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My heart sinks, aching with longing.
The woman giggles, and it’s a pure, happy sound. “Mom’s dropping the gifts off at the apartment, so they’ll be waiting when we get back from the Maldives.”
“I can’t wait to see you in that new bikini.”
They whisper and giggle, love radiating. I can’t look away, not until they’re whisked through the security barriers and off to the rest of their lives together.
That should be me and Nero. It should be us.
“Next.”
I realize the guard is beckoning to me. “Sorry,” I blurt, hurrying forwards. He nods me through the metal detectors, and they sound a bleep of alarm.
“Keys, jewelry?” the female agent moves forward.
I shake my head, still distracted.
She sighs impatiently. “Your wedding ring?” she reminds me.
I glance down. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot.”
I realize that I’m still wearing the wedding ring Nero gave me. I slide it off, and stand there a moment, staring at the ring. I could just leave it here. After all, it doesn’t mean anything anymore—at least, not to Nero.
He made it clear to me, our arrangement is over. And now, our marriage is, too.
But holding the simple gold band, I feel a new resolve form in my veins.
A certainty, as clear as oxygen.
It’s not over.
“Ma’am?” the guard prompts me.
“Just a minute,” I blurt, my mind racing.
Nero’s pushing me away, doing whatever it takes to get me out of the country and away from him. But I don’t have to accept it.
Why does he get to make my choice?
Despite what he did last night, I still believe he wants to protect me. In fact, it’s because he’s so worried for my safety that he probably set up that whole stunt with the other woman. I was too shocked and heartbroken to see it in the moment, but looking back now, it makes perfect sense.
He wants me to be angry with him, so he did the one thing guaranteed to make me leave. Pushing me away, all the way to another continent is supposed to be a way to keep me safe.
He doesn’t realize that there’s no safer place for me than in his arms.
“Ma’am,” the guard says, sounding annoyed now. “You’re holding up the line.”
I feel a surge of adrenaline, pumping in my veins. I back away from the screening gate. “I… I need to go back.”
“What?”
“I’m not going,” I blurt, “I’m not leaving him.”
The guard rolls his eyes, like he gets this nonsense all the time. “Fine,” he scowls, “Which one is your bag?”
I point it out, and he hauls it back and hands it over. “Next!” he yells, already forgetting me, as I turn and fight my way around the line behind me.
I’m not going.
