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“Or…” She licked her lips, and my eyes dropped to her mouth. “Or maybe it’s not as tragic as you believe.” I smirked at her words and waved my hand at the chair across from my desk.
Even if she were just another student, someone I wasn’t obsessed with, I loved this. A lively debate about the meaning behind popular literature. I loved seeing things from different angles, and something about Winnie made me believe she’d be an excellent debate partner—that she’d show me the world from a perspective I never thought possible.
“Please. Sit.”
She glanced at the chair before looking back at me. My brows lifted in a silent challenge, and I watched her throat bob as she swallowed. Slowly, she rounded the chair and sank into it, keeping her worn bag close to her side. She rested the book in her lap, her knuckles white as she wrapped them around the spine.
“May I ask you a forward question, Ms. Beckett?” I clasped my fingers together, holding them on the desk as I watched her. I couldn’t believe I was this close to her, talking to her.
Her eyes widened imperceptibly, but then she shook herself. Primly clearing her throat, she nodded. “You may.”
I had to hold my laugh in. She was adorable.
“Have you ever been in love?”
Her mouth opened, then closed, her dark brows raising slightly. “Have I?—”
“You seem to be an expert on the subject.” I waved my hand at her, and she let out a small, breathy laugh.
“Hardly.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, dropping her gaze to her lap. “I haven’t had a boyfriend, and I’ve never—” Her head snapped up. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”
I couldn’t hold it in this time. I chuckled, shaking my head. “No need to be embarrassed. You’re…what? Nineteen?” I knew her age. She was eighteen.
“Eighteen,” she corrected, her voice small.
“Still young enough to have never experienced the horrid business of love,” I teased.
“Some would say I’m too old to have never experienced it,” she countered.
“I didn’t realize there was a timeline on such things.” We stared at each other, and I saw every thought she had, every word she wasn’t saying, flit through her mind.
“Have you ever been in love?” Her voice was quiet, almost like she didn’t want to ask the question. Like she didn’t want to hear the answer.
I dropped my head forward, taking a deep breath. How did I explain my relationship with Madeline to her? “Once, I believed I was,” I admitted. “But looking back, I don’t think that’s what I felt for her.”
“What did you feel for her?”
I glanced up, looking at her below my brows. She was staring intently at me, almost holding her breath as she waited for my reply.
“Obligation.”
Her head jerked back, shock filling her face. “Obligation?” she repeated.
“She’d gotten pregnant, and I felt obligated to marry her. That’s the right thing to do, after all.” Winnie’s eyes darted between mine, listening to every word. “But I didn’t love her.”
“You have children?”
“No,” I breathed, shaking my head. Though it happened over twenty years ago, it was still a sore subject. But I could talk to her about this. I could give her this. “Unfortunately, she lost the baby before we married. But by that point, I felt I was in too deep. I couldn’t get out of it, so I went through with the wedding. I felt obligated to do so.”
Sympathy and understanding filled her face. “I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t escape,” she said softly. “Like you’re stuck, and if you leave, people will be upset or hurt by it. I understand the obligation to stick around.”
Those words felt too heavy for someone so young. I leaned further forward, my hands itching to reach for her. “I’m sorry you’ve experienced that,” I told her truthfully. “It’s no way to live.”
She licked her lips as she nodded, dropping her gaze. Her fingers ran around the edge of the book, tracing the leather and gold-foiled letters. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked back at me.
“You need more of a reading selection back there.” She threw her thumb over her shoulder, and I blinked at the sudden shift in conversation.
“I’m sorry?”
