Page 105

‘Why am I here again?’ she thought bitterly. ‘I won’t be any man's second choice. Especially not one who’s in love with someone else.’ Her chest ached at the thought. ‘How long do I have to stay? And why is he bringing me here? How many days do I have left before I can leave?’

Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

Lorenzo noticed her silence and crossed the room, dropping down beside her on the bed. His brows drew together the moment he caught the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low as his fingers gently cupped her face. “Why are you crying?”

But the moment his skin touched hers, Krystal flinched. She pulled his hand off her face and shook her head. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

Lorenzo didn’t move, his brows drawn together in a deep frown. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, voice softer this time. “If you don’t want the divorce… we don’t have to go through with it.”

Her response was instant. “No. Wearegetting divorced,” she snapped, turning away. “This is personal. It has nothing to do with you. I’m upset about something else.”

She tossed the tablet aside and slid under the duvet, turning her back to him.

After a moment, she pulled it down just enough to glare at him. “Sleep on the couch. Not the bed.”

He scowled at her, but she ignored it, turning away and falling asleep soon after.

An hour passed. Her breathing had grown deep and steady, and the room was wrapped in silence.

Lorenzo glanced at the couch, then at the bed. Without a sound, he walked over, lifted the duvet, and slid in beside her.

Her face was turned toward him, peaceful in sleep.

He lay still, watching her in the moonlight. His gaze softened. There was something about seeing her like this—vulnerable, peaceful—that made his chest tighten. Even after two years together, she still made his heartbeat slow down and speed up all at once.

His fingers twitched, trembling slightly as he fought the urge to touch her. ‘This woman drives me crazy... and yet, she’s the only peace I’ve got.’

Unable to help himself, he slowly slid a hand under her neck, lifting her just enough to pull her into his arms. She shifted in her sleep, settling against him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer until her head rested under his chin. Her arms unconsciously curled around his chest.

His hand slid beneath her nightshirt, resting on the soft, warm skin of her waist. He held her there, snug against him, breathing in the scent of her hair.

For the first time in months, sleep came to him easily.

***

The next morning, Krystal sat across from him at the breakfast table, glaring like she wanted to stab him with her fork.

Lorenzo raised a brow innocently. “What? And why are you sitting all the way over there? Grandpa’s going to figure out we’re having problems in two seconds.”

Krystal stabbed her fork into a piece of broccoli like it had personally offended her.

He stood, pushed his chair back, and walked over to her. Without asking, he pulled her chair closer until it bumped against his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, grabbing the chair to move it back.

He held it in place with one hand, barely using any strength.

“I told you to stay close. If Grandpa sees us sitting apart, he won’t believe we’re still in love,” Lorenzo said casually, already focused on his food.

Krystal huffed, clearly defeated, and sat stiffly in her chair.

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She sank into the chair with a huff.

He grinned, reaching across the table, engulfing her hand in his.