Page 70 of Forbidden Vows

“Seraphina left yesterday. How are you holding up?”

“Not bad! I’ll see her in a few days. We’re still flying out on Thursday, right? So we can be rested for the wedding?”

“Right.”

“And then we’ll be roomies! I did tell you she asked me to move in, right?”

“Yes.” A couple of times.

And each one was like a dagger in my heart.

I don’t know if I can let her go.

“I…um…” I run a hand over the back of my neck. I had no idea letting her go would be this hard. “I talked to the guys, and they’re going to put your wardrobe under the jet. So, you’ll have everything with you as soon as we land.”

“Gosh, I don’t know if all those clothes will fit in my tiny closet. Her second bedroom is like a shoebox.” She glances around, looking wistful. “Nothing like this beautiful place.”

“You could stay?”

She laughs, thinking I’m joking. I’m not. “I need to go back,” she says. “Whether I get the first-grade position or not, I’ll move to a new classroom. I need to get prepared.”

Change the subject. “Tell me about Lydia’s wedding. What can I expect?”

“Lydia wanted something basic. She’s having a simple church service.” She looks down, suddenly shy. “Actually, um…she’s getting married at the same church your brother got married in. That will be…nice.”

“Our church.”

“Not our church, Blaze. The church.”

I press my hand into the wall above her head, surrounding her in the cocoon of my body. “It’s the one we had sex in the back of, though. That makes it ours.”

“You’re funny.” She shrinks away, ducking under my arm to stand a few feet from me. I’ve sensed she’s been pulling away the closer we get to returning to the city. “Um, but that does bring up something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Hope sparks in my chest. Could this be the moment we put our doubts aside and she gives in to her feelings?

“As far as sex, I think we should cool it,” she says. My hope comes crashing down. She tries to give me a sweet smile, but it doesn’t reach her gaze. “I don’t want either of us getting hurt.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t.

“Is that okay?” she asks, looking at me with genuine concern.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” I say quickly. “Tell me about the reception. Is Lydia having one?”

“Cake, champagne, and dancing. Then a bubble sendoff, and then, it’s over.”

Her eyes meet mine.

It’s over.

Her words are heavy, holding so much more meaning than the end of a wedding reception.

She’s set her date. She’s been clear with me from the beginning. This wedding will be the end of us.

When I get on the jet and fly back to Italy, I will never go to the city again. I can’t because I’ll want to see her if I do.

And if I ever have to see her with someone else…I don’t think I can bear the pain.

We stand there, an awkward silence between us, tension sharp and tight pulling between us.

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