I'd gone to prison and they'd somehow found their way to each other. And all I'd felt was a hollow sense of betrayal. Mostly, I'd grieved for the loss of one of the few people who had always been in my corner: my little brother. Since then, I hadn't allowed myself to feel at all. And then came Kira who stirred every single emotion within me and forced me to acknowledge the needs I kept guarded inside. She kept me in such a constant state of anticipation I mostly forgot how to preserve my indifference. And then as soon as I began to build up the cold walls within me again, she melted them with her warmth and vitality. Every. Time.

Kira, who never did anything in half measures.

Kira, who had suffered as much or even more than I had.

And suddenly, I felt even smaller, because I saw so clearly that despite the similarities in our stories, and despite the fact that she’d been severely wronged, Kira had chosen to face the world with hope and optimism, and a kindness close to stunning. And me? I had withdrawn and surrounded myself with coldness, focusing only on my own selfish desires. Unlike my wife, I'd been a coward.

But I longed to be better. I longed to be worthy of her. And I wanted her. But not just her body. Her. God help me, I wanted her body, yes, but I wanted so much more than that too. I wanted her approval, to hear her thoughts, to know her secrets. And I wanted to keep telling her mine.

I sat down heavily on my bed. I loved her. Beautiful, bewitching Kira with her fiery hair and green eyes. Kira, who had brought me back to life. Kira with her combination of fierce defiance and deep vulnerability. Kira. My wife.

A small scratching came at my still cracked-open door and Sugie pushed it fully open with her nose, trotting over to me. She chuffed a very soft sound and instead of lowering that mangled head, she placed it on my knee, staring up at me with her soulful eyes. I scratched her ear. "That's a good girl, Sug," I said, praising her for finding her voice and being brave enough to use it.

"When did I fall in love with her?" I asked the dog my wife had gifted me, scratching her other ear. Sugie offered no answer other than a small satisfied whine. When had it happened? The first time she'd called me a dragon? Was it those stupid O-named rats? The first time I'd kissed her? Watching her playing with those kids at the drop-in center, her hair flying wildly around her face, her open and loving spirit unmistakable, even though she had every right to be miserable after her father’s cruelty only the night before? When had I fallen in love with her and not even realized it?

Oh God, I did—I loved her. And I wanted her love. I hungered for it. It was an ache deep in my heart. And I was terrified to want like that. I didn't know how to feel the emotions I was suddenly acknowledging, knew even less how to expose them to her rejection.

Surrender, my boy. Let go.

For just once, have the courage to let go.

I put my head in my hands, not knowing if I was able, not knowing if I could be that brave.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kira

The Beazley House was a 1902 mansion that had been transformed into a charming bed and breakfast just a short walk from the downtown riverfront. It's where I'd been staying for almost a week now as I simultaneously licked my wounds and completed my portion of the list for the upcoming party at Hawthorn Vineyard. I had been in contact with Charlotte via text, and I knew all was going well with the projects both inside and outside the house. Charlotte had offered repeatedly to come visit me, but I declined. I appreciated it, but there was nothing anyone could do for me. And it would only hurt more in the end if I continued to get closer to the people who were Grayson's family . . . and not mine. I had to start pulling away lest I be even more devastated in the end than I already knew I would be.

It was telling, I supposed, that Grayson hadn't even texted me once, much less tried to call.

What a mess my latest scheme had become. I had to comfort myself with the knowledge that the end goal had actually been accomplished. I was financially independent, in possession of the freedom I'd sought, and as for Grayson, his vineyard was on the way back to being operational and, hopefully, very successful.

And now here I was, putting the finishing touches on my costume for the party tonight. I'd attend as I'd promised, make sure everything went well, and ensure Grayson and I looked like an upstanding married couple, and then I'd immediately leave town. I couldn't return to The Beazley House without it looking suspicious. I'd made friends with the owners and they thought I was staying here because of all the work being done at the vineyard. I'd complained the construction dust was stirring up my asthma. I wouldn't be able to stay in or near Napa after all. If anyone in town found out we weren't in fact a happily married couple, they'd feel duped and the whole point of this party—to improve people's perception of Grayson—would be for nothing. I'd ask Grayson if I could spend one last night in my little cottage, and then ask Walter to give me a ride to collect my car, and leave in the morning. My heart sunk and I swiped at the tear before it fell down my cheek. I'd cried enough this week. And I didn't have time for tears right now, not to mention that I had spent almost an hour on my makeup. And so I squared my shoulders and slipped on my shoes. My cell phone rang, and tonight’s ride had arrived.

I took one final look in the mirror, picked up my suitcase, and left my room. I heard staff in the kitchen off to the left of the front entrance preparing dinner, but no one else was around. I'd already paid my bill, and I'd see the owners at the party—they'd been invited.