Page 78 of Billionaire's Promise
Damian nods. "We each had to go through some crazy shit before we could face our emotions, but once we did? Boy, was it all clear."
"Easy for you to say." I glower at him. "When you met your woman, was she already in a relationship with someone else?"
"Victoria was," Saint says slowly. "She’d just buried her husband, but he hadn’t been her husband, in the real sense of the word."
"Well, whatever it was between Edward and Ava, it was very real." I squeeze my fingers around my glass. "It’s why he asked me to watch out for her."
"He’s not here," Saint points out. "You are."
"What are you trying to say, man?" I frown. "I can’t betray Edward."
Except, I already have, and fuck, if I am going to let it happen again.
"All’s fair..." Saint bares his teeth. "Edward took off. You did the honorable thing; you came back to help someone in need. You were there for her when she needed you. If the two of you develop feelings for each other, well, that’s just the way it is."
"If only everything was that simple."
"It’s as simple or as complicated as you make it out to be." His lips twist. "A word of advice from me, ol’ chap?"
"Not that I care about what you’re going to say, but don’t let that stop you."
"I won’t." Saint’s smile widens. "After everything you’ve been through, you have a chance at being happy. It doesn’t often happen that you meet someone who brings out the best part of you—which in your case is especially a rarity, given those parts are particularly hard to find—" he smirks. "So, if I were you, I wouldn’t let the fact that she and Edward had a thing stop you."
"He left the Church for her," I snap.
"You faced your fears for her." He grips my shoulder. "You came back to a life that you hadn’t been able to face, made up with your friends, put her needs before yours. Even now, you’re thinking of her first. I’d say you have as much right as him to pursue her."
"What are you saying?"
"He means," Sinner drawls, "go after the fair maiden. Let her decide who she wants."
"Agreed." Damian nods.
Arpad jerks his chin.
Weston scowls. "You have to do what is right for you, man."
"And you?" I raise my tumbler in his direction, "What would you do if you were in my shoes?"
"Me?" He scratches his chin. "I’d go after what was mine." He looks me up and down, "Is she yours, Baron?"
I glare at him and he chuckles. "Thought so," He raises a shoulder, "The way I see it, you don’t have a choice, man. You’re going to have to follow your heart, and well, the rest is not in your hands anyway."
I stare into the dregs of the amber liquid in my glass. Are they right? Is it that simple? Am I over-complicating everything by my sense of right and wrong? My instincts are the only thing that kept me from getting killed in the army. It’s what had led me to staying away from my friends. The same instincts which had known when it was time to return when Edward called… Which now tells me, the only thing worth living for is her. That if I’m not with her, if I don’t use this opportunity that had been handed to me, I am a fool.
She wants me, she’s made it clear. She still has feelings for Edward… But hell, it’s true that I am here and he isn’t. I hadn’t meant to fall for her… I am not at fault here. He turned his back on her; he passed off his responsibility to me—and I intend to do what is in her best interests. Which is…allow her to see how it could be with me. The guys are right. Ultimately, it isn’t in my hands who she chooses. All I can do is allow her to make the decision. It isn’t mine to make. I can’t force her to choose by default. If I respect her, I should allow her to decide for herself. And I do. I trust her to make this choice for herself.
I turn to Saint, hold out my hand. "I hate saying it, but you’re right."
He smirks, bypasses my hand, to pull me into a hug. "I always am."
"What-bloody-ever." I thump his back, then step back, and glance around the room.
"There’s one other thing I could do with some help on."
"What’s that?" Arpad asks.
"The man Edward hurt," I brush past Saint, walk around the bar and step over the broken glass pieces to face the other men, "he hasn’t woken up yet, so there are no clues forthcoming as to his identity; though I swear I have seen him somewhere before." I shake my head, "I just can't place him, though."
