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“What have I done that makes you think so poorly of me? You don’t even know me.”

With a derisive lip curl, he flicked his hand toward me. “I don’t need to know you. You’re all the same.”

Bewildered, I stared at him. “Who are all the same?”

He ignored that. “You have your options. Stay with him and have nothing, or leave him and be rich.”

If I stayed, Cam would lose his job, his distillery, his fortune, his relationship with his father.

If I left, he’d lose nothing but me.

I love you, honey. I’d give up anything for you.

He might love me, might even choose me if these options were presented to him, but I loved him too, and my mother was the one who’d pointed out … If I loved him, I had to do what was in his best interest. Even if it hurt him.

Could I really let him destroy his entire life for me? If I could break his heart to save the rest of him, would it be worth it? He deserved better anyway. He always had.

Inside, another tap of the nail in my glass heart drove it nearly to the head. The pain was sharp. Icy. Oddly numbing, like that nail was laced with lidocaine.

If it stayed numb like that, I’d surely be able to survive it.

“I don’t want your money,” I said.

Shep’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’m not even sure what I’ve done to make you think I do.” I set my hands in my lap and stared at them, taking one deep breath in and out. “I’ll leave. But it isn’t because you’ll pay me to do it, or because staying with him means we’ll be poor. Unlike you, I’ve been poor, and it doesn’t scare me.”

He shifted in his seat.

“If Cam had any idea what you’re threatening to do to him, it would break his heart. Do you know how much he craves your approval? How much he loves you?” I shook my head, finding the courage to meet Shep’s eyes. “I will leave because I’m desperately in love with your son, and I won’t be the reason he loses his father or his legacy.”

A disgusting, hopeful light burst to life in Shep’s eyes. “And…your job here?”

“I’ll resign. You don’t need to use his own policies against him.” My heart squeezed tightly around the nail, threatening to shatter right there in front of him, but with a single deep breath, it went numb once more.

“And my wife,” Shep said. “You’ll inform her you’ve made other arrangements.”

“Yes.” My voice cracked, and I hated that show of weakness more than I hated Shep. “Are you happy now?”

I swiped away the lone tear that broke through my control.

For the first time since I’d met him, Shep looked a little uncertain, but he straightened his shoulders. “Yes. Thank you, Miss Honeycutt. You may go.”

Fifty-One

My drive home was a blur, not just because of the tears, but because my mind was an absolute mess. The evening was freezing, and I’d forgotten my coat at my desk, so I shivered the entire way to Ravi’s. When I spilled through the front door, dropping all my belongings onto the floor in the entryway, I gave in to the deep, racking sobs that had loomed since I left Shep’s office.

Ravi appeared in the living room, half-dressed. “What’s going—” His eyes widened when they landed on me. “Oh, shit. Maribel!” He darted back into his bedroom, and returned tugging a shirt on, while Mari tumbled out in boxers and an oversized T-shirt.

“Ew.” I wiped my face. “Were you guys doing it?”

Mari crossed her arms. “What do you mean ‘ew’? And why are you crying?”

Ravi took my arm and led me to the couch, where I collapsed as if the weight of the entire world had landed on my shoulders. Maribel handed me a wad of tissues.

I wiped my face as best I could, then tried to get the story out without sniffling any more than necessary—which, it turned out, was extraordinarily difficult. I whimpered at words like birth control and fraternization policy.

When I finished, Ravi and Maribel stared at me, open-mouthed.