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24
ISABELLA
Ifeel like my heart is breaking.
I’d thought for just a moment last night that maybe he’d changed his mind. That maybe us sleeping together, the things we did, meant that we were going to try after all.
He’d told me differently right off the bat.
We’ll divorce quietly.The words tear at my heart, keeping me silent all through the hour it takes us at the town hall, the walk back to Niall’s bike. I don’t say a word as we eat a hasty breakfast, and I feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything either.
Oceans of space between us.Just like last night, even though there’d been not even a half an inch in the tiny bed.
I watch him stuff the folded wedding dress in his saddlebag, touching the gold ring on my finger.I have everything I thought I wanted, and I’m going to lose it.Last night hadn’t been the beginning of anything, just a prelude to the end.
Everything except my—our—baby.
All I can do is focus on that now, keeping the baby safe. Obeying Niall, so that he can help me do just that. As he fires up the bike, I get on behind him, helmet safely buckled on this time, and my heart aches. I look out at the desert road ahead of us, and I wish we could stay here, hidden away forever.
I want to stay with Niall, but deep down, I don’t want to go to Boston. A few weeks ago, I’d barely even been out of my family home, and now I’m about to leave the country for the first time. It terrifies me, but I don’t want to say it out loud.
I don’t want to seem ungrateful after everything Niall’s done already.
We ride as far as we can for the day. It’s hard to remember why I was ever afraid of being on the back of Niall’s bike. It feels so much freer than being inside the bulletproof-glassed vehicles my family owns. I can feel the wind in my hair even with the helmet on, whipping past us. Niall is just wearing his shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his leather jacket stowed in the saddlebag against the heat of the day. I can feel him so much better like this, with my arms wrapped around him as I press my cheek to his back and inhale his scent.
I want to remember every moment we have left.
When it’s nearly dark, Niall pulls off the highway towards the next town we see. “We’ll stop here,” he tells me when we’ve slowed enough that I can hear him over the motorcycle engine.
My heart jumps a little because that means another night with him, another night probably sharing a bed. He’d said we’d be stopping before we left this morning, but I’d wondered if he might decide to just drive all the way through, to avoid having to be so close to me again.
He’d said last night that sharing a room with me wasn’t a hardship—but then this morning told me that once we were in the States, he’d be divorcing me. A hasty divorce to end an all but fake marriage. It makes me wonder what he really feels.
“Let’s get something to eat.” Niall stops in front of the first restaurant on the main street, and my stomach growls. We hadn’t stopped for lunch, and the egg sandwich I had as we left this morning has long since worn off. The restaurant he picked is a small taqueria, and he opens the door for me as we head inside.
“What is Boston like?” I ask him tentatively as we sit there waiting for our food order, a bottle of water in front of each of us and a tequila in front of him. “Is it cold?”
Niall chuckles. “Sometimes,” he admits. “It gets very cold in winter. Snows a lot. You might like it,” he adds. “Some novelty, after all this desert.”
“You don’t like the desert?”
He glances at me, some unnamable emotion crossing his face. “I have mixed feelings,” he says finally, and my heart twists in my chest. I know what he means, and he’s not talking about Mexico’s climate.
“Do you like Boston?”
Niall nods. “I was born there, grew up there. I never had a desire to leave. I work for the same organization that my father did, the Irish Kings, just in a higher capacity. My best friend leads them, along with his brother. It’s a good life, and not one I’ve ever had a desire to leave.”
“But a violent one,” I say softly. “You said as much.”
“It is.” Niall’s jaw tenses. “I’m not going to make apologies for the man I am, Isabella. I’m a fighter to my core, a man good at violence towards those who deserve it. Hell, I spend a good part of my free time in the boxing ring. It’s the kind of man I’m always going to be, and it’s part of why I didn’t want a wife or a family. My life isn’t the kind that’s right for being responsible for others—but I am now.”
“I’m sorry.” I look down at my hands helplessly. The food comes, dropped off by a waiter who disappears instantly, but my appetite is gone. “You don’t have to stay, Niall. I can do this alone—”
“You can’t,” he says, not unkindly. “Not just because I don’t want you to, but because you can’t.Ican’t leave you here. It would put you back in Diego’s hands or worse. I can’t take you back to your father. The only thing to do is get you over the border, as far away from Diego’s influence as I can. And after that, what? You’d be hard-pressed to make it on your own, Isabella. You’re not prepared to go out into the world, get a job, or be a poor single mother. And even if by some miracle you could figure that out on your own, with no money and no support network, I’d never let you. You’re the mother of my child, and whatever I wanted for my life before, that doesn’t matter now.”
“It should,” I whisper.
“It doesn’t,” Niall says firmly. “Now, eat.”
