Page 172 of Love Arranged
I can’t give her everything she wants, but that won’t prevent me from giving her my all until the very end.
I follow Lily to her house. With her tracking bracelet stuffed inside my pocket, I can’t resist the compulsion to make sure she makes it home safely.
I’m not slick about my intention either, so I anticipate her glaring in my direction when I park by the curb. What Idon’t expect is her stomping over to my car and pointing at the window until I roll it down.
“Quit following me around.”
“I would if I could.” Exhaustion bleeds into my voice.
Her eyes narrow. “What game are you playing?”
“I wasn’t aware I was playing one.”
She growls with frustration. “Go home.”
“I will once you get inside.” I lean back in the driver’s seat.
“You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?” I bite down on my tongue.
“Act like you care.”
“Good thing I’m not acting, then, am I?”
“How can I tell? Our entire relationship has been a lie.”
I breathe, hoping to expel some of my frustration through my mouth and failing after one attempt.
I’m too annoyed by her accusation to try again, so I pull out the bracelet from my pocket to show her who the real liar is here, and spoiler, it’s notme.
Lily backs away. “I told you I don’t want it.”
I ignore her and open the app on my phone.
Her brows rise, right before they scrunch with confusion. “Is that…”
“A top-of-the-line model.”
She covers her mouth with her palm.
“Tell me something,amore mio. Am I acting now?”
She shakes her head, anguish etched into the fine lines by her eyes and mouth. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because let this be the last time you accuse me of lying.” I hold the bracelet out for her to grab. “Now, do you want meto follow you around everywhere, or will you be a good fiancée and wear my gift?”
She stares at the bracelet like it might transform into a venomous snake.
“You need professional help, Lorenzo.” She stares at me, her eyes a window to her crushed soul.
The only person I hate more than Trevor Ludlow right now is myself, because I’m the one who is making her miserable.
As much as I hate it, I won’t make her a promise I can’t keep either, so I’m put in an impossible situation.
“I’m only doing this because I don’t want to see you more than I have to.” Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the bracelet. She tries to put it on herself, but I intervene, allowing myself to seek comfort in her touch.
I pretend to struggle with the clasp to give myself more time. “Okay.”
