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"Okay," he jerks his chin, "you got it, Flower. I’ll stay away from you if that’s what you want."
"That’s what I want." I watch as he backs away from me.
"Fine." He hesitates, then pivots on his heel, heads to the door, and unlocks it.
"Wait," I call after him, and he turns; the look on his face is so hopeful, so unlike anything I have ever seen on his features before that I swallow, my guts twist, and I push away the ball of emotion that clogs my chest. "My family," I force out the words, "you promise not to harm them?"
He draws in a breath, seems like he’s about to say something else, then nods, "I promise."
"And when your brother wakes up?"
"Brother?"
"He looks so much like you that I assume there is a family connection?"
"Family…" He shakes his head. "He’s my triplet."
"Triplet?" I blink. "So you, Xander, and this stranger…?"
He nods. "Triplets." He drags his fingers through his hair. "Something my parents and Nonna knew, but none of them saw fit to tell us about his existence."
"Oh, wow," I bite the inside of my cheek, "that… that must have come as a shock, I imagine?"
"You can’t make this shit up." His features grow hard. "I’m not sure if I can forgive Nonna for this."
"I’m sure she had her reasons."
"No doubt," he snorts, "but it resulted in our brother turning against us. For so many years, we were unaware of his existence, and now I wonder if it’s too late to make amends for their actions."
"I bet Nonna feels it worse than you. Can’t you forgive her for what she did?" Like how you forgave me and came after me?
"Do you want me to forgive her?"
I hold his gaze, then nod. "Yes," I whisper, "yes, I want you to forgive her."
"Done." He peers into my features for a second longer. "Take care, Flower."
He unlocks the door and walks out.
I stare after him.
So, he left me? He actually left me, just like that? I had asked him to, and he had agreed, which, in itself, is unusual. But he did it. He pushed his own needs aside and gave in to what I want. Whoa! I shake my head, then open the tap and hold my hands under the water. I spot the ring on my left hand. My wedding ring. I should have given it back to him. After all, this entire marriage is a sham, isn’t it? I rush to the door, yank it open, and call out, "Wait, Christian."
He pauses not five feet from the door, but doesn’t turn. I walk over to stand in front of him, then pull off the ring and hand it over.
He glances at the ring in my hand, then up at my face. "What’s this?"
"It’s yours," I murmur, "you should take it back."
"It’s yours," he growls, "You should keep it."
"But… it doesn’t feel right."
"I gave it to you; it belongs to you." He brushes past me. "Keep it or toss it; do whatever you think is right, Flower."
53
Christian
