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The final thought rocks me to my foundation. Somehow, I went from fearing how Dahlia could hurtmeto wanting to stop anything and anyone from hurtingher.
I’ve always cared about her well-being, that much became painfully obvious after how I reacted when she broke her arm, but there is an undercurrent of somethingmore.
I know I will never be good enough for her, but if I can help her heal and protect her from any more assholes, then I’ve served my purpose.
It takes her ten minutes to calm down and for her tears to relent.
She snuggles deeper into me. “Can you play some music?”
I pull out my phone and search for a playlist before placing it on the bar. The soft strumming of a guitar paired with the melodic voice of her favorite artist fills the air.
At one point, we both begin swaying to the music, our bodies in perfect harmony except for a mishap when I step on her foot. She looks up at me with a small smile that acts like a release valve for the pressure building in my chest.
I cup her face. “I hate to see you cry.”
Her eyes focus on something over my shoulder, but I draw them back with a caress of my thumb across her cheek.
“Tell me what happened.”
Her chest rises and falls from her shallow breathing. “Oliver got married.”
“Come again?” Of all the things I expected her to say, thatdidn’t even make it into the top thousand.
“He had an impromptu ceremony in Vegas.”
“Who’s the unlucky bride?”
She half laughs, half sobs. “His high school girlfriend, Olivia.”
“Should I send a sympathy card on our behalf?”
“Do they make one that says, ‘I’m sorry you married him for an inheritance he will always value more than you’?”
My mouth falls open.
Her gaze drops to the floor. “There was a reason he broke up with me.”
“I thought we already established that he is an idiot.”
“Yes, but that’s not the reason he broke things off. At least, not the only one.”
“Then why?”
“Because his inheritance is contingent on getting married.”
“And?” I press.
“When I found out I couldn’t have kids with him, he didn’t want to get married anymore.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes may be dry, but the look in them haunts me. “We’re not compatible.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“The prenup required me to take a genetic screening test with him. I thought it was a normal request—”
“That should be a choice, not a contingency for marriage.” I seethe.
