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Because if he can’t trust me, how can we ever move on?
“He could have told me then. He could have fessed up and explained… but he didn’t. Instead, he took me with him and then sent me back the second Mum clicked her fingers. I can’t trust either of them. I can’t trust anyone.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper. “You can trust me, Reese. Oak and Elliot and Theo. You can trust us.”
“I want to believe you, Liv. I do. But—”
“I’m here. I came here for you.” I kiss him, hard and bruising, refusing to let go. He needs to know I care about him. He needs to know that I would never hurt him.
“Liv—” He tries to push me away, but I refuse to budge.
“No, Reese. You need this. I need this.” I press another kiss to his mouth, flicking my tongue over the seam of his lips. His body shudders beneath me, his hands curling into my hips and lifting me over him. One of his hands splays over my arse, pulling me closer.
“When I think about the things I’ve done to you… the things I’ve said…” Guilt shines in his eyes as he gazes at me.
“I’m not glass, Reese. You won’t break me.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I’m promised to Abigail. My mum isn’t going to let me walk away from that. She’s made that perfectly clear.”
His words cool the rising heat between us, and I let out a soft sigh, dropping my gaze.
“Look at me,” he commands, sliding his fingers under my jaw. “I should walk away, Liv. You should walk away.”
“Is that what you want?”
“What I want has never mattered.”
“Maybe it should,” I challenge.
There’s every chance I’m setting myself up for a world of heartache, but it’s not fair. We shouldn’t have to stop this because of some old-fashioned arrangement. It’s the twenty-first century. Reese and Abigail shouldn’t have to marry each other on their parents’ say so.
They should be free to choose who they love, who they want to spend their lives with.
“What do you want, Reese?“
He stares at me blankly, as if he can’t process the words. “No one has ever asked me that before.”
“Well, I’m asking you now.”
“I want to choose my own future. I’m not bothered about uni or working at the firm, but I want to be free to choose who I… if I ever settle down.”
My heart drops.
“What?” he asks me, and I school my wounded expression, giving him a little shake of my head.
“Nothing.” I force a smile.
“Olivia, I—”
“It’s okay. You didn’t make me any promises.”
I slide off his lap, unable to meet his eyes. “I need to use the bathroom.”
He lets me go.
