“No,” she said. “I’m not going.”
Relief moved through me before I could hide it.
She saw that too.
“You look relieved.”
“I’m in pain.”
“Convenient.”
I closed my eyes for half a second.
When I opened them, she was still there.
Still beautiful.
Still furious.
Still not mine.
“I am relieved,” I said.
Her face changed.
There.
The truth.
Small, ugly, impossible.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
She knew me too well.
I let out a slow breath and felt pain tug at the stitches. “No.”
Destiny looked away first.
Victory had never felt worse.
“You’re engaged,” she said.
Georgia’s sweater sat on the chair.
Her coffee cup near the window.
Her ring somewhere out there on her hand while she bought breakfast or took a shower or tried to become human again after nearly losing me.
“I know.”
“You chose her.”
“I know.”
