She loved him.
She loved him in a way that made her unable to bear the thought of leaving him. She loved him in a way that made it impossible for her to think that he might not feel the same way—that he might be anxiously waiting on Kosta to sell P &A so he could walk away from this.
Worse, to get back to the life he’d led before they’d met.
At that, a genuine wave of nausea exploded inside her, the idea of seeing him with another woman, of seeing him with some glamorous model or actress draped over his frame, was as painful to her as if she’d cut off a limb.
She loved him. The more she thought about it, the more it exploded in her brain, the realisation as clear and plain as day. Why hadn’t she seen it earlier? It was in every single moment they’d shared. She definitely hadn’t realised it at the time, but from the
first meal they’d shared—in that incredible restaurant tucked away in New York—something had been happening inside her. Something huge and powerful and all-important.
She had to tell him.
But what if he didn’t love her? What if he didn’t feel the same way?
Uncertainty shimmered on the edges of her brain because she knew from experience that there was every possibility of that.
Her own father hadn’t loved her.
And Clinton had walked away from her—had derided her and humiliated her.
What if Thanos did the same?
Oh, he’d never hurt her, she knew that, but what if he looked at her with sympathy swirling in the depths of his beautiful eyes and shook his head, explained that he simply didn’t love her? That she was living in a fantasy world to even hope he might?
Then she’d live.
Somehow.
She’d coped with heartbreak before. True, never like this had the potential to be, but it had been bad. Soul-destroying. Ugly. Unpleasant. And yet, she’d coped then; she’d cope again.
What she’d never make her peace with was pretending she didn’t feel the way she did—pretending she didn’t feel as though her heart were going to burst from inside her chest, to explode all the way through her.
She could live with loss.
But never, ever with not knowing.
* * *
‘Thanos. Are you awake?’
He flung an arm over his eyes, squinting into the complete blackness of their bedroom. When had it become ‘theirs’? He didn’t even frown as the word slipped through his mind.
It was just for now. He could deal with that.
‘No.’
She made an impatient noise and then Alice’s fingers were prodding him in the shoulder. ‘I’m serious. I need to speak to you.’
He wanted to go back to sleep. He’d never needed much—a few hours a night—but those few hours he generally liked to sleep deeply and undisturbed. Still, there was something in Alice’s tone that penetrated his fog, so he sat up, his eyes scanning her face.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No. Yes.’ She let out a tremulous laugh. ‘I don’t know.’
His expression shifted, worry slipped inside him. ‘What is it, agape?’
The column of her throat shifted visibly as she swallowed. ‘I... I couldn’t sleep.’