“But now if Edward appeared and asked me to marry him, I’d look him dead in the face and say no.” It feels good to admit that—to myself and to Feylin. “All Edward wanted was another magical connection, a stepping stone for his career.”
“You are so much more than a stepping stone,” he murmurs in a way that makes my rib cage squeeze my heart so hard it may pop out of my chest. “And what about you? What do you want?”
When was the last time I asked myself that question? I can’t even remember. “I had my dream job, picking out books for people, so that’s what I’d love to return to, or do somethingsimilar. I just love helping people find something that’s perfect for them.”
He takes a sip of wine, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. “And what makesyouhappy?”
You,I almost blurt out.Youmake me happy.
Good grief, where did that come from?
“This dinner makes me happy,” is as close as I can get to the truth. “And reading, of course.”
He settles the glass on the table. “What’s your favorite book?”
“Oh gosh. There are so many. Let’s see…” I rack my brain because this really is hard. “If I had to pick just one, I guess it would bePride and Prejudice.”
“Ah, the Jane Austen classic.”
My entire face brightens. “You know it?”
“Half-human mother, don’t forget.”
“Right. Well, yes, that’s my favorite book.” I cock my head and pretend to study him. “You know, you’d make a perfect Mr. Darcy.”
He tips his head back and roars with laughter. After several long seconds he rights himself, using the heel of his hand to wipe his right eye. “I guess I deserve that. But you realize that if I’m Mr. Darcy, that makes you my Elizabeth Bennett.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. How ridiculous. I’m not Elizabeth Bennett. But before I have a chance to argue, I sneak a glance at him. There’s no amusement in his eyes, no laughter. He’s serious. I gulp past the knot in my throat and suddenly feel very, very hot.
Wanting to shift the conversation to something besides the growing tension building between us, I decide to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, which turns out to be, “Ophelia told me something about the joining, but she can’t be right.”
Yep. Brilliant way to get us off the topic ofus.
He shifts his attention to his plate as if he’s just as happy as I am for a distraction. “What did she say?”
“Something about,” I say dismissively, “about it being something about love, which is silly.” And now my cheeks are on fire as he watches me carefully, so I quickly toss out more words. You know, because why not? Why not dig the grave deeper? “The joining’s power is so crazy. It’s impossible to separate true feelings from the magic.”
“Is it?”
His eyes are holding me hostage now. My brain’s spinning, whirling, spiraling into darkness. “I…I don’t know. I mean, how does it end? If the joining was created to bring two people together before marriage, are they stuck in this”—my hand motions up and down toward him—“state for the rest of their lives?”
“No,” he says quietly. “The joining ends on the couple’s wedding night.”
Relief floods me.Wait. Why am I relieved? “But you said that we don’t have to get married.”
“We don’t. Not to break a joining.”
“Oh.” I sink back onto my chair and take another bite of spaghetti. “So you found a way to end it?”
Does this mean we’ll do it right now? Break the joining? But what would that mean for us, for our agreement?
He wipes a napkin over his mouth and drops it onto the table beside him. “As far as I know, there’s only one way to end it.”
What?Anger flares hot in my core. “And you’ve been keeping this from me?”
“Because you won’t like it.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” When he doesn’t reply, I push slightly. “What is it?”
