Chapter 4

Romilly's POV

My face burned where the tea had hit. It dripped off my chin and left dark spots on the white carpet.

I dug my nails into my palms and said quietly, "I'm sorry. If I gave you the wrong idea, I apologize."

Nerissa let out a cold laugh, set the empty cup down, and slapped me.

"You think pretending to be a cripple is going to win him back?"

"Let me tell you something. Lucan is mine. For the rest of his life. You see this dress? I'm the one wearing it. Don't think being his first love means you get to take him back."

My cheek stung and went numb.

The tea, I could take. I was the shameless one, after all—greedy for a tenderness that didn't belong to me anymore.

But she didn't get to hit me.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and pushed her arm away.

"Nerissa, don’t push me too far."

The words had barely left my mouth when, somehow, she tipped backward and went down on the carpet in a cloud of ivory lace.

Then she clutched her stomach and started screaming.

"Ah—my stomach! Help! She's attacking a pregnant woman!"

I stared at her on the floor, then down at my own hands, not believing it.

Eight years of being sick. Getting dressed left me out of breath. Some days I couldn't hold a glass of water steady. I didn't have the strength to knock over a grown woman. All I'd wanted was for her to stop hitting me.

But she'd gone down anyway.

Before I could even process it, the bell over the front door clanged, and Lucan came running back through the boutique. He tore the curtain aside, saw Nerissa on the floor, and his whole face changed. He was at her side in three strides.

"Nerissa! Nerissa, are you okay?"

She burst into tears and grabbed his collar with both hands.

"Lucan, help me... save our baby... Romilly—she's trying to kill me..."

"The second you left, she started in on me. She said you were trash she threw out, and all she has to do is snap her fingers and you'll come crawling back with your tail between your legs. I lost it. That's the only reason I threw the tea..."

"But that just made her crazier. She called me a cheap slut who picks up her leftovers. She said no amount of lace would make a gold digger look like a bride, that I'm only after your money and your position..."

"I couldn't take it, so I slapped her, and then she—she shoved me so hard..."

"You know I'm pregnant. I'm not strong right now. I can't take even the smallest bump..."

I froze.

My lips moved several times before any sound came out.

"Lucan, listen to me, that's not what happened..."

"I—I swear I didn't..."

What I got back was a roar.

"Romilly Quinlan, how can you be this vicious? Eight years ago, you couldn't wait to crawl into bed with some other guy—"

"And now that I'm getting married, all of a sudden I'm good enough again? You put your hands on my woman?"

"You want to lay a hand on my woman? Fine. Let's see how you like it!"

He came at me and kicked my wheelchair—once, twice, again. Then he shoved it backward, hard.

The chair slammed into the glass display case behind me. The glass shattered. Tiaras, jeweled hair combs, and folded veils spilled across the floor, and the whole case went over.

So did my wheelchair.

My head struck the brass corner of the case. Warm blood gushed out and ran down over my brow, dripping onto a white veil crumpled beside my cheek. I watched the red bloom slowly through the tulle.

My ears were ringing. I couldn't stop shaking.

But Lucan never looked at me.

He scooped Nerissa off the floor—lace, train, and all—sobbing and curled against his chest, and kissed the corner of her mouth again and again.

"Shh, baby, don't cry. I've got you. We're going to the hospital right now."

Then he carried his bride out the door, her train dragging through the broken glass, and never looked back.

I watched Nerissa smirk at me over his shoulder, and then I watched his back, and suddenly I was laughing.

I laughed until I was crying.

I thought about when I was eighteen, on a packed Blue Line train, and some man took advantage of the crowd to grope me.

Lucan was just a hotheaded kid back then. The guy had half a head on him and was twice as broad, but Lucan went at him like an animal—fist in his collar, punching him in the face again and again.

"You think you get to touch her? You touch my girl? I'll fucking kill you!"

The whole car froze. I was the only one who moved—crying, hanging on to his arm with everything I had, begging him over and over to stop. Only then did he finally stop.

Back then, I was his girl, so he would have fought the whole world to protect me.

Now there was someone else in his heart, so he'd fight the whole world to protect her—even if the person he had to fight was me.

My chest hurt so badly I was trembling.

The consultant and the seamstresses came rushing back and stopped dead at the sight of the glass and the blood. Someone called 911.

The moment the police and paramedics came through the door, the last of my strength drained out of me all at once.

I caught one of the officers by the sleeve.

"Tell my mom... not to press charges. Tell her this was my choice."

"Tell her... I'm sorry... I can't stay with her anymore."

My heart still ached.

But for some reason, I had no regrets left.

I would never wear a white dress. I would never walk down an aisle toward him. But eight years of fighting, eight years of waiting, and all I'd really wanted was to see him one more time.

I saw him.

The dream came true.

That was enough.