Page 162 of Love Arranged
I never thought I’d enjoy buying something more than cars, but seeing Lily decked out in the clothes and jewelry I have bought her has me changing my mind. There is something incredibly satisfying about being able to provide for her, and screw Julian for insinuating that I couldn’t.
I’m so distracted by her outfit, I don’t notice her walking over to me with pinched brows.
“What’s that look for?” I ask.
She takes a seat on my lap and drapes her legs across my thighs before she starts to undo the knot of my tie. “It’s crooked.”
“I must’ve messed with it.”
“Nervous habit?”
I stay quiet.
She pauses her task. “Are you okay?”
Not really, but I can’t admit that to her, can I? She’s counting on me to pull out a win for the sake of Rose & Thorn, so I need to stay strong.
Or at leastappearthat way.
“Lorenzo?” she follows up when I don’t respond.
“I’m fine,” I say, my hand flexing as I resist the urge to touch my father’s die.
“Then why can’t you look at me?”
Because then you’ll remind me of everything I stand to lose.
I didn’t want to think of what it would look like to lose theelection, but this week I could no longer ignore the hypothetical what-if scenarios.
What if my parents’ murderer became the mayor?
What if I had to live in a town where I had to see his face all the time?
What if I had to sit back and watch Lily lose her shop because I couldn’t beat the person who destroyed my family?
She nearly chokes me with how hard she pulls on the tie, and I wheeze.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
She hits me with a look of concern. “Didn’t you hear me speaking to you?”
“No,” I confess.
I’m quick to glance away, but she grips my chin and forces me to look at her again. “Want to talk about what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Not really.”
“I assumed as much.” She reaches inside her purse and pulls out the other Moirai die. “I didn’t come here to talk anyway.”
God, I love her for always knowing what I need.
Shit.
Love?
I mean, I’ve felt it during our time together, but I’ve never admitted it freely, not even to myself.
“What’s that look for?” she asks, her gaze darting to my mouth.
