“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Crossing her arms, Vivi faced him there by the front door, her head pounding, her mouth dry.
“Act like I don’t think it’s funny just because I’m tired. I don’t think it’s funny because there’s nothing amusing to me about you possibly dying, especially since it’s my fault.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she felt tears sting her eyes.
Please don’t let me cry in front of him, please don’t let me cry in front of him . . .
But it was too late, and he made a pained sound as he reached for her again.
Backing away, Vivi lifted her hands. “No. I’m . . . okay, I’m not fine, but I just . . .”
She looked at him and said the words in her heart, the words that were scaring her so much. “What if we can’t fix it, Rhys?”
“But what if we can?”
He reached for her again, and this time, Vivi let him, let him pull her against him, his arms wrapped tight around her as she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, and feeling her heart sink somewhere south of her navel.
This was Rhys. This was who he was. And she loved that about him, the kind of cheerful optimism that it would all go his way because, honestly, it always kind of had.
He would always be like this.
And he would always break her heart. He wouldn’t mean to, he definitely wouldn’t want to, but he would.
And who knew what would happen then? Vivi hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but it had, all because she’d loved him too much, felt too many big feelings for him. And maybe a woman who didn’t have witchcraft running through her veins could risk that kind of thing, but Vivi couldn’t.
Not again.
Swallowing hard, she pulled away. “I’m going to go back to Elaine’s tonight,” she said, and he frowned.
“Vivienne—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, making herself smile even as she wiped her tears away with the flat of her hand. “And you’re right, we’ll fix this, and it’ll be fine, and you can go back to Wales without me calling you a fuckerneck again.”
He still wasn’t smiling, but he nodded and let her go. “I can drive you back,” he said, hands in his pockets, eyes serious.
“I’ll walk,” she said. “It’s not far.”
And it wasn’t, the fresh evening air doing her some good as she made her way back to Elaine’s. She wasn’t even crying anymore as she walked in the front door.
“Vivi,” Sir Purrcival said from his basket, and she smiled as she crouched down to pet him.
“Learning new words every day! Look at you go.”
“Treats?” he asked, blinking those big green eyes, and from the kitchen, Gwyn called, “Don’t give him any! He’s eaten his weight in them already.”
Vivi followed the sound of her cousin’s voice, propping a hip against the kitchen table while Gwyn stirred something on the stove.
“Not staying with Rhys tonight?”
“Nope. Needed a breather.”
Gwyn didn’t reply to that for a long time, and then she turned away from whatever it was she was boiling and said, “You can say you’re in love with him, you know.”
“I’m not,” Vivi argued, but she turned away so that she didn’t actually have to lie to Gwyn’s face. “It’s just . . . like it was before. An infatuation. Really good sex. A distraction.”