Page 113 of Friends Who Fake It

The words were weakened by tears she could no longer hold at bay. “It wasn’t… something I thought about. They were disconnected thoughts. My anger, and my need to do what was best for everyone. But how could I forgive you for making me fall in love with you and then learning you were getting married? It was all a game to you.” She sobbed. “I should never have kept Josh from you and your parents. I was… wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it.” He spoke with alarm, then scraped his own chair back, standing and crossing the room, pulling her into his arms. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, and he held her tight to his chest. “It was a mistake,” he said gruffly.

Her sobbing got louder.

He made a noise of frustration and then his fingertips caught her chin, tilting it so that her face was angled towards his, and he kissed her. He kissed her even when tears were rolling into her mouth, and he lifted her, holding her cradled to his chest and carrying her through the house, up the stairs, as though she weighed little more than a feather.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” he said, as he laid her onto the bed without breaking their kiss. He kept his body on hers, the weight of him a pleasure she hadn’t known she needed.

He undressed her gently, and for the first time, when they came together, he whispered sweet Spanish words in her ear and she stopped sobbing, but the guilt and the grief stayed lodged in her heart.

She suspected it always would.

ChapterThirteen

ANEW PATTERN EMERGED. A dangerous new pattern. Xavier had woken the day after her sobbing confession with a heavy stone of guilt in his gut. He’d found it hard to look at her, hard to talk to her, and she’d obviously been relieved by that distance.

She’d retreated from him even further, if that were possible.

He’d watched her shadow herself from him, closing herself off from what they’d shared that night, and he’d been glad.

Glad that he didn’t have to analyse what her tearful admission had done to his determination and resolve. Glad he didn’t have to face the fact that he was softening towards her.

He didn’twantto soften towards her. Because despite her remorse, she’d still robbed him of something too valuable to repair.

Every day he spent with Joshua made him wonder at the years that had come before – made him wonder about his life as a baby, his habits, his experiences. Having missed that would torment him all his life – and now he knew it was tormenting Elizabeth as well. Hadn’t he wanted that?

Perhaps, at one time. But the obvious state of despair she’d slipped into gave him absolutely no satisfaction.

Three days before the wedding, Elizabeth came to Xavier in his office.

“I’m going shopping,” she murmured, her eyes barely meeting him, as always. “For a wedding dress,” she added for good measure.

A sharp pain in the region of his frontal lobe spiked out of nowhere. He pressed his fingertips to it, hoping it wouldn’t turn into an all-day migraine. They were the last hangover from his accidents. Sudden, sharp sensations of pain that almost robbed him of breath and often took days to recover fully from.

“You haven’t got a wedding dress yet?” He asked, covering the grimace of pain that flashed on his face.

“I haven’t had a chance,” she said, and swallowed, because it wasn’t really true. She simply hadn’t been able to face the reality of shopping for a dress for this farce of a wedding.

“Of course. Shall I come with you?”

“That doesn’t seem appropriate,” she demurred. “Besides, Nell has offered.”

“Your sister is in town?”

“She flew back in last night,” Ellie confirmed. “For an appointment, and then she’ll stay on for our wedding. I’m meeting her for lunch so I thought we’d grab something afterwards.”

“You make it sound like you are picking out a new brand of toothpaste,” he said with a tilt of his lips; renewed pain seared his brain. When he spoke, his voice had an edge of pain to it. “Isn’t a wedding dress meant to be the most important purchase a woman can make?”

She paled visibly. “This is hardly a dream wedding, for either of us,” she clipped. “I’ll be happy if I find something even remotely bridal.”

His head pain sharpened. “Fine,” he said, and then, a thought occurred to him. Swearing inwardly at his lack of forethought, he grabbed out his wallet and placed a credit card on the table. “This is for you. I arranged it a week ago.”

She stared at the black card with her name in shiny silver letters. Only not her name – it read: Elizabeth Salbatore.

“How did you do that?” She asked, finally looking at him properly.

It had been easy for a man like Xavier Salbatore. He had billions of pounds invested with his bank, and used them exclusively for his European projects. A line of credit in his wife’s name with himself as guarantor had been no issue at all.

---