not, because that means it’s time for my wedding. That I will start a new chapter. One that feels like a minefield, and I am terrified even to tiptoe for fear of getting blasted.
One day after I graduate, I will be engaged.
One month later, I will get married.
18
TRISTAN
She can’t get enough of me over the weekend—insatiable, matching my fervent desire to the point of melting into each other. Fucking for hours on end, on every surface of the house, with only a break when we go to the farm to ride.
I am aware of what she’s trying to do—soak up every minute as if it were the last. It is on the tip of my tongue to tell her that this is not goodbye, while her desperation only makes me wilder for her.
We will not end. She won’t have to miss anything, me, our togetherness, her horse. Everything I have is hers. I am entirely hers.
But sorrow lurks in the shadows, reminding me that my time is running out. She won’t want me once she finds out the truth, but she will learn to accept it. She promised, damn it, that she would love me, regardless. That’s what I cling to like it’s my rope to sanity while misery stretches under me, threatening to swallow me.
The pendulum swings from euphoria to agony in an inflexible arc, tearing me apart.
I don’t stand on moral ground here. I can’t be mad at her for deceiving me when I’ve been doing the same thing.
She just has to play along, needing her to look at me as if she can’t stand me rather than gaze at me adoringly.
I have little desire to deal with the repercussions of playing the Syndicate. The only time they lost a power game was when Calla and Enzo outsmarted them. While I care little about casualties, it’s her family involved. I want her to visit them if she wishes to, because the Syndicate and I are too busy sabotaging each other.
For the first time in my fucking life, I hope. Hope that our love will prevail. Hope that she will forgive me. Hope that her goodness will trump the hurt I will cause.
I earned her love once. I will do it again, even if it turns me into a beggar, even if it takes the rest of my life to earn her forgiveness and gain her trust back. I’ll turn winning her and her love back into my life’s mission, refusing to lose her.
