Page 170 of Never Fall for an Angel

“You know, staring at that ring isn’t going to make it go away.”

Paulina steps up on the porch, taking the seat beside me. I hadn’t even realized I was holding Christian’s ring until she said something. Looking down at it, my stomach bottoms out, and tears sting in the backs of my eyes.

I shove it back under my shirt. “Have you heard anything?” I know the answer, by now I ask every day. I can’t help myself, though. I just need to know for sure.

Paulina grimaces, looking out over the forest beyond.

“Didn’t think so.”

“This is how this life is,” she says gently. “You have to understand that there are things they will miss. Birthdays, anniversaries. There will be nights where you don’t hear from them.”

Or weeks . . .

“Except I didn’t get a choice on if I wanted this life or not.”

“Do any of us?”

“Did anyone ever trick you into marrying them?” I counter.

“Touché.”

“They’ll be missing Founder’s Day.”

“And I’m telling you, whatever they’re doing has to be extremely important for them to miss that.”

I shake my head, and a rogue tear slips down my cheek. Angrily, I scrub it away.

“Is it bad that I miss him?” I whisper like he may be hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike.

Truthfully, I’m angry. I’m angry with him for leaving me here. I’m angry at Talia for merely existing. Most of all, I’m angry with myself for missing him.

God, do I miss him.

The rippling energy when we’re in the room together. The brush of his fingers on my lower back when we’re cooking dinnertogether. The scent of his skin clinging to me after he touches me.

I love him, and I hate him. What kind of sense does that make?

Paulina’s silent for a moment, thinking. “No. It’s okay to love them and be angry with them for their actions. We are human, after all.”

I draw my legs up to my chest, leaning my chin on my knee.

“Who tricks someone into marrying then? That’s insane.”

“I don’t disagree. Look at the alternative, though. Being held to a contract to marry someone who would hurt you. Rape you.”

“Don’t make excuses for him.”

“I’m not. I’m just giving you a different view of the situation. Tell me this, though,” she pauses, chocolate eyes meeting mine. “If he’d asked, got down on his knee, and done it the right way . . . would it have changed the outcome?”

Fuck.

Silence hums in the air, and my voice gets caught in my throat.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I stammer, my cheeks hot despite the chill in the air.

I knowexactlywhat she means, but I don’t want to acknowledge it.

She chuckles, shaking her head.

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