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She nodded, and I turned the cart on. I felt as if lead were running through my veins, coursing around my heart.

We rumbled through the trees in silence for a moment. Then Cass said, “You know Dad says there’s a part of these woods that’s haunted too.”

“What?”

The comment was bizarre enough to distract me from the weight on my chest.

Cassandra looked into the forest. “Eleanor—the ‘ghost’ my dad is obsessed with—he thinks she used to meet her lover out here.”

I looked out into the trees. “Sounds familiar,” I said. I squeezed her hand, hoping I could bring back just a flash of our time together; just the tiniest bit, so I wouldn’t have to feel anything but good.

“He wasn’t always this way, you know,” she said. “He didn’t use to go on about ghosts and not call for weeks at a time.”

“What was he like?” I asked. Suddenly, I was desperate to hear about a good father. One who cheered for his children, who told them they were winners, even when they failed.

“He was a good dad. The best, honestly. He used to take me and Eli fishing…”

Cassandra told me about her father and growing up here in Quince Valley. How he’d been the main caregiver—played with the kids while her mom ran the hotel. Took them fishing. Helped them with their homework. I thought about my nephew Arthur, how much fun we had together. I never thought about having kids—in fact, if anyone asked, it was easy to tell people Lila and I were too busy with work. But right now, sitting here with Cassandra—her talking about a happy childhood, one where everyone didn’t sit strained at the table, the dad complaining about everything that wasn’t right with each of them—I couldn’t help imagine a different life. For the briefest moment, I let myself think of what I could have had with a woman like Cassandra. A real marriage. A family.

The image crushed me.

“When’s he coming home?” I asked, forcing brightness into my voice.

She looked down, and I knew this was a sore point for her. “I don’t know. I keep asking him, but he says he’s not ready. He’s still grieving, I know. They lived in each other’s pockets, Mom and Dad, right until the very end.”

My heart hurt for Cassandra now. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel like people forget, when they’re hurting, that they can still affect other people.”

I thought of Lila now, and how she looked away when she saw me struggle. How I knew she knew this was hard for me, but was too scared of her own pain to tell me to go.

We were reaching the end of the treed part of this path. Up ahead was the end of the course, the rest of the trail naked and exposed.

I pulled the cart to a stop. When I looked at Cassandra, her expression was impossibly sad.

I brushed a knuckle against her cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. But I felt like the word was losing its meaning. How could I be sorry and still leave her?

“You know, I said I wouldn’t do this,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Trust another man again.”

My stomach clenched. I wanted to tell her she could trust me, but I’d be lying. I couldn’t keep from hurting her. She could trust me with anything else, but promising I wouldn’t hurt her? The tears on her cheek were evidence I’d broken that promise before I’d even made it.

“I wish… I wish things could be different, Cassandra.”

She sat up and smoothed her hair, looking over at me. Then she lowered her hands and looked ahead out the front of the cart. The rain had abated; the only drops now coming from the tree branches.

“Why did you offer to marry her, Blake? You’re a savvy businessman. You knew fake-marrying Lila would mean you were forsaking your own happiness.”

“My life isn’t terrible.” I hated the defensive edge I heard in my voice.

She was quiet.

I ran my hand through my hair.

She deserved honesty. Hell, I needed to be honest with myself.

“I never thought of myself as the marrying type. It didn’t go well for my parents. It’s not going well for my brother. I just—I know it’s ironic, but things are cleaner this way.”