Chapter 36

On Thursday, we boarded our flight home. Gabriel received an urgent call from work—something about a deal with Viktor's father. I wasn't disappointed; we hadn't spoken since our conversation about Lily. Gabriel spent the rest of the day in online meetings, and I fell asleep before he returned to our room.

I spent the flight wrestling with my hypocrisy. I'd told Gabriel about Sam, a past relationship, yet reacted so strongly to the news about Lily. Deep down, I knew these were different situations. Sam and I never dated; Gabriel dated Lily until the week—possibly the day—before our wedding. This hurt deeply.

Throughout our courtship, I wondered why he'd never mentioned such an important detail. I avoided him on the flight, aware he noticed and that my feigned absorption in a magazine was grating on his nerves. I even pretended to sleep once.

Was I being petty? Yes. Were there more mature ways to handle this? Definitely. Would I continue being petty? Absolutely.

"If you're done ignoring me, I'd like to talk," Gabriel announced in the car on our way from the airport. In my preoccupation with avoiding him, I hadn't considered the drive home.

"I'm not ignoring you," I shrugged. "I'm watching the night sky."

"It's black. There's nothing to see."

"Of course you'd say that," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." I finally turned to him. "There are stars."

"I'm not talking about stars. I'm talking about you ignoring me."

"I'm not."

"Hm."

He looked at me, a hundred thoughts swirling. Finally, he said, "I'm not in contact with her."

"Her?" I feigned ignorance.

"Lily." Even her name stung. "I haven't been in contact with her since…"

"Since we got married?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

I nodded.

He added, "You don't want to talk about it? Ask questions?"

Asking would only hurt more. The thought of him wanting to be with her before his grandparents intervened, and the possibility of him returning to her after our six months were up, while my heart dreamt of a future with him—it all hurt. "How long did you date her?"

"A few years."

"How many?"

"Three."

My chest tightened. Three years was a long time. She wasn't just his girlfriend; he loved her. Love. A big, scary word.

"Did you… were you considering…" I paused, unable to finish the sentence. But I took a breath. Worse things had happened than discovering the man I was falling for had a previous love.

I looked into his eyes and asked, "If I hadn't happened, were you going to marry her?"

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching mine. "Yes."

I gulped. "Okay."

"Freckles."

"No, I get it," I shook my head. "You had a life before me. Thanks for answering honestly."

I looked away for the rest of the ride, and he didn't press me. I wished I could treat Lily as just an ex, but she wasn't. She was his girlfriend of three years, the woman who should have been in Venice with him, the woman whose name should have been his.

Not mine. Never mine.

I was a six-month replacement orchestrated by his grandparents, an arrangement he agreed to in order to inherit his company.

Back home, despite my promise to myself, I searched for her. All my previous assumptions about him being a playboy vanished when hundreds of pictures of them appeared—mostly taken outside restaurants. She was beautiful, with tan skin, green eyes, and thin lips; the daughter of a diamond merchant—the opposite of me, with my dark hair, brown eyes, and Asian features. And those freckles.

I vividly remembered a reporter's question at our wedding ambush: "What about Ms. Grant?" Then, I hadn't cared enough about Gabriel to register another woman's name.

Now I did.

I cared about him. I was falling in love with him. But the fear gnawed at me—the fear that it was only sex for him, while I built castles in the air.

I needed to gain control, and I promised myself I would after tomorrow. Tonight, I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity and the naiveté of my own heart. I'd lived alone my whole life, but my bed had never felt as empty as it did that night without him.