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I hadn’t thought of it that way.
The thought turns over in my mind. Everything feels like it’s in turmoil.
And the handsome man in the hot spring is part of it.
I look at him. “Why are you doing this?” I ask again.
Marco narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You hate me. I betrayed you, remember? I lied to you,” I say. The words taste bitter on my tongue, and I sip champagne to get rid of them.
Marco’s eyes could cut through stone. “You did betray me. And I do hate that.”
“So why are you doing all this?” I gesture to the hot spring.
He hesitates. I can see the wheels of his mind turning. Finally, he gives me a sharp nod.
“Because I need you to be happy more than I hate that you lied to me.”
CHAPTER 17: MARCO
I’m not sure why I’m being honest with Roisin.
Well, actually, I do know why. I’m generally honest. I don’t tell lies to people.
But sometimes, I hold the truth very close to my chest.
The fact that I’m not doing that now, that I’m being open with her about why I’m being so damn nice to her, is unusual.
But it feels right.
Maybe it’s the fact that drinking champagne at high altitude hits me a little faster than it should. Maybe it’s the heat of the spring, or the way Roisin’s body looks, slick and glistening, in the water.
Maybe it’s the fact that I think I might be losing a grasp on everything that I thought was important to me.
But I literally drove hours to this spring, just to make Roisin smile. I’ll be damned if I don’t accomplish that.
She studies me, her green eyes darker, reflecting the gathering dusk and the heaviness of the clouds overhead.
God damn it. All I want is to kiss her.
Somehow, I can’t stay away from this woman. I want to touch her constantly. I want to make her smile. The little wrinkle between her eyebrows when she’s sad makes me feel like I want to fight someone. She’s been lying in her room, alone, for days.
If I thought it would help, I’d kill her father all over again.
I toyed with the thought of kidnapping her mother and bringing her, just to tell her to fix it, to fix my Roisin, but ultimately I’m not sure that it would be effective. Roisin doesn’t seem to want to talk to her mother, not after all the information she dropped, anyway.
So instead, I looked up a hot spring. And I planned a fucking picnic. And we’re staying at a little cabin tonight that’s nearby, and I packed her a goddamn bag full of clothes that aren’t even remotely sexy, but they’re comfortable and soft.
And every second of that process, I couldn’t fucking believe myself.
Because every time I did something to take care of Roisin, the chaos inside me settled slightly.
Watching her in her room, I felt completely powerless. Feeling powerless makes me…
It makes me feel like I have some kind of buzzing under my skin. Like I can’t settle down until I figure out whatever’s bothering her.
I don’t like to feelpowerless.