Page 31 of A Convenient Ring to Claim Her

After a pause while he seemed to absorb what she’d said, he dismissed it. “Please don’t start sipping whatever it is Eden’s drunk on. I expect more from you. You don’t believe in love any more than I do.”

“I don’t believe in marriage,” she contradicted. “Love is real.”

“How can you not believe in marriage? Marriage is real. Marriage is something Eden is now stuck in. Love is an illusion. It’s pheromones. It’s something a woman tells herself has happened to her when she finds herself pregnant and is scared out of her wits to tell her parents. I’m talking about my mother,” he clarified shortly.

“You don’t think your mother loves you?”

“We’re not talking about that kind of caring, are we? My mother said she loved me, but I still had to leave with my father, so it’s not some all-powerful force. Love is just a word, one that looks pretty on greeting cards. It has about as much substance as a piece of painted cardboard.”

“Wow. I knew you were cynical, but okay.” At least she knew where she stood—in the opening of an icy, bottomless cavern.

He only sipped his drink.

“Regardless of what you believe about the true nature of their feelings, they’re married. You’ll have to accept that, same as I have,” she said stonily.

His eyes narrowed. “If you believed she was in love with him all that time, why didn’t you put a stop to her trying to marry Hunter?”

“First of all, she was pretty adamant about marrying Hunter. And honestly? I didn’t see a path for her and Remy. Not given how you felt about him. Plus, I knew if she married Hunter...” She bit her lip, but she wanted it off her conscience. “This doesn’t make me look very good,” she acknowledged glumly. “I knew if she was married to Hunter, she would still need me. Which I know is selfish,” she hurried to add. “But she’s kind of all I’ve got. I’m happy for her, though. I genuinely am.”

She chewed on a cheese ball, feeling small as she awaited his judgment of her petty, needy heart.

“I have the same sense that he’s trying to take things that are mine,” he admitted, lip curled in self-deprecation.

“Hmph.” There was no real humor in her snort. “I sometimes think you and I have all the wrong things in common. We’re possessive. Pigheaded.”

“Broken.”

“What?” She took that like a knife to the stomach and sat back to absorb it.

“You said it first,” he muttered, working his thumb in the dew on the glass he loosely clutched.

“When?”

“When they brought you back to your room last night.”

“You said I didn’t say anything stupid!”

“It wasn’t stupid. It was correct.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” She set down her fork and tried to hide behind her one hand.

“I know you were stoned off your face, Quinn. I didn’t take it to heart.”

“What exactly did I say?”

He sighed. “Nothing incriminating. You were glad that I was still there and wanted to hug me, but you were upset that your arm wouldn’t work. You thought it was broken and said, ‘Why are we both so broken?’ I had just ended my call with Eden and was wondering the same thing.”

What she’d said was awful enough, but she made herself ask, “Did I say anything else?”

“Why? What are you afraid you said?”

“Nothing.” She picked up her fork and shoved another tortellini in her mouth.

“Eden is right,” he muttered, looking out to the water. “You should expect more from me. We should expect more from each other.”

“Like what?” A panicked sensation fluttered into her chest.

“I don’t know.” Only the tic in his cheek suggested this was a more uncomfortable conversation than he was letting on. “But I was serious when I left Toronto, that we need to make a decision.”

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