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My eyes widen.Can he even hear himself?

“Seriously?” I say. “What are you, a toddler?” I shake my head, unable to hide my disdain. “Are you going to throw a tantrum every time you butt heads with the world? Because all I can say to that is, Killian de Luce, you’ve got some serious growing up to do.”

He concedes with a shrug. “Maybe you’re right. And yet, you can’t deny what existed between us. We had something, Shiv. Something genuine, real—something bigger than both of us. I felt the way you returned my kiss. Felt the way your hands—”

“Enough!” I cut him off, the memory of that moment filling me with a deep seething anger and regret, not just at him, but also that sad, desperate girl I so recently was. “What we had, if you can even call it that, was a mistake. A moment of weakness on my part. Nothing more.”

Killian leans back, his expression hardening. “You’re really going to look me in the face and tell me it meant nothing?”

“Yes,” I say nodding firmly. “Because it did. Not in the way that you think.”

He studies me for a moment, then sighs. “I suppose there’s no convincing you otherwise.”

“Don’t waste your time,” I tell him, my resolve steeling. “Because you and I will never happen. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise I plan to keep forever.”

“Forever is a long time, Shiv.” His voice is so quiet it’s nearly inaudible.

“In this case, not nearly long enough.” I shake my head, eager to be done with him. “You have an alarming sense of entitlement, you know that?”

Pushing his half-eaten pie aside, he rests his hands on the table, staring at his open palms as though the secrets of the universe were etched in those lines. “Love makes a person do crazy things,” he says, as though that’s somehow supposed to excuse his actions and charm the pants off me.

And yet, as annoying as I find his response, my feelings for him suddenly shift from a deep, seething anger to sheer, unadulterated pity.

Killian de Luce has no idea what love really is. And I suppose, back when I was crushing on him, neither did I.

But now that I do, now that I know what it’s like to love so deeply and completely it’s woven into the very fabric of my being, I can’t fathom what I ever found appealing in him. Good looks and banter—it’s a greeting card, a Christmas movie, a swipe of red lipstick on a pig—it’s all surface, no substance.

“You’re wrong about love,” I say, my voice softer, hoping maybe it will help him to truly hear. “Love doesn’t make you crazy. It’s not drama and chaos and insecurity. Not when it’s real. Love is grounding, healing, the most stabilizing force in the world.”

“I want that,” he says, his voice almost childlike in its yearning. “And I want it with you.”

Frowning, I stand, my chair scraping softly. “But that’s something you’ll never have with me,” I say. “My heart is already claimed.”

Killian’s eyes well with something that’s much closer to rage than tears. “Fucking Braxton,” he mutters under his breath. Then, looking at me as though he’s just noticed I’m no longer sitting, he adds, “Are you leaving?”

“I am,” I tell him, without a trace of hesitation.

“But I haven’t even told you about my idea on how to save your father.”

I pause for a moment to consider. And though there’s still no sign of a tell, I don’t need Killian de Luce to save my dad, not when I plan to do it myself.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come up with another way to redeem yourself,” I say, and anchoring my bag on my shoulder, I circle the table to make my departure.

“But you’re not going back, are you?” he says, voice spiked with panic. “Back to 1741, I mean?”

Though I could answer, set his mind at ease, what would be the point?

I’ve nearly reached the door when his voice cuts through the air. “What does fucking Braxton Huntley have that I don’t?” he shouts.

Figuring that’s worth a response, I turn to face him. His eyes blaze with desperation, frustration, as his cheeks flush splotchy and red.

“Braxton,” I say, voice steady, “is a grown-up who understands what it means to truly love someone.”

Leaving him with that, I don’t allow myself so much as a backward glance. With my heart racing, I step through the door and onto the cobblestone street.

Though a part of me hopes this is the last time I’ll ever have to lay eyes on Killian, another, more intuitive part, whispers that our paths are surely bound to cross once again before this is over.

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