“I honestly don’t know.” He moved in front of me again. “It depends partly on how the trial goes and some other things. But I’m not telling you anymore than that, Gwen, unless you’re coming with me.” He trailed his thumb down my jawline. “I can’t put you at risk. I feel like I’m already putting you at risk just by telling you this much.”

His touch made me vulnerable, even in such a small dose. It was both a salve and a poison—healing the wounds between us and killing me at the same time.

I didn’t turn away from it, but it did make me bitter. “You could have said some of this earlier, you know. Before you ran off and married someone else.”

“Forget about her. She’s not part of this. This is about us.” JC put his hands on either side of me, surrounding me, caging me. “Yes. I should have told you something at least. I was convinced that you would be safer if I kept all of it from you. And I wanted to honor my agreement with the people I’m cooperating with. Now, I’m not sure what I’m doing. Now, I just want you with me.”

I couldn’t help myself—I reached up to wrap my hands around his neck. “I want to be with you too. But this? This is big.”

“It is. It’s not fair to ask you to be part of this. But I’m asking you anyway. Because I haven’t cared about anyone or anything for so long. Nothing. Until you. You mean something to me. And I don’t have to know when you were born or how many siblings you have or where you grew up to know that I feel for you. I can’t pretend that isn’t just as big as what I’m asking you to do. It’s bigger. To me, it is.”

He stepped back from me and spread his hands out, pleading. “This is it, Gwen. This is all my cards on the table. My heart is open and I’m seizing the moment. I’m living for now. For you. This is me saying yes. Say yes, Gwen. Tell me you’ll say yes.”

Yes was on the tip of my tongue. He pulled it from me so easily, like a magician pulling out the never-ending strand of scarves. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. The list of things drawing me back home was slim, after all. I loved working, but I could get another job. I wanted away from my father as it was. Ben had just come back to town, but he had Eric. And Norma—she had Boyd. They didn’t need me, though not being able to tell them where I was going was a definite downside. Was it enough to not follow the man I loved?

Probably not.

But there was something else that was in the way of my acquiescence, and it was most certainly enough to make me do or not do almost anything—me. My gut. My instinct.

It said, you don’t know him well enough to marry him. It said, you don’t know him well enough to run away with him. It said, you don’t know him well enough to trust him to not break your heart again like he did tonight.

It said, you don’t know him period.

He had valid excuses for his secrets, but nevertheless, he’d kept them from me. He’d withdrawn from me and hurt me when he did, and that pain was far too recent. He’d tried to woo me into a marriage without all the details. And he’d married someone else.

They were all things I could forgive—and would—but not overnight. Not in a vending room at the Trump Hotel. Not soon enough to make a yes in any way be possible.

So my answer had to be, “No.”

JC’s entire body sunk. A balloon deflating. I deflated with him, even though I’d been the one who’d made the agonizing decision.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Loaded question since I was anything but sure.

But I didn’t have to be sure—I just had to mean it. And I did. I meant no.

I took in a deep breath. “I love you,” I said, with every ounce of sincere affection I had in me. “And my heart is open. So much more open than it’s been in a long time. But as much as I want to be carefree and spontaneous, I’m still responsible and practical. And practicality says that if this is really something between us—if this is really as big as you think it is, as big as I think it is—then it will last. It will be there when you come back. It will wait. And if it doesn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be.”

“It is meant to be.” But it didn’t sound like he was really fighting me. More like he was throwing in his opinion for the record.

“Then it will last.” I held his eyes, memorizing the weight of them on me, and the way they soaked me up and reflected only the very best things. I thought of how it felt to be covered with his lips and his hands. With his love. I memorized that too.

Then I told him again, for my sake as well as his, “No.”

“No.” When he repeated it, it became real. It was an acknowledgement, not a question. It was the notice of acceptance. It was a white flag, the final surrender in the battle of Prove My Love.

It was his way of saying, I let you go. I set you free.

He pulled me into his arms and pressed his forehead against mine. “I love you, Gwen. You brought me meaning again, and I’m so grateful for that. Don’t wait for me, okay? When I can come for you—if I can—I’ll find you and we’ll go from there. But don’t wait for me.”

My eyes started to burn. “Why? Is there a chance you won’t come back?” Then another thought. “Will you be in danger?”

“I’ll be fine. I just don’t want you to waste any of your life waiting. I’ve done that. I don’t want that for you. I will come for you, but you have to live like I’m not. Promise me.”

His tone made me uneasy. I didn’t know if he was lying about the danger, and that made me uncomfortable and reaffirmed my decision not to go all at once. But the promise not to wait...

I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. I had too much unresolved with him. Too much undone. I’d invested, and I wanted to collect on the payout. I wanted to discover who he was and show him who I was. I wanted to fall in love, deeply and more certainly. I wanted to go through it all, and then, if I was lucky, get another chance at the question. A chance where I could make a better decision that wasn’t based on a crazy timeline or controlled by people outside of us.

They were only words, though, and they were words he wanted to hear, so I promised him.

Then he kissed me, hard and rough, his lips smashing against mine with the force of someone who wanted things to be different. I let him bruise me and mark me with his exertion. It was a kiss that had to last me a long time, and I wanted to be able to remember it well.