Page 110 of Duty

“Not appropriate, or respectable for you. That’s why they’re concerned. I would challenge your … standing, right?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“They seem to think it does. So much so, that they cornered me at my place of business. So much so, Andino, that your uncle pulled any and all information he could about me and my life. Some of it, I didn’t even know. And your father—”

“What about my dad?”

“He wasn’t so bad, actually,” Haven admitted. “He apologized, and was kind.”

Andino smiled. “My dad is … pretty easy-going. And he probably relates to being the black sheep, considering all the shit he pulled when he was my age. Not that it matters now, I guess.”

“He said something to me.”

“What was that?”

“Well,” Haven said, “he told me to tell you something.”

Andino arched a brow, silently waiting.

“He said to tell you that the things you find that are worth keeping are rarely easy. That, you’re you, and not every other man, so you shouldn’t bend to them. Or … something like that. Please apologize to him for me being snappy; he was kind.”

Andino was quiet for a long while.

Haven let the silence fill the space between them.

It only felt like it was growing.

She had a lot to think about now.

“I should go,” Haven whispered.

Andino sighed, but before she could even get up from the bench, he’d reached over, grabbed her face in his hands, and pulled her in for a burning kiss that scorched her alive. And God, did his kiss make her feel so fucking alive.

Why did it have to feel like that?

Why couldn’t this be easy?

By the time Andino finally pulled away from the kiss, Haven’s lungs ached and her lips tingled. He still kept her close enough that his lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

“I am sorry,” he murmured.

Haven nodded. “I know—I just need some time to figure some things out.”

“As long as you come back.”

“Should I?”

“I want you to.”

Weren’t they doomed, though? Wasn’t that what she knew, now? Nothing was ever going to come from the two of them being together—he was who he was, and he couldn’t change it. She didn’t think he wanted to. He was so unapologetic about being what and who he was that she didn’t even consider the idea that he might not want to be this person.

And even if she didn’t know this part of him well, it was still a part of who he was. So, didn’t she know him either way?

Didn’t she know the parts that mattered?

It didn’t change what she also knew.

It didn’t change what they were because of it, either.