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Tears sprang to my eyes. My wedding day. It had been the first day Nico and I had kissed. The first day we’d begun to let our walls down.

Had it all been an act?

But why would he start letting his walls down then after we were married? He’d already gotten what he wanted. Why would he have been more respectful and open on our honeymoon when he hadn’t needed to?

He seduced information out of you. He made you believe he wanted a long vacation because he wanted to be with you.

The reminder punched me in the chest, and I wanted to storm out all over again.

But Nova’s message to not let emotions make my decision held me rooted to the bed. Taking another deep breath, I closed my eyes and pushed past the fog of hurt to remember it all. I remembered all the moments in between. I remembered the easy laughter. I remembered playing cards one night with no talk of business or family—we just laughed and talked about music.

I remembered how he planned on giving me an opportunity to prove myself at his company. Had he done it from guilt? Or had he really thought I could do it?

That question I could answer with certainty. Nico talked about all he’d done to build his business, and he wouldn’t let guilt put him in a position to where he could look bad in front of a client. If he hadn’t thought I was capable of performing well, he wouldn’t let me.

The nugget of truth blossomed, and I wondered if I set down the bag of emotions I’d clung so tightly to, then maybe I’d find more.

My mind spun round and round.

Did he, or didn’t he? Truth or lie? Really care, or all an act?

Fisting the sheets, I pinched my eyes shut and shook my head, making it all come to a screeching halt. I could do this all day with only a minimal conversation heard in anger.

Maybe I took the first hesitant step and listened.

My phone dinged with another message.

Nova: It’s okay to give him a second chance. If he lies again, we all know Raelynn will beat the shit out of him.

Nova: And I will too.I laughed, the feeling euphoric and foreign. A few weak laughs had escaped while I’d stayed with Raelynn, but they all felt forced and weighed down. This one was soft but slid through my limbs, infusing a tingle of hope that maybe I’d come out on the other side okay. I just didn’t know what that other side looked like and if Nico was there with me.

And I never would, sitting on this bed.

With the reminder that I could leave at any time, that listening to him didn’t mean I had to forgive him, I stood. I pulled on a sundress I’d stowed away in the extra closet and headed out.

I rounded the corner to the living room to find him at the kitchen table with his computer and a stack of papers.

When he finally noticed my presence, I was halfway across the living room, and he watched silently. Setting his glasses aside, he closed his laptop and never once looked away, drinking me in like he’d never get a chance to see me again.

Was that the look of a man who only saw me for a revenge he’d already gotten?

“There’s coffee if you want some,” he finally said once I reached the kitchen.

His voice sounded as rough as he looked—not the sexy morning voice that had been my favorite part of waking up. No, this roughened voice sounded exhausted to its bones. This voice sounded heavy, scraping across his vocal cords like an overweight box against concrete.

“When we got back, I made sure to order the pumpkin spice creamer you liked in Italy. In case you came back,” he added hesitantly.

So simple, yet so sweet. Those were the ways that Nico broke me down on our honeymoon. It hadn’t been the sexual seduction. It had been the simple and sweet gestures that he did because he knew I liked them. Not from me telling him I liked them, but because he saw me. He didn’t have to buy me shot glasses because he knew I collected them to get his revenge. He didn’t have to make my bacon extra crispy even though he liked it soft. He didn’t have to get pumpkin creamer special delivered when I’d given no indication I would come back.

Why would he care if he already had what he wanted?

Forcing myself to move, despite wanting to stare at him all morning, I went to get a cup of coffee. I swiped at the pools of moisture building in my eyes when I grabbed the creamer.

So sweet and so simple, yet so impactful.

When I sat down, he slid two stacks of papers face down across the table, keeping his longer fingers sprawled on top of them. I took in his tan skin against the stark paper and wondered if I would ever feel them again. I clutched the warm mug to hold back from stealing another feel just in case I never got to.


Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance