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Armando’s fingers slid from her cheek to her jaw, lifting her face so their eyes would stay connected. The smile he gave her was gentle and understanding. It told her that he wouldn’t ask for details.
Knowing she had a choice gave her the strength to say more.
“It catches you by surprise, you know? At first, it’s subtle. Constructive criticism. An outburst over something you did that doesn’t seem worth fighting about, because, well, maybe you didn’t communicate well enough. Meanwhile, your parents are telling you how lucky you are that such a successful, handsome man wanted to be with you, and you start to think, he’s so charming and agreeable with everyone else—it has to be my fault. That you are the one letting him down by being inferior.”
Armando squeezed her knee. “You are not—”
“I am also not Christina,” she said, anticipating his protest.
The feel of his touch against her skin was too enticing, so she turned her face away. As his hand dropped, a chill rushed in to fill its absence. She stared at the Christmas lights. “Life is not always easy when your baby sister is a great beauty,” she told him. “Soon as she walked in the room, I ceased to exist.”
“That is not true.”
“Isn’t it?” She had to smile, weak as it was, at Armando’s protest. He, the man who fell in love with Christina the moment he laid eyes on her. “The day you met her, at the reception, did you know I was standing with her?”
He stiffened. “That was different.”
No, it wasn’t. “You were not the first person to lose their heart at first sight, ’Mando. Just the first one whose feelings she reciprocated.”
They fell silent again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Armando studying his hands, a scowl marring his profile. “Do not feel bad. It was just the way things were. Christina was extraordinary.” Whereas Rosa was merely average, a fact she was only now starting to realize was a perfectly fine thing to be. Not everyone could be Christina. To hold a grudge against her sister for being special would have been a waste of energy.
For some reason, talk of her sister’s superiority made her think of Mona, another winner in the beauty and character lotto. Someone else with whom Rosa couldn’t compete. Not that there was a competition.
Next to her, Armando shifted his weight on the stone step. “You really believed Fredo was the best you could do?”
“Silly, I know.” Shameful was more like it. That a bully like Fredo was able to chip away at her self-esteem the way he did. “But Fredo had me convinced I would be a lonely nothing without him. Not only was he doing me a favor by being my husband, but I had no other options. Everything I had—money, a home—were because of him. If I left, I would have nothing.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Strange as it sounds, it was Christina’s accident,” she told him. “I was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, thinking how unfair it was that someone like her, whose life was wonderful, should die when there were so many like me who could go in her place, and suddenly, I heard her voice in my head. You know that voice she used when she got exasperated.”
Armando gave a soft chuckle. “I certainly do.”
“Well, that voice told me life was too short and unpredictable to waste time being miserable, so take back control. So I divorced Fredo as soon as I could.”
His hand found hers again. “I’m glad,” he whispered.
“Me, too.” Who knew where she would be if she had not? Certainly not sitting on the steps in a lace ball gown surrounded by an enchanted palace wonderland. Armando would be but a distant part of her life. Her insides started to ache. The idea of a life without Armando was...was...
Right around the corner. The thought struck her, hard. Mona would be taking him away forever.
Before she realized, there was moisture rimming her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing the tears back. “Here you are trying to end the evening on a happy note, and I go and spoil it by acting maudlin.”
“You didn’t spoil anything. I’m honored you trusted me enough to finally tell me.”
“Trust was never the issue, Armando. I told you, I was ashamed. And afraid,” she added in a small voice.
“Afraid? Of me?”
She closed to her eyes. “Of seeing pity in your eyes.” That last thing she wanted was Armando looking at her like a victim. She couldn’t bear it.
“Never in a million years,” she heard him say. A wonderful promise, but... She squeezed her eyes tighter.
“Rosa, look at me.” Rosa couldn’t. She didn’t want to know what she might see.
