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I shuffle my feet. "Yes, again."
"Okay."
"Okay? That’s it?"
She shrugs. "What do you want me to say?"
"Wouldn’t you be upset if you were in my place?"
"Well, I never would’ve gotten married, period."
I blink. I mean, I know Zara’s a feminist, but this is the first time I’m hearing her declare this out loud.
"No need to look so shocked. Marriage doesn’t guarantee a happy ending. You know that, right? Not that I’m referring to your marriage, of course."
"Of course…" I purse my lips. "You don’t believe that, do you?"
"Oh, honey. Of course, I do." She swipes her hair back from her face. “I also happen to believe practically all relationships are based on a foundation of lies and mutually accepted delusions."
I look at her closely. "Who hurt you, Zara?"
She looks stunned, then lowers her eyelids. "Is it that obvious? I’m normally better at hiding it."
"Not from me," I murmur.
"Guess not." She half-smiles. "I guess it’s the fact that he accepted you so wholeheartedly that’s making me reconsider whether all men are bastards."
"Unlike the arsewipe who caused you distress."
She waves her hand in the air. "I’m over him. Although, clearly, I’m carrying the scars of his emotional rejection, and PS, don’t change the topic."
I blow out a breath. "I wasn’t changing the topic."
"Yes, you were."
I narrow my gaze on her, but she stares right back at me.
"Fine." I hunch my shoulders. "So maybe I was. But you do realize, your attitude is unhealthy."
She scoffs, "As long as it works for me, I’m good."
"But—"
She holds up her hand. "Enough about me already. Back to the relationship between you and that tosser, Liam. What are you going to do about it?"
"I don’t know." I rub the part of my finger where I wore his ring. The ring I left behind. The ring I wore for only a few days. So why do I already miss it?
My phone vibrates in my bag. I pick it up, glance at the screen, then raise my eyebrows at Zara. "It’s my mother."
45
Liam
What the hell am I doing here?
I slam the door to my McLaren, then walk up the steps of Isla’s mother’s house. For once, I’m thankful that my mother—and hers, by the looks of it—took it upon themselves to intervene. I haven’t taken it too kindly, in the past, when my ma has tried to steer me into alliances. I’d politely, but firmly tell her that I’d find my own bride, and I did. But this time, I’m more than willing to accede to her plans.
If this is the only way I’m going to see Isla again, then so be it. I didn’t specifically ask my ma if she’d be here, but I have no doubt she will be. It’s why my mother invited me, after all. Isla may not be sure about our future together, but I’ve decided otherwise, and so have our mothers.
