She flicked him in the chest.

He burst out laughing, and she bathed in the warmth of the sound. “Go on,” he managed eventually. “Tell me the rest.”

“Ah. Yes. Well. I realized I wasn’t as naturally emotive as other people. I knew I could be hyperfocused on my work, that I could be blunt and unsentimental. But I wanted to be a good girlfriend,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the memory. She’d been so young and so ridiculous, thinking she could fake certain qualities to make someone else happy. Thinking that she should. She’d never make that mistake again.

Won’t you?

She cleared her throat. “In the end, it didn’t matter. We were together for four years before I caught him fucking someone else. I mean, he was literally fucking someone else when I walked into the room. He didn’t know I was coming home. I was trying to surprise him. Because, you know. Romance.”

Zaf growled. As in, that noise predatory animals make right before they eat someone. His expression was just as ferocious, too. “What an arsehole.”

“Mmm,” Dani nodded. “That’s what I said. But then he told me that he’d been forced to begin an affair because I was so dull and inattentive and ice cold—that’s a direct quote, I suppose he was feeling poetic. Apparently, being with me left him lonely.”

The hand on her hip tightened for a moment before relaxing finger by finger, as if by force. Zaf’s jaw was hard as he gritted out, “What?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dani attempted a smile. It wasn’t her best. “The thing is, I’d been trying so hard—and I’d been so blissfully oblivious, certain I was getting it right—and the whole time, I was failing.”

“Failing?” Zaf didn’t just scowl. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen him, practically bristling with it. Since he was bare-chested and dangerously handsome, Dani rather enjoyed it, but she tried not to look too thrilled, because he was clearly serious.

Seriously pissed, that is.

“You didn’t fail, Danika,” he snapped. “You loved someone, and you tried to make them happy. The fact you were incompatible isn’t a failure on anyone’s part. Failure is lying and cheating and blaming it on anything but your own sleazy, spineless bullshit. You know that, right?”

“I—” She faltered, taken aback by the fire in his eyes. She’d been angry, too, of course she had. But maybe not quite this angry. Because, at the time, no—she hadn’t known that at all.

“I know it now,” she said finally.

“Good.” He held her tighter, pulled her closer, and looked even more murderous. “What a piece of shit. What did you say his last name was, again?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t.”

Zaf grunted.

“Anyway.” She swallowed. “After that, I refused to change myself for a relationship ever again. I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself by putting romance before my work, or bending over backward to make time for inane chats about how someone’s day was, or forcing myself to make grand gestures, or pretending to give a shit about anniversaries—”

Zaf raised his head to squint at her. “You don’t give a shit about anniversaries?”

She waved a hand. “Valentine’s Day exists for a reason. Marking the passage of time within your relationship as if it’s a prison sentence seems unnecessarily depressing.” She paused. “My point is, after I stopped compromising, every relationship I attempted went straight down the toilet. In the end, it seemed like a waste of everyone’s time and energy to keep trying. So I stopped.” And now she’d hopped back into the saddle by developing an attachment to the sweetest man on earth, who deserved the best relationship in the world and was smart enough to know it. Nice training wheels, Danika. Suddenly, her throat felt tight, her heart pounding against her ribs.

“Hey,” Zaf said, squeezing her arm. “Listen. Not only was that guy a piece of shit, he had maggots for brains if he couldn’t see that you’re perfect. But I see it. And you do know how to make someone happy, Dan. Remember when I told you relationships shouldn’t feel like a drain? That, when it was worth it, and it was right, you’d want to compromise?”

“I—yes?”

“Well, maybe that’s where we’re at. Because all those things you think you can’t do, Danika, you already do them for me.” He paused. “Except for the anniversary thing. We’ll talk about that later.”

She wanted to laugh—she was supposed to laugh. Or to smile and say, Oh, gosh, you’re right! and realize perfection had crept up on her. Except it hadn’t. It couldn’t. That wasn’t how life worked. Instead, discomfort crept up her throat, warm and prickling, as if she was up to her neck in hot water.

“No,” she said slowly. “These things don’t change overnight. I—I’m still bad at relationships.” Of course she was. She had to be. She’d only just decided yesterday that they were going to do this thing, and talking about Mateo reminded her that she was 100 percent fuzzy on the details of how.

How the hell was she going to give the man she cared about so deeply the kind of relationship he wanted? Her lungs felt five sizes too small. She sat upright, just to get a little more air.

“Danika,” Zaf said softly, sitting up beside her. His hand on her shoulder felt heavier than usual. “You’re not bad at relationships. You’re lovely. You’re smart, and sweet, and generous, and you make me smile, and you listen when I need you—when anyone needs you. So don’t—”

“Stop,” she said tightly. “Just stop, okay? I know I have positive qualities, Zafir, of course I do. Just like I know that I’m antisocial and abrasive and occasionally boring, and utterly inflexible, and—and not perfect. Not even close. I’m trying, here, but don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going to turn into someone else.” She hunched her shoulders, focused on the sheets in front of her—but she couldn’t stop sneaking desperate glances at Zaf from the corner of her eye. Watching his face fall at her words, even though it hurt her. Like picking a scab.

Some distant part of her brain pointed out the sudden changes in him, a clinical list: He’s stiff. He’s worried. He’s not smiling anymore. He’d been smiling all fucking morning, even when they talked about the hardest thing he’d ever gone through—but she’d just wiped the happiness clean off his face. She was fucking up already, acting like this, but she couldn’t make herself relax.

“I don’t want you to be someone else,” he said firmly, but she caught the barest edge of panic in his voice, too. “That’s what I’m saying, Danika. I—” He hesitated, then forged on. “I love you as you are. Exactly as you are.”

Her thoughts slammed to a stop. “What?” she said weakly. Or maybe her voice just sounded weak over the roar of her pulse in her ears.

He eyed her steadily. “I think you heard me, sweetheart.”

Her mind stuttered over various explanations and couldn’t find a single one that seemed reasonable. She opened her mouth with no idea what would come out, choking on a tide of anxious fear before croaking, “How?”

“I—what?” Beside her, Zaf looked painfully uncertain.

“How could you love me?” Because now she’d managed the question, she realized it was the right one to ask. The only one to ask. “When would you even get the chance to start? I mean, I know I’m a good time, don’t get me wrong.” Her attempt at a laugh came out disturbingly bitter. “But I’ve spent the last month pushing you away, using you for sex, and boring you to death with various work-based neuroses, so when, exactly—?”

“Stop it.” She could see he was trying to stay calm—but she also knew him well enough to see the tension in his jaw, hear the slight edge to his voice. “You’ve spent the last month making me happy, making me come more than I thought was humanly possible, and carrying out a ridiculous scheme just to help me and my business. And you really don’t see why I might love you? Sweetheart, loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. If only she was ridiculous enough to believe that, despite all evidence to the contrary. If only it sounded remotely like a fact instead of a fairy tale. But she wasn’t, and it didn’t, and her heart—her heart didn’t just fall. It collapsed.

“Oh God,” she breathed. Realization was finally dawning, slow and terrible, like a bloodred sun in some postapocalyptic nightmare. She scrambled to her feet, dragging the sheets with her.

“Danika, whatever you’re thinking right now, I can tell by your face that it’s absolutely wrong.”

Except she wasn’t wrong, because it all made sense. This was the only logical explanation. “I know what you’re doing, Zafir.”