Page 58 of Break My Heart

My heart thuds in defeat. Then she mutters, “I need twenty minutes. I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”

Then she steps back to let me inside her room with an order. “Wait here.”

I begin the countdown, focusing all my energy on the responsibility I’m dreading.

Tell Christin the truth.

The restaurant is tucked into the far side of the hotel—quiet, private. It is the kind of establishment where conversations don’t leave, and nothing slips past the lips of the staff by accident.

Christin notices the ambiance immediately. “Beautiful,” she says as I hold her chair out for her to sit.

“I was aiming for contained.”

“Of course you were.”

The staff appears silently. We order, and then they disappear into the shadows.

“You drove well,” she says first.

“Better than I have.”

“Yes.”

I huff a breath. “You say that like it impresses you.”

“Would you prefer I bemoan the fact that you only came in second when last season your highest finish was fifth?”

There’s a teasing lilt to her voice that both surprises me and stirs my blood. I can’t help but adore her. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

I lift a flute of mango juice up and tilt it in her direction. “I meant to say this before, but thank you.”

“For what?”

“For correcting something I couldn’t explain felt wrong.”

She reminds me, “I didn’t do it for you, initially.”

Judging by the smile in her voice, I know that’s changed. “Now?”

“I realized this isn’t just a sport for you. It’s part of your identity.”

I exhale slowly before asking, “How much do you remember me talking about my family?”

“Just the barebones. Your parents are alive. You have an older brother. You don’t speak with any of them.” She smiles ruefully before admitting, “Neither of us really talked in depth about family, did we?”

“No, we didn’t. To be honest, I deliberately steered the conversation away from a lot of family talk.”

Christin surmises, “And there’s a reason for that?”

“There is, and it had absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you.” I didn’t plan on telling her before we had a chance to eat, but I doubt I’ll get a better opening. I blurt out, “My father is the Earl of Hawthorne.”

“That’s nice?” She doesn’t know what to say.

I know the feeling all too well. For a moment, I’m back there, recalling the way my parents blatantly ignored me. The endless cycle of nannies. How my older brother had the opportunity and means to defend me, but didn’t. While it explains the root of my problems, it doesn’t take away her hurt. I shove a hand through my hair, gaze dropping for a second before coming back to meet hers. “I didn’t…” I pause again, searching. “I didn’t realize what I was saying.”

“Well, just for future reference, a good start might be not telling someone else the woman you claim to love would disappear in your world. Even if you don’t know they’re within earshot.”