The tingly sound of his voice made me want so badly to lean forward and capture his clever lips again. I was about to do just that when, without another word or touch, he got up and left the room. I heard his bedroom door close.

What?

My nerves still buzzed, and I had the residual feel of his mouth on mine, as if it had been permanently imprinted there. I collapsed back against the couch, not trusting my legs to work.

Pigeon cocked her head at me, seeming confused. She wasn’t the only one.

“Is there anything written in Sharpie on my forehead?” I asked her. Because I worried that would be the only way I would understand for sure what had just happened.

I slept in a little later than normal because all night I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. I understood that it had been some kind of weird tipsy/friend/pity kiss, but if somebody compiled a list of Top Ten Kisses of All Time, that one would have to be put on there. Which then made me wonder what it would be like if he really kissed me. If he did it because he wanted to and not because he was drunkenly trying to make me feel better about myself.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed the next morning, I smelled bacon. One of my favorites. It was also one of Pigeon’s favorites, so this didn’t necessarily mean anything.

I wasn’t sure how this morning would go when I saw him again. Would he just pretend it had never happened? Could it possibly move toward being something more? Although I’d already decided before the kiss that maybe trying to have a relationship with him was a mistake. I didn’t want to jeopardize our living situation or our friendship.

But truth be told . . . if I saw him and he said that the kiss had been incredible and that he wanted to try an actual relationship? I just couldn’t picture myself saying no.

I came out into the kitchen and he turned when he saw me. “Madison, good morning.” He finished up the last couple of pieces of bacon, putting them onto a paper towel–covered plate, and turned off the stove. “I made you breakfast.”

“Thank you.” He made me breakfast pretty frequently. There was no need to announce it, which made me think there was more he wanted to say.

He ran his fingers through his hair and said, “Last night, that was a mistake. I was buzzed and I shouldn’t have . . . it was wrong for me to . . . can we just forget it ever happened?”

Ha. As if that were possible. That kiss was seared into my memory banks for all time. But that didn’t mean I wanted things to be more awkward between us. And it sounded like I had my answer as to how he wanted things to move forward. As if none of this had happened. “Of course.”

I just didn’t think that I’d be able to forget.

Giving him the response he wanted made him grin. “I’m glad. We got a little carried away.”

Yep. I was there. But I didn’t want to make a fool of myself again and admit that I’d hoped he might have a different reaction to what we’d done. I could play along with this game, tell him what he wanted to hear. “I was upset and you were just being a friend. Which I need, because I think I’m done with men for a little while.”

Especially since I was so emotionally involved with Tyler, even though he had no idea. I didn’t really have it in me to try and find someone new.

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Do you want some bacon?”

“The answer to that question is always yes.” I hoped I wasn’t radiating my disappointment. Disappointment that I had no right to feel since he kept being clear with me. I was the one who wanted more so I was the one who was going to have to keep my feelings to myself.

Our intercom buzzed just as he finished serving me three pieces of bacon. I had taken a bite; he somehow always cooked them perfectly. I hated chewy bacon where the fat felt greasy in my mouth, and I didn’t like it too crisp. I loved them just the way Tyler made it.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Good morning. I have a Julio here for Madison.”

I stopped midchew. Julio? That meant only one thing.

He had been sent to retrieve me and this time my mother hadn’t even given me the courtesy of a heads-up. Which shouldn’t have surprised me. It was like the universe was trying to balance itself back out. I’d been part of something amazing last night so, obviously, I had to suffer for it today.

“Tell him I’ll be right down.”

Tyler relayed my message and then asked, “Who is Julio?”

“One of my family’s drivers. Which means one or both of my parents wants to talk to me and I need to go get changed and head out to their house.”

“You don’t have to go.”

Was he going to tell me I had a choice? He wasn’t really in a position to be giving me parental advice. He lived his life just to take care of his mom. He didn’t tell her no because he knew the fallout wouldn’t be worth it. Just like me and my mother. “I think you, of all people, know that I do.”

I looked at the bacon he’d made me and suddenly I didn’t feel very hungry. My mother had a natural talent for appetite suppression. I pushed my plate away. Pigeon could finish it for me.

Normally I would get dressed up to go back to the house, but if they were willing to be rude, then so was I. I put on a pair of comfortable leggings and a dark-green tunic. I put my hair up into a ponytail and brushed my teeth. Then I went to get my coat and purse and I called out, “See you later!”

He stuck his head out of his bedroom door. He looked concerned, but all he said was, “Good luck!”

I was going to need more than luck. I was going to need all the strength and willpower I could muster to stand up to them, because I knew what was coming next. I didn’t have to wonder why they’d sent for me. I knew.

I greeted Julio as he opened the back door of the black SUV for me. We’d been on the road for only a few minutes when my phone buzzed.

Brad had texted me.

I wondered why his grasp of the English language was so very poor. Since he couldn’t follow basic directions, I blocked his phone number. I blocked his email. Then I went into every bit of social media I had and blocked him there. I felt satisfied that I had done my best to cut him out of my life completely.

I knew that the only reason he’d bothered to reach out was that he was probably getting yelled at, too.

About a half hour later Coughlin let me into the mansion and told me that I could wait in the library. As I got closer to the door I heard someone crying and talking. Did my parents have a list of people they planned on torturing today?

“No. I know. I love you, too. But you don’t understand. I have to marry him . . . You know I don’t want to. I only want to be with you. No, Santiago, please, they will disown me and—”

Violet was walking back and forth, talking into her phone, her free arm wrapped around her waist as if she were trying to hold herself together. Never once in my entire life had I seen my sister cry. My father loved to tell the story of the time Violet was thrown from her horse and fractured her arm in two places. She didn’t cry once, not on the way to the hospital, not when they put a cast on her, not when they had to rebreak the bone because it was healing improperly.

I said her name and she stopped short. “I have to go,” she murmured.

“What was that about?” Who was Violet in love with? “Are you okay?”