Текст книги "Pretend It's Love "
Автор книги: Stefanie London
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
Of all the things you should be worried about with this situation…it’s not that.
“It will, but that’s what we have to work with now.” He finished making his coffee and carried it to the kitchen bench.
She nodded, her fingertip tracing the rim of her cup. Silence settled over them; there wasn’t much more to say on the issue of their sudden “engagement.” Libby had done the right thing by coming to him straightaway instead of letting him find out by the inevitable phone call that would come in the morning.
“Anyway, I’ve got bigger things to focus on,” he said.
“Like what?” Libby’s face was a mask of relief at the change of topic.
“I’ve been working on the business plan. You’re right, I do need to take it seriously…even if I think all the detail is stupid.”
She grinned. “I’m glad you came to that conclusion all by yourself.”
“I’m sick of not going for things that I want.” He nodded, as if convincing himself. “I want this, I know it’s a good idea, and it will bring in more money for First. I’m the best person to do it since I’m way more charming than Des and Noah.”
Feelings warred within him: pride, fear, hope, and excitement. All battling for control. He had to channel them into something before he blurted out that he had feelings for her. That their “relationship” had changed him already…for the better.
“You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for,” she said, her face sincere for a moment before she realized what she’d said. “But you’re not smarter than me.”
“Maybe not when it comes to business.” He took the cup from her hands and set it down on the bench. “But I’m smarter when it comes to other things.”
“Like what?” she whispered.
“Sex.”
“That’s all you want me for, isn’t it?” She laughed as if the statement was a joke, but he caught the uncertain flicker in her eyes.
He never wanted her to feel like that. Sure, he couldn’t give her anything more…but it wasn’t all she was worth. Not by a long shot.
He brushed her hair over one bare shoulder, trailing his fingers along her skin. His blood buzzed at the sharp intake of her breath, sending all the pressure rushing south. Goosebumps rippled across her skin where his fingers had been, like proof of his touch.
“You inspire me, Libby,” he said, sliding his hand up her neck to cup the back of her head.
“I do?” She tilted her face up to his, her hazel eyes bright and wide.
“You’re so ambitious and driven.” He pressed his lips to her jaw. “You don’t take any shit, but you’ve got a good heart.”
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.” She laughed, narrowing her eyes at him in mock scrutiny. “You’re trying to get me into bed again, aren’t you?”
“We don’t have to make it to the bed.” He hoisted her up and carried her to the dining table.
“You know that girl Cassie came here for you.” The words slipped out as he set her down.
“What?” He shook his head.
“She moved to Australia for you.”
Paul raked a hand through his hair and rubbed the nape of his neck. “No, she didn’t. She’s been sick of London for a while, and I said she should come here because the weather is nice.”
“How long after you said that did she move?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A month.”
“Had you ever said it before?”
“Well…” He frowned, his eyes dropping to the ground as he tried to recall. “No.”
“So she came here as soon as you said she should.”
“You’re making something out of nothing. We didn’t have a relationship or anything, we were just backpacking and barhopping. It wasn’t serious.”
“I think she wanted it to be.”
“How do you know that?”
Cassie had known from the start that he was on the rebound from Sadie when they’d met. He’d taken the money he’d saved up for her ring and spent it on three months of travel and denial. Cassie was a temporary thing, a way to drown his sorrows, and he’d been nothing but honest about that.
“I saw the way she looked at you, Paul. She came here for you, and you’re absolutely clueless.” Libby swung her legs back and forth. “Did you promise her the world?”
“To get her into bed? No, she knew exactly what she was getting into.” How could Libby think he’d lie just to sleep with someone? “It’s not my fault if she wants more.”
“Well, whether or not you were up-front with her, she has feelings for you.” Libby swallowed and shrugged, her face neutral. “Maybe you should go and talk to her after we ‘break up’.”
“I’m not interested in Cassie…not like that. Not anymore. She’s just a friend.” He paused for a moment, watching the way her eyes flicked over his face as if she was looking for something. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not!” She went to jump down from the table but he pinned her there with a hand on either side of her thighs.
“You’re totally jealous.” He laughed and Libby’s face flamed as red as her hair.
“You’re not God’s gift to women, you know,” she grumbled. “But honestly, your ego is fascinating. I’ve never seen anything so big before.”
“You know, that’s not the first time someone has said that to me.” He grinned and she swatted at him, narrowly missing his cheek.
“I stuck up for you, and this is the thanks I get?”
“Yep.” His hands ran along her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress. “You wouldn’t like it if I made it easy for you.”
“Bullshit. I would very much enjoy life if you made it easier for me.”
“You have many great skills, Tiger. But lying isn’t one of them.”
She locked her hands down over his, preventing him from going higher. “Many great skills, you say. Care to elaborate?”
“You’ve got a talented mouth.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You know, since you speak so eloquently,” he said. “And beautiful hands.”
“Don’t feed me all that crap you’ve used on other girls.” She brushed his hands away. “I’m different, and I won’t fall for it.”
Didn’t he know it? Libby was so far from his realm of experience that he may as well be starting from scratch. But that’s what she did to him. She’d broken down all his long-held beliefs—that he was happy taking the easy road through life, that he didn’t want to be with anyone for more than a night—and systematically made him question the existence he’d created for himself.
“I know you’re different.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s why you’re still here.”
She bit down on her lip and looked away. “You better not get attached to me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m not going to change my mind on the relationship thing,” she said, but her voice wavered ever so slightly. “I’m not interested in being tied to someone until we both hate each other. It’s better to enjoy the good bits while they last and move on before it hurts too much. That’s why I pointed out the thing about Cassie…you know, so you can talk to her after we break up.”
“Right.” He nodded, unsure what to do with the barrier she was desperately trying to put between them.
At one point he’d have been thrilled for a woman to keep things casual, but being with Libby had started to change him. He wanted more out of life than to cruise through without being committed to anyone or anything. He deserved more…she’d made him see that.
He didn’t have to be the man his family thought he was. He would change, not to prove they were wrong but to prove he’d been wrong.
“I like you a lot, Paul.” She touched his face, the gentle pressure of her fingertips zinging through him like bolts of electricity. “But I can’t feel anything more than that. I won’t let myself.”
“You don’t need to reassure me.” He brought his hands back to her legs and parted them so he could stand closer to her.
The pressure of her thighs against his hips sent delicious heat through him. He ached for her, body and soul. But he’d only allow himself to fulfill one of those needs. He wouldn’t ever tell her how he felt knowing she would walk away.
He wasn’t going to have his heart broken again.
Chapter Twelve
The closer Gracie and Des’s wedding drew, the heavier the pit in Libby’s stomach. What was supposed to be a simple solution to a business problem had turned into a complicated personal conundrum. So much for leaving sex and emotion out of it. She’d failed spectacularly at the first one and was slipping down a steep ravine into the second.
The suitcase on her bed gaped at her like a big hungry mouth. She’d started packing half an hour ago, yet not a single item of clothing had made it into her luggage. The wedding was tomorrow; she had to pull herself together.
Pick a dress, match the shoes, find a pair of earrings. It’s not that hard.
Libby glared at the two dresses that hung on the doors of her antique armoire. Decision paralysis was so not her thing, yet she couldn’t seem to make a choice. Picking the dress meant packing her things, which meant getting in her car and driving all the way to the Yarra Valley…and seeing Paul.
Her stomach churned. Since her big confession she’d been in a spin, and her mind refused to concentrate. Her ambition had deserted her, and she had the mental acuity of a stuffed llama. Even her motor skills were off. She’d shattered a wineglass on the kitchen faucet and dropped a fresh vase of flowers all over the carpet in her office.
Not exactly the picture of a put-together businesswoman.
“Come on,” she muttered to herself as she studied the dresses. “Just do it.”
The first one was sexy, backless, and black; it wasn’t her usual style but she knew Paul would love it. The second was a bold pink and yellow 50s-style full-skirted number, definitely in her comfort zone.
She took a deep breath and snatched the black dress from her armoire, folding it in tissue and packing it before she could change her mind. She matched a pair of nude heels and a set of vintage enamel jewelry quickly, doing her hardest not to think about Paul.
Talk about a lesson in futility. Trying not to think about Paul was like trying not to blink…or breathe.
No matter how many times she mentioned the looming deadline of their relationship—and noticed how Paul seized up—she couldn’t force reality to sink in. Would it be so bad to let things linger on and see if what they had extended beyond the wedding?
The slam of a car door outside caught her attention, and a moment later the doorbell rang. As soon as Libby stepped into the hallway she could see the shiny red paint on her father’s convertible through the front window. Perfect. A heaping of fatherly guilt was exactly what she needed right now—not.
She opened the door but blocked the entrance. “Dad.”
“Is that thug boyfriend of yours here to kick me out this time?” her father drawled.
Libby pursed her lips and stood rooted to the ground. “No.”
“Do I need to ask for an invitation inside my own property?”
Ah, that old chestnut. The quicker Libby Gal Cocktails took off the sooner she could take that important step toward independence, getting out from under her father’s thumb. She held the door open and waited for him to enter without saying the words, since it was clear he wasn’t going to leave quietly.
“What do you want? I’m going away for the weekend, and I need to leave soon.” She stood in the entrance and pressed her fingers to her temples.
“You used to speak to me as though I were the most important person in the world,” her father said, looking—for possibly the first time ever—regretful. “What changed?”
“Maybe it’s because I realized I wasn’t the most important person in your world.” She swallowed, blinking as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “And that I never would be.”
“That hurts, Libby.” He shook his head. “Don’t you see I want what’s best for you?”
“How do you know what’s best for me? I wonder at times if you know anything about me.”
The muscle in his neck corded. “How can you say that?”
“What’s my favorite food?” Her voice cracked and she cursed herself internally. “Or my favorite color?”
“Pink?” He shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“My favorite color is green, Dad. It always has been.” She let out a sigh. “It matters because sometimes I think you wish I’d never been born.”
The words sucked the life out of the room. Admitting her longest-held, most shameful fear aloud made the world feel colorless.
Her father blinked, genuine shock registering on his face. He brushed a hand through his hair, the mostly gray strands slipping through his fingers and springing back into place. He’d been a redhead, too, many moons ago. As a young girl she’d loved that they shared such a distinctive feature, like it was proof that she was his daughter. Proof her young heart had desperately needed when he acted as though she meant nothing.
“You know that your mother and I weren’t planning to have children, but that doesn’t mean I regret it.”
“Don’t you? I can’t remember a time when you and Mum didn’t fight or say horrible things to each other when you thought I couldn’t hear.”
His thick brows wrinkled. “Your mother and I should never have gotten married. We did it to provide for you, but I fear it only made your childhood harder.”
“But then you both left, and you got remarried.” The words tumbled like an avalanche. “You moved on…from me.”
“I never moved on from you, and neither did your mother.”
Libby’s head pounded, the pain from her lonely childhood coursing through her body as fresh as it was when she found out her mother was having another child. A child who would have the happy life and the happy parents she’d been denied.
“Yes, you did. You moved away and I had to live with mum and her new husband. Then she sent me to you when she got pregnant, like I was being replaced. Instead of being my dad you sent me away as well!”
“Boarding school was a good option for you. I knew it would set you up for success. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you around.” He shook his head as though she was talking gibberish. “You had so much potential, I wanted you to harness it. I wanted you to do great things.”
“And to reach my potential I have to go back to med school?”
Silence. “What’s the point of making flavored alcohol?”
Libby blinked. No one had ever asked her that before. The cold creep of doubt coiled in the pit of her stomach, winding its way up and over her heart.
“My product is fun, it’s girlie. It celebrates women.”
“By getting them drunk on cheap toxic cordials?”
She reeled as if he’d slapped her across the face.
“If you finished med school you could save people’s lives, Libby. Isn’t that a more worthy dream to have?”
She knew that her business was so much more than her father would ever see. She’d already drawn up plans to use her business plan to help other women realize their dream of working for themselves, of being financially independent. Her chest squeezed.
How could she ever show other women how to be independent when she lived in her father’s house and had a fake boyfriend? In her desperation to succeed she’d lost sight of why she wanted to run her own business in the first place.
“I understand I’m living in your house, and I’m grateful for having a roof over my head. But that doesn’t mean you get to control me or choose my fate.” She squared her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath. “Your dream is not my dream. I hope one day you can accept that.”
It shouldn’t get to her—she’d seen him belittle her mother a thousand times before—but it hurt as much as if he’d kicked her to the ground. She had no hope of pleasing him, not now. Not ever.
Which was precisely the reason she’d never put herself in that position again. It was easy to avoid being hurt if she did her own thing, if she lived life for herself. Alone.
People couldn’t hurt you if you kept them at a distance.
Paul carried box after box out to the car; who knew there could be so much “stuff” to take to a wedding. Everything had been delivered to his parents’ house, and he was doing his brotherly duty to help get it all to the vineyard where the wedding would be held. Bonbonnière, place cards, table decorations, and God only knew what else.
He was sure, despite his limited experience, that the key to a happy marriage wasn’t finding the perfect font for the seating lists.
“You look very deep in thought.” His mother appeared beside him holding a small clear box with the wedding cake topper. She leaned in to his boot and tucked it into a carton containing other random bits and pieces.
“I was wondering if all weddings require three cars full of material items. I would have thought the bride and groom would be enough.” He packed the last box in and checked to make sure everything was secure. The last thing he needed was to break two hundred tiny bottles of vodka.
“It’s easy to get caught up in the details,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Our wedding cake had over a hundred individual flowers made out of icing. It looked so beautiful.”
“Yes, but did it taste good?”
“Who knows? I was so nervous I didn’t eat a thing all night. I almost fainted after we got back to the hotel because I was so hungry.”
“What a waste.”
She patted his arm and shook her head. “It wasn’t a waste. I wouldn’t change a thing if I had to do it over again.”
She hovered, her hands fidgeting with the fine gold chain at her neck. The cross dangling from it glinted in the afternoon light, winking at him as if it had a secret. That could only mean one thing. She had something important to say.
“Spit it out, Ma.”
“I’m really glad you and Libby are getting engaged.” Her eyes glimmered, her fingers fluttering at her neck. “It makes me so happy to see my boys finding love.”
Shit. He’d been avoiding this conversation with her ever since Libby had confessed her little white lie…well, her small lie amongst a much bigger one.
“She wasn’t supposed to say anything—it’s not official yet.” He thrust his fingers through his hair and tried to come up with a way to get out of talking to his mother about it. “Anyway, this is Des and Gracie’s weekend. I don’t want to steal their thunder.”
“You’re not. Des is so happy for you.”
He sighed. “You told him? I thought Libby said you’d promised to keep it a secret.”
Her lips pulled up into a sheepish smile. “It’s just one person.”
“So you didn’t tell Dad then? Or Zia Marcella?” He raised a brow. “Or Mrs. Lawson from down the street?”
“I didn’t tell Mrs. Lawson,” she admitted. “But yes, I told your father and Zia Marcella. I can’t help it, I’m so excited.”
“You promised Libby and then you went against your word.”
“Oh, do you think she’ll be mad?” His mother looked genuinely stricken. “I thought it wouldn’t matter if you were planning it already.”
It wouldn’t, if they were in a real relationship or had any intention of ever getting married. But they’d be splitting up in a few days’ time…just as soon as the wedding was over and his business idea had come to fruition.
“She won’t be mad.” He couldn’t make his mother feel guilty when he was the one lying and fooling everyone.
“Good. Because I have a gift for her.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
A cold trickle of fear ran down his spine. “What is that?”
She opened the box and amongst the cushy interior sat a band of diamonds. Each stone was shaped like a double-ended teardrop, the gaps dotted with tiny red rubies, making the ring look more like a wreath than a typical wedding ring.
“This belonged to my great grandmother,” she said, tracing a finger over it. “I’ve been saving it for when you found the right girl.”
“You never showed me this when I was with Sadie.” The words stuck in his throat.
“You never said you were going to marry her.”
“Technically I haven’t asked Libby yet, either.” At least there was one thing he could say without lying. “And why didn’t you give it to Des?”
“I know it probably seems like I’m hard on you all the time, but I was like you when I was younger.” His mother wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and your nonno was always frustrated with me because I wanted to explore and see the world. He just wanted me to settle down.”
“I can’t imagine it.”
She laughed. “I’m hard on you because I know you have greatness in you, Paul. But, like me, you need a good shove sometimes.”
“You’re too little to push me around.” He teased her to make light of the emotion battling inside him. His mother had never given him any indication that she understood him on such a deep level, let alone that she had been the same way herself.
“Sometimes it takes the right person to help us see our potential. I think Libby is that person for you…that’s why I want you to give her the family ring.”
His chest seized, guilt crushing down on him like a boulder. It was official; he’d easily take the title of worst son in the world. Jesus, why had he been so stupid to lie to his whole family?
“Ask her, Paolo. Make it official. Girls like that don’t come along every day.”
Didn’t he know it? But wondering about what could be was pointless when he’d been down this road before. If he was stupid enough to think a relationship might work he’d only have egg on his face later. Libby would move onward and upward, while he struggled to keep up until eventually one of them decided there was too much distance between them.
“I have to wait…for the right time.”
“It’s now. Promise me you won’t let this go to waste.”
He drew a long deep breath. “Ma…”
“She’s not Sadie, so if that’s what you’re worried about—”
“It’s not.”
“Then take the plunge. Don’t be afraid.”
Blood rushed in his ears, his body rebelling against her words. But what could he do? He couldn’t blow his cover now. Not only would it make him look like a fool in front of his family but it would take away from Des and Gracie…they didn’t deserve to have a shadow hang over their wedding because he was such a fuckup.
“Okay.”
“I want you to know how proud I am of you.” She pressed the velvet box into his hands. “Des told me about the idea you had for the cocktail classes at the bar. It sounds like a great idea.”
“He did?” Paul turned the ring box over in his hand. He hadn’t taken the business plan to Des yet, since there were a few final tweaks he wanted to make—Libby had taught him that much. If something was worth doing, it was worth doing properly.
“He was worried that he was too hard on you about the plans, but that must be a family trait. Right?”
“Yeah, we’re a bunch of hard-asses.”
“You’re going to do great things, my son.” She squeezed him. “Now make sure you drive safely. I don’t want any of the boxes getting broken because you’re driving like a maniac.”
“Good to see we’re back to normal.” He shook his head and pocketed the ring box.
A fake relationship had seemed so easy when he’d first suggested it to Libby. A few little lies, what harm could they do? But now he knew. He was in a world of guilt because he’d been a bad son. A bad brother.
A liar.
He swallowed as he climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the car door shut with a bang. He couldn’t change the past, but he could make damn sure that after this was all done he’d be a new person. A better person.
Someone they’d be proud of for all the right reasons.
The hour and a half drive to the Yarra Valley hadn’t done anything to improve Libby’s mood. The neat rows of grapevines, greenery as far as the eye could see, and fluffy white marshmallow clouds blurred by, unappreciated, until the GPS announced she’d arrived at her destination.
She’d managed to avoid seeing anyone while she checked in. As she entered the room she was to share with Paul, the dark cloud remained firmly in place. Her father tended to have that effect on her.
Sinking down onto the massive king-size bed in the vineyard’s hotel room, she brushed her hands over the luxurious covers. Tomorrow she’d have to face Paul’s family again and front up to the web of lies she’d created. Including pretending to be Paul’s fiancée.
“What the hell have I done?” she muttered into her hands.
“You won’t find any answers there.” Paul’s voice caught her attention and she looked up.
“When did you get in?” She brushed her hands down the front of her dress and tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach.
He wore a suit. Sharp. Black. A white shirt opened at the collar to reveal tanned skin, and his shoes were polished to a high shine. His dark hair had been cut short since she saw him last, but the natural curl still showed through.
“You can close that pretty mouth of yours. Yes, I do own a suit.” He smirked. “I got in early to have a meeting with the bridal party and the emcee.”
“Oh.” She nodded, pushing up from the bed and resting a hand on her suitcase. “I didn’t realize there’d only be one bed here.”
All the wedding guests were staying at the vineyard’s accommodation, an old homestead that had been renovated and transformed into a luxury hotel. Gracie’s mother knew the owner and the family had been given rooms with views of the Yarra Valley’s sweeping landscape. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting ethereal gold light across the rolling hills.
The view could not have been more beautiful even if it had been perfected by an artist’s brush.
“We’re supposed to be a couple.” Paul shrugged out of his jacket, and Libby allowed herself a single second to admire his broad shoulders before she spun around, pretending to inspect the room service menu. “A couple who’s engaged, no less.”
“Right.” She swallowed.
How would she survive the night sleeping in the same bed as Paul? If she managed to keep her hands off him—which was unlikely—she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. If she gave in to the magnetic pull then there was a high chance of her being completely unable to keep her wits about her at the wedding.
That’s what he did to her. One look, one touch, was all she needed to forget why she was here. Forget why she stayed away from relationships. Forget how much she’d let people hurt her in the past. Hell, if he kissed her hard enough she’d probably forget her own name.
But her father’s visit had reminded her why the happily-ever-after endings of Hollywood movies were a sham.
“I can sleep on the couch,” he said, snapping her attention back to the present. “You take the bed. I couldn’t exactly ask for a room with two beds.”
“No one would believe you were the waiting kind,” she said attempting to lighten the mood, but a dark shadow passed over his face. “Not after the way you kissed me at your parents’ place.”
He nodded. “That was a hell of a kiss.”
Talking about that would not help her state of mind, either.
“What do we need to do for the rehearsal dinner?” Libby grabbed her suitcase and lifted it onto the bed so she could unpack.
“Nothing. I have to give a speech, but you can just enjoy the wine and be your lovely self.” He dropped down onto the bed and watched as she meticulously removed the items from her suitcase.
The tissue surrounding her wedding outfit crunched as she lifted it out and unwrapped it. The black silk gleamed. It was so glossy it appeared wet in the dying light. For a moment she regretted not going with the safe option.
Hunger flared in Paul’s face, his eyes fixated on her as she unfolded the silk to show its full glory. “I have a feeling I’m going to like that dress.”
Libby said nothing as she reached for a hanger, slipping the shoulders over it and setting it up to hang from the wardrobe door so any creases could fall out. She placed her shoes down on the floor next to it.
“Is everything okay?” He narrowed his eyes at her as she continued to unpack.
For a moment she contemplated spilling it all, telling Paul about her father and the seeds of doubt he’d planted in her mind. But Paul wouldn’t understand—his family was so warm and welcoming and kind. They loved one another too much to do the damage her father had done to her—well, except for Sadie and the other woman at the bridal shower.
Besides, she’d resolved her desire to stay relationship-free. She liked Paul. Too much. That was precisely why she needed to put some barriers in place.
“I’m fine. It’s been a long week. I spent a lot of time meeting with restaurants.” She forced a bright smile. “The press release I put out with a quote from your brother has done good things. Business is picking up again.”
“That’s great news.” Paul nodded. “You should be really proud of yourself.”
The words—intended to help, she was sure—turned in her stomach like sour milk. Should she be proud? What had her father said…cheap toxic cordial?
“I am,” she said, hoping the words sounded truer than they felt. “I’m grateful to both you and Des for helping me.”
“I don’t mind lending a hand, Tiger.” He walked over to where his jacket hung over the back of a chair and stuck his hand into one of the pockets. “Especially not now that we’re engaged.”
She opened her mouth to fire off a comeback but the words evaporated on her tongue as he held out a small velvet box.
“I guess I should do this properly.” He dropped down to one knee. “Libby Harris, will you do me the honor of pretending to marry me?”
A ring sparkled amongst the plush velvet cushions of the box. The ring wasn’t traditional in any way. Teardrop diamonds criss-crossed the band like leaves in a wreath. Between the diamonds small rubies gleamed like berries.
While Libby froze, Paul stood and clasped her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. Her whole body sparked like she was the center of an electrical storm. The room shifted around her as blood rushed to her head.
For a moment she could see the future. Waking up in the morning to Paul’s hands on her body, his lips whispering in her ear the words she’d longed to hear all her life: I love you, you belong. Except she, like her mother, had heard those words before. How long would it be before he got bored, before he strayed? Before she wasn’t good enough anymore?
“The ring belongs to my family,” he said, running the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. “But it reminded me of you for some reason.”
She wanted to believe him, but words meant nothing. Promises meant nothing. Her parents had told her they loved her as a child, but when was the last time she’d heard those words without them being attached to manipulation?
Paul steeled himself against the shock on Libby’s face. Her hazel eyes widened as she gaped at the ring on her hand. The ring he’d slipped on as reverently as if it had actually meant something.
