Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(28)

She holds my stare and forces me to look into her glassy eyes. “During that time, I thought what we had was unique. That it was real.” Her voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t so much as crack while she bares her heart to me once again.

A heart I took for granted, and a heart someone else will show better appreciation for one day.

The idea sends an ache through my chest, strong enough to bleed the air from my lungs.

She points at herself. “I was honest about what I wanted, and you made me believe you were looking for the same. You made me wish for more, and then you took that hope and destroyed it like I didn’t matter. So no, I don’t believe you liked me too much. On the contrary, I don’t think you like me enough.”

I can’t let her continue with that narrative, so I reveal a secret I’ve kept hidden in the darkest depth of my mind, never meant to be uncovered.

Until now.

“I wasn’t looking for anything real when I joined the app, but meeting you made me consider it.”

Her eyes widen.

I continue before my anxiety talks me out of it. “I’d never expect you to forgive me for what I did, and I hope you don’t because I don’t deserve it. But I am sorry for how I treated you after we met, and I’m sorry for leading you on before that. I had every intention of ending things after you told me about your thirty-year plan, but then I made up excuses for why I wasn’t ready to let you go. Reasons like I was bored or entertained or lonely.

“I wanted you to tell me why you loved bees enough to create a garden for them or what made you want to buy a cottage versus some big house. I wanted to know you, and in the process I realized I could never ask you to play the part of my fake fiancée. You deserved someone who could give you that thirty-year plan, and he wasn’t me.”

She glances away, the sheen in her eyes visible from the light above us.

After a few breaths, she says, “Okay.”

I take a step back. “Okay?”

She nods. “Now tell me why you’re acting like we’re friends in front of everyone.”

“It’s stupid.” I scrub a hand down my face. “And I won’t do it again.”

I can’t. I’ll figure out a different way to boost the public’s opinion of me without dragging Lily into it.

She crosses her arms. “That’s not an explanation, Lorenzo.”

I have no choice but to answer her, even if it makes me look like an ass. “I was seeing if you helped improve my image. I’m falling behind in the polls, and if I don’t fix it, I’ll lose the election.”

It’s a bitter pill to swallow after spending two years planning my revenge for my parents’ deaths, but I’m willing to drink poison if it means saving my campaign.

She takes a step back, as if to distance herself from my words. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Everyone in town likes you. All it took was one public sighting of me holding your hair back and a focus group is already using it as an example of why I’m not so bad, so I wanted to test out a theory and see if hanging around you has a positive effect on my reputation.”

She blinks once. Twice. Three times, and I still have no response.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Do your worst.”

“That’s a terrible idea. I’m sorry, but there’s no way it’ll work, and even if it did have some impact on your polling numbers, they wouldn’t be long-lasting.”

“Are you a political expert now?”

Her laugh puts me on edge. “Not at all, but I’ve spent my whole life here, so I know a thing or two about the people.”

My teeth grind. “And?”

“No one would choose to vote for you because I’m your friend.”

“Not exclusively, of course, but it can cast me in a more positive light.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t have much of an impact.”

“For someone so invested in me winning, I don’t hear you making suggestions.”

She takes a deep breath. “Just…give me a few minutes.” She walks down the alley and stops beside a mural someone painted to look like a Lake Wisteria postcard.

Her eyes shut, and I focus on the hypnotic motions of her mouth. She was born with lips meant to be kissed, and for one weak moment, I allow myself to remember what it felt like to have them pressing against mine.

I don’t even know why I agreed to let her kiss me. Maybe after spending two months talking to Ana online, I wanted to prove to myself she didn’t hold this power over me. To show I was still very much in control, even if she has this strange ability to make me question my stance on relationships.

She savored our kiss like one does water after a drought. It was as if she sensed my discomfort, so she took her time, teasing me with the faintest pecks until I was the one slanting my mouth over hers and deepening the kiss.

It’s ironic how I demanded to be in control of how far we took things, yet I was completely at her mercy as she turned a lifelong aversion for kissing into a newfound addiction.

I knew then that I had to let her go. That I couldn’t keep going or pursuing a fake relationship—not when everything about us felt so very real.

I give Lily my back, slide my hand into my pocket, and touch the dice I always keep on me, noting how they feel in my hand: cool to the touch, rough around one edge, and smooth besides the random nicks in the glass.