My eyes prickle with sharp tears, a lump sitting in my throat, and something is becoming clear to me. Something I should have realised long before now, perhaps even that day I arrived here, when I was sitting on the terrace and he told me that, even though my father didn’t want me,hedid.
Or maybe it was even before then, that night at the fundraiser when I saw him standing at the bar, and our eyes met. And I knew then that he’d be my ruin.
And he was. He is. Because I know what this hot glow in my chest is, and I know why I’m fighting tears. Why this feels like the end of the world.
I’m in love with him. I knew he was dangerous all those months ago, I knew he would end me, and he has. I’m ruined for anyone else, and I always will be, because he’s the one I want. He’s theonlyone I want.
He’s frowning now, staring at me with some concern. He always picks up on my emotions. I can never hide anything from him. ‘What’s wrong, Bea?’ He rises to his feet and comes over to where I’m standing, the concern in his gaze deepening. ‘Are you okay?’
I don’t want to tell him the truth, I don’t. Because telling him I love him will break something. It’ll break this fragile understanding we’ve arrived at, and I don’t want to break it. It’s good being in his bed every night. It’s good having his arms around me. It’s good talking for hours downstairs at the dinner table, long after the food has been eaten, simply talking about everything and nothing.
But I know that I can’t keep this feeling to myself, that I have to tell him. He deserves to know. He’s been very clear that he doesn’t want love, but I think that’s because his parents were both so selfish. They only had love for themselves, for their own pain and drama, and there was nothing left for him. They thought he was difficult, but he’s not. He’s been pouring all the love he had into them, and he got nothing back, and he blames himself. He thinks he’s the problem, I know he does, but he’s not. He wasneverthe problem.
His feelings are protected and locked away to keep himself from being hurt. But he needs to know he doesn’t have to do that with me. That he’s enough just as he is, he never had to do anything else or be anything else. No matter how angry he was and sometimes still is, I love him all the same.
I love him.
‘Yes,’ I say, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. ‘I’m okay.’
He frowns and reaches to cup my cheek in his hand, his palm warm against my skin. ‘So why are you crying?’ His thumb brushes away an errant tear and I shiver… I can’t help it.
This will break us, I know it. Or, at least, it’ll break me, because he doesn’t feel the same way. And by telling him, I’ll have crossed a line that maybe I won’t be able to cross back over.
But I’ve never loved anyone before, and I want to give him this. I want him to know that at least one person loves him for exactly who he is. Of course, he’ll have to give me the truth in return, I know that, and it’ll hurt. But I can’t hide this truth from him. He’s too smart not to see it, and anyway, I don’t care about my pain. I’m used to it by now.
‘I’m sorry, Santiago,’ I say huskily. ‘I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but… I think…that I’ve…fallen in love with you.’
His gaze flares with shock, his hand dropping away from my cheek. ‘What?’ He sounds as if I’ve just told him someone’s died.
I swallow hard yet again. ‘I’m in love with you. I think I fell in love with you a couple of weeks ago, to be honest. But just seeing you with all these plans for our little family…’ Another tear runs down my cheek, and I let it fall. ‘It’s everything I wanted for so many years.’
He’s still staring at me and his face has gone white. His mouth has hardened into a line. ‘I told you,’ he says roughly. ‘I told you that love would never be part of this.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I know. And I don’t expect anything—’
‘You don’t understand,’ he interrupts, suddenly fierce. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Beatrix. I don’t. But you telling me this has put me in an impossible position.’
This time it’s my turn to blink. ‘What position?’
He lifts a restless hand to his hair, shoving his fingers through it distractedly. ‘I have to tell you the truth and I won’t lie. And it will hurt.’ Anger flares in his eyes, familiar and hot. ‘Fuck, all I ever do is hurt people.’
‘No, no,’ I say quickly, trying to deflect him from the path I can see he’s heading down already. ‘I didn’t mean to put you in that position. I know you don’t love me, Santiago, you were very clear about that.’
‘No,’ he says, his gaze holding mine, ‘I don’t. And I won’t. You do understand that, don’t you? It’s not something that will grow with time or hit me out of the blue, or anything else. It’s a conscious decision that I made years ago, and I’m not changing my mind just for you.’
He’s furious, I can see that, and I knew he would be. It’s the way he protects himself. So it’s not unexpected, yet no matter how I told myself it wouldn’t hurt, it does. It feels as if he’s reached inside my chest, wrapped his long fingers around my heart and yanked it out, still bloody and beating.
But I draw myself up, because I’m not going to regret my decision or castigate myself for speaking up. And I’m certainly not going to apologise for loving him.
‘I’m not asking you to,’ I say as levelly as I can. ‘I’m not asking you for anything you don’t want to give. And I’m not going to push you or force you, or blackmail you emotionally. I’m not going to ask you for anything at all.’
That telltale muscle flicks in the side of his jaw. ‘So why the fuck did you tell me?’
‘Because I wanted you to know that you have someone who loves you. Someone who doesn’t expect anything from you except to be the person you are. You don’t have to take care of me, you don’t have to take responsibility for me, and I’m certainly not going to be your duty.’ I take a breath. ‘I just love you.’
He’s shaking his head, his eyes glittering with an emotion I don’t recognise. ‘You heard me, didn’t you? That I’m never going to love you back.’
‘I heard.’
