“Then when? When did you begin to trust Wolfgang?”
I find no need to elaborate on why I’m asking such a probing question; I’m sure Mercy can easily surmise the deeper meaning.
She idly plays with her pearl necklace as she thinks. “I don’t think it was a conscious choice. It never is when dealing with matters of the heart — wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m not sure Idoknow. I’ve never been in love before.”
The wordbeforeslips past my lips, and I cringe at the implications.
“Before?” she repeats, and I break out into a cold sweat. “Do you love Gemini, Veil Vulturine?” she asks with the faintest of smiles, and she reminds me so much of him in that moment.
My cheeks burn up. “I — I prefer not to say,” I croak. “It’s irrelevant. If I don’t — if I …” Flustered, I stumble over my words.
Mercy finishes my sentence for me. “If you do not trust him.”
Tears blur my vision, and I curse under my breath, quickly trying to catch them with a curled finger under the eye. Mortified, I evade Mercy’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” I mumble in frustration. “I think this pregnancy is making me more teary than usual.”
She sits in silence, waiting for me to compose myself, one hand still clasped over her knee, back straight.
“I might not remember the very moment I began trusting my husband,” she says, and I sheepishly slide my eyes back to hers. “But I do know this.” She inches closer to the edge of her seat, leaning toward me, as if sharing a secret. “It takes vulnerabilityto trust. And believe me, Veil, I know firsthand how hard that is. Gemini could promise you the world; he could profess to never betray you ever again for as long as he lives, but if you don’t believe him, then …”
Mercy pauses, her gaze lifting to the ceiling before flitting back to me. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard.
“Trust and betrayal are two sides of the same coin, I fear. You must be willing to live with that harsh truth if you ever want to trust Gemini.”
44
GEMINI
It’s been nine days, thirteen hours, forty-eight minutes, six seconds since I last saw Veil.
Seven seconds.
Eight seconds.
Nine sec?—
Her front door opens, and she appears.
“Your hair,” I blurt out.
Her cheeks flush as she reaches up and slightly tugs on the ends of her brown strands, now cut into a shaggy bob, hitting just below her jaw. She shrugs, but doesn’t say anything, and I realize that she might think I find her visually unappealing.
“You look divine, beloved.” I clear my throat. “May I?” I ask with a wave of the hand, questioning if I can come in.
“Yes, of course,” she says softly, widening the door and stepping to the side.
I loathe this awkwardness that now exists between us and vow to fix it as soon as possible. When I walk into the spacious but homey foyer of her new house, I try to conceal the sneer at the material manifestation of our separation. A visual assault against our shared destiny.
This was not part of the plan.
The only thing calming my nerves is the fact that I can see her house from my balcony across the harbor. I would have moved houses in a heartbeat and become her neighbor if I hadn’t lost ownership of that piece of land.
“Let’s sit in the backyard,” Veil declares, snapping me out of my stewing thoughts. “The sun is out.”
“Whatever you please, my beloved.” My tone is far too polite, and even Veil balks at the sound, but says nothing, leading us outside instead.
Her property is quainter than I expected, with a small garden in the far back and a cozy sitting area closer to the sliding doors, string lights crisscrossing above our heads. Tall hedges surround her property, and I wonder if they remind her of the maze.
