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“Ryan knows you aren’t Lance,” Aura said.
“That isn’t the point. Loving me gave Lance access to him. Trusting me put every private part of our relationship close enough for Lance to steal and rearrange. Ryan protected me while he was being investigated for hurting me.” A sob split through the final words. “Why would he ever put himself back inside that?”
“Because you’re different,” Bliss said.
“I was already in treatment when Lance contacted Milwaukee. Ryan was already gone. None of that stopped Lance from finding another way to hurt him.”
“You can’t decide for Ryan.”
“He already decided.”
“Then let him tell you that.”
“He has! I’m the one who keeps acting like no is part of a negotiation.”
Bliss’s tears fell freely. “You told us he opened the door.”
“He opened it for one weekend. I decided that meant I could keep pushing until he forgot why he locked it.”
“That isn’t what you’re doing.”
“It is from his side. He told me I treat his boundaries like suggestions, and then I walked in here looking for an explanation because waiting felt too difficult.” I wiped angrily at my face. “I didn’t ask you to violate his privacy, but I still came searching for something he wasn’t ready to give me.”
“You came because you were worried about him,” Bliss said.
“I came because uncertainty makes me feel powerless, and I still don’t know what to do with that without demanding somebody make it stop.”
Aura took a step toward me. “You’re hurt and trying to turn this into proof that hope was stupid.”
“Hope was uninformed.”
“Hope isn’t a contract, Charm.”
“Neither is love. Ryan taught me that.”
The words silenced all three of us.
I looked at the women who’d held me through treatment, learned every warning sign, celebrated my boutique, and reminded me that recovery belonged to me. They loved me. I knew that with absolute certainty.
They had still betrayed me. Their reasons mattered, but they didn’t turn months of silence into honesty.
Bliss saw something change in my face. “What are you thinking?”
“That I need to leave.”
“Leave the room?”
“The castle.”
Her expression emptied. “No.”
Anger returned fast enough to burn through the grief. “You don’t get to tell me no.”
“This is my wedding.”
“I know.”
“You’re my maid of honor.”
