22
Kit
The obvious solution,I’d decided by the time the sun rose on Christmas day, was to simply not tell Andy that I’d ultimately inherited my grandfather’s title.
After all, it didn’thaveto make a difference. I’d been living quietly in New York for years without incident.
Even as I thought it, my stomach knotted up.
I knew better than to lie to Andy. Not telling him my father was a Marquess was one thing. Not telling him thatIwas now a Duke was quite another, and would eventually come out.
And when it did, it would break his heart, and he’d leave me, and I’d deserve it.
But perhaps I could have a day or two to prepare myself. After all, it’d taken three years to tell Andy the truth about my father. Surely he’d be impressed that it only took me three days to tell him about this?
You promised no more secrets, an unpleasant, unhelpful little voice in my head reminded me.
I shut it up with a kiss to Andy’s shoulder.
I couldn’t lose him. Not yet. Not when I’d just had a taste of everything we could have been together, of what our lives could’ve been like.
Tomorrow. I’d tell him tomorrow, when it wouldn’t ruin Christmas for him.
Or when I’d decided what I was going to do about it. I had until New Year’s Eve to disclaim the title, after all.
I didn’t have to make a decision yet. I didn’t have to set the rest of my life in stonejustyet. I could have one more day of Kit and Andy.
“Morning,” he said, sleepy, turning over to face me.
He was so soft in the mornings, hair ruffled and face relaxed, his smile at least twice as pretty.
One last morning. All I wanted was one last morning.
“Hello, darling,” I said, smiling at him past the icy grip around my heart.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, voice sleep-rough.
And he wasworriedabout me.
I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve any of this.
Perhaps it was for the best that I was about to lose it.
“I find I sleep much better next to you,” I said, tucking a stray curl behind his ear.
Andy lit up with simple joy, smiling brightly at me. “We’ll have lots of sleepovers when we get back,” he said. “Until we figure out which room we both wanna move into.”
My heart lurched. I couldn’t listen to him talk about the future. Not when I knew that, if by some miracle we had one together, it wouldn’t look the way he thought it might.
“I mean, uh... if you don’t mind sharing a room, maybe you’d rather have some space, I noticed your mom and dad have separate rooms. I don’t wanna be culturally insensitive here.”
I forced myself to take a breath and smile at him, letting the thought of the gift he’d given me last night fill my heart instead of the dread of what the future might bring.
“That would be the culture of wealthy people who can’t get a divorce without causing a scandal but don’t particularly like each other,” I said. “I like you very much.”
“So I can wake up like this every morning?” Andy asked.
“Of course,” I lied.
