48. Vivienne
Vivienne
Iglance down at the three-carat diamond on my hand. It’s so heavy it took me several weeks to get used to wearing it. Even now, it feels like an anchor pulling me to the bottom of the sea.
“I told you why I’m doing this,” I whisper to Cass.
He squints against the early morning sunlight, and his voice drops to a throaty rasp. “Just don’t pretend like it was your only choice.”
“What else would you have me do, Cass? You’ve made it clear being with you isn’t an option. I may not love Landon the way I love you, but he’s a good guy, and maybe someday—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Cass’s eyes grow stormy as he glares down at me. “The only thing worse than you marrying him would be finding out you’re in love with him.”
Blinking away a fresh onslaught of tears, I say, “Do you even want me to be happy?”
“Of course I do, Vivvy.” Pain lances across his face. “Why do you think I stuck around, helping you with the wedding and doing everything I could to make you feel better? I want you to be happy, but forgive me if I’m not ecstatic about the option that sticks a fucking sword through my heart.”
“I’m sorry that my choices hurt you, Cass. Truly. But your choices are hurting me too.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, and my eyes land on his parted lips. Lips I desperately need to kiss again, lips I’d do almost anything to taste again. His gaze falls to my own mouth, but he doesn’t make a move.
“Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind about marrying him?” His voice is pregnant with despair.
I hate that I’m causing him pain. It’s the last thing I want, but if he’s not going to fight for me, I have to fight for myself. I shake my head. “No, not unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“Okay.” His jaw rigid, he scans the horizon for several moments. “Goodbye, Vivienne.”
My heart freezes at his icy tone and the use of my full name. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” He turns and heads back in the direction of the manor.
“Wait,” I call, chasing after him. Within a few strides, I’m able to grab his arm and tug him to a stop. “You’re going back to the city?”
Cass stares down at my fingers, then slowly removes them from his wrist. “Yeah.”
“Why?” I choke on the word.
“Because my dad’s getting his cast off in a few days.”
I don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s lying. Whether Mateo is fully recovered or not isn’t the issue. “Just like that?”
Cass gives a single, gruff nod. “It’s better this way.”
“Better for whom?”
His eyes dance up to meet mine for a split second before he averts them again. “You know whom.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Damn it, Viv.” He shoves a hand through his hair, raking it back and making it stand up at weird angles before it collapses back over his forehead. “Better for you, better for him, better for everyone.”
“You mean better for you,” I murmur.
“Yeah, that too.”
“I see.” I nod as if I understand, but the truth is, I’m so far from understanding that it feels as though we’re living in different realities, with no overlap between the two. “Well, thank you for all your help. It means a lot.”
“Don’t,” he says, dragging a hand over his face. “Just don’t.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. I guess this is it, then. Probably the last conversation we’ll have before I get married. It kills me that it’s ending like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it. “Are you coming back?” I ask. “For the wedding?”
Cass flattens his lips into a thin line, and I know he doesn’t want to be reminded that I’m getting married, but I can’t get through the next week and a half without knowing if I’ll see him again. “Yeah,” he says, the word coming out hoarse. “I’ll be there.”
“Okay.” My voice is nearly swallowed by the wind blowing over the moor. “I’ll see you then.”
He nods once more, then turns and walks away.
This time I let him go, drinking in the sight of his back and shoulders in that soft gray T-shirt, the corded muscles straining against his sleeves, and his long strides eating up the ground.
I envision him spinning around and flinging his arms wide in invitation as I sprint toward him and throw myself into them. It doesn’t happen.
Eventually, he reaches the house and disappears inside. I’m still standing in the same spot when I hear the rumble of his car engine as he drives away.
Tucking my hands in the pocket of Cass’s hoodie, I stroll toward the barn.
I’m halfway to Rhya before it all comes crashing back.
The rain, the accident, her labored breathing as we waited for Cass to find us.
My heart seizes up, and I bolt to her stall, a million worst-case scenarios playing in my head.
When I get there, she’s back on her feet, and I nearly cry with relief. The vet wasn’t sure how long her recovery would take, but this has to be a good sign.
“Hey, girl,” I murmur, sticking my hand through the bars to scratch her ears. Normally, I’d already be inside, but something’s holding me back.
She steps closer and nuzzles my hand.
“I forgot to bring treats,” I tell her. “But I’ll go grab some.” Moving toward the tack room, I nearly bump into one of the grooms. He’s older and has a bushy white beard that rivals Santa’s.
“Sorry, Ms. Wilson,” he says, extending his hand. “I was coming to bring you these.”
I accept the three large carrots from him. “Thank you.”
“I know you’re beating yourself up about what happened, but you shouldn’t.”
I glance at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Rhya’s injury,” he says. “It was an accident. She doesn’t hold it against you.”
“How do you know?” I whisper. I let her down. The least I deserve is for her to ignore me the rest of my life.
“Because animals love unconditionally, no matter what we do. So don’t be too hard on yourself. She’s not.” He turns and walks back to the tack room, while I stay planted in the center aisle.
Eventually, I convince my feet to return me to Rhya’s stall.
She’s as eager for the carrots as always, and when I move to open her gate, she doesn’t shy away.
In fact, she doesn’t act any differently toward me at all.
Maybe the groom was right. Maybe she isn’t disappointed in me, which is a relief, because once my father learns of her injury, he’ll be disappointed enough for the both of them.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” My father’s voice bellows through the hall as he stands just inside the front door.
I finish descending the staircase before answering. I consider pointing out that I am dressed, just not in my show outfit, but today is not the day to mess with him. “I’m not going, Dad.”
He looks up from his phone and frowns. “What are you talking about? Go put your riding breeches on.”
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say. I should’ve told him sooner, before he made the drive down here, but it’s too late now. And after everything that happened with Cassian this morning, I haven’t had time to figure out what I’m going to say.
“Well, tell me. I don’t have all day. We need to leave for the show in five minutes, and—”
“Rhya’s injured,” I blurt out.
Fire blazes in my father’s eyes as he steps closer to me. Instinctively, I take a step back. He’s never hit me before, but I’ve never hurt one of his show horses before either.
“She’s what?”
“She slipped and fell yesterday. She’s going to be okay, but the vet said she can’t compete.” No need to add that it may be the end of her career. He’ll find that out soon enough.
“What happened?” he thunders.
I explain as best as I can, wishing Cassian were here right now, not to divert my father’s attention, but to support me.
“You took her riding in the middle of a storm?” he says.
If I weren’t so worried about myself, I’d be worried about his blood pressure. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know it was stupid—”
“Stupid? It was reckless. How could you have been so idiotic?” When I don’t answer, he leans in. “I had no idea my daughter was so incompetent. It’s a good thing you’re getting married, because I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”
The slam of the door reverberates through the house as he leaves. I sink to the floor, my legs no longer able to hold me up.