Chapter 154

Angel’s POV

The tea was exactly the right temperature.

This was a small thing, but after three days of intense lovemaking, sitting in this chair by the window with tea at the correct temperature felt like an extraordinary luxury. The landscape below was glowing under the morning, and I sat with my cup and my loose hair and the quiet and I thought about everything.

Mostly I thought about Terrell.

Three days.

I had not known - could not have known - that a person could feel like that. That being with someone could feel like coming home to a place you’d never been. That your body could be something you were grateful for rather than something you apologized for. He had looked at me like I was...

I pressed my lips together against the smile.

Ridiculous woman, I thought. Absolutely ridiculous.

The smile came anyway.

He had said let the seeds take shape with complete seriousness, as though this was a practical and not a devastating thing to say, and I had remained in this room without further argument because the idea of having his child had moved through me like something that had been waiting for the right moment to arrive.

I wanted that.

I wanted it with everything in me.

And then, because my mind was apparently incapable of staying anywhere uncomplicated for long, it drifted to Merrick. And with it came guilt.

I set the teacup down.

I felt so guilty because I knew I wasn’t giving Merrick what he deserved, and honestly, I didn’t know what to do about it. Merrick was a good man. An extraordinary man, if I was being honest, in all the ways that counted.

But when I thought about being with Merrick the way I had been with Terrell...

I picked the tea back up.

I looked at the window. It just didn’t feel right.

You would take advantage of his kindness, I told myself honestly. You would stay with Terrell and he would never push and you would let the arrangement continue because it was easier than addressing it.

That was not fair to Merrick.

A knock came just then.

I sat up straighter and sent a brief internal prayer that it was not Agnes, because the conversation with Agnes about the last three days was not one I was looking forward to having.

"Enter," I said.

Merrick came in.

I felt the guilt arrive in full bloom, involuntary.

But he was smiling, though - the easy, genuine cheeriness that was one of his most lovable qualities - and he came in with a relaxed energy.

"Three-day honeymoon," he said, and there was warmth in it rather than accusation, the tone of someone who is genuinely unbothered. "How was it?"

My face instantly turned red with heat, breaking into a big shy smile.

"I’m sorry," I said. "For...we haven’t spoken since your return and I haven’t thanked you properly. For Agnes. For Aiden." I looked at him with the sincerity that I owed him. "Merrick, what you did for her - for them - I don’t have the words for what that means to me."

He waved his hand. "We owed her that," he said. "Terrell and I both. We owed her considerably more. Both of you." He sat in the chair across from mine with easy familiarity. "Don’t thank me."

"I’m thanking you anyway."

He smiled.

I studied him.

"Is everything alright?" I asked. "Is there something you need?"

He looked at me carefully, like he was studying my state of mind.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

My stomach dropped a little. Was it about my wifely duties to him. Oh God. I don’t think I’m ready for him just yet.

"It depends on how you receive what I’m going to say," he said, "whether everything is alright."

"Merrick." I set the tea down. "You’re frightening me. What is it?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"I didn’t plan it," he said. "I didn’t intend it. But somewhere in the last weeks - somewhere in all of this - I’ve come to love someone else." He held my eyes steadily. "Completely. So much that I want to spend the rest of my life with her." A pause. "And to do that properly, I need to dissolve my marriage to you."

The room was very quiet.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I waited for the hurt to arrive - the particular pain of being told by a husband that he loved someone else, the wound of it, the rejection -

It didn’t come.

What came instead was relief. The almost guilty relief of someone who has been carrying a weight and has been told they can set it down.

I stared at him.

"You’re not..." I started.

"I’m not saying it with anything but honesty," he said. "I’m not angry. I’m not hurt. Angel..." He looked at me with serious eyes. "You love my brother. A lot. And I know he loves you twice as much."

I pressed my lips together.

"I..." He stopped. Started again. "I should have told you sooner. I should have come to you before this. I’m sorry for the delay."

I looked at my husband.

My husband who had never pushed, never demanded, never made me feel the weight of what I wasn’t giving him. And I was instantly overwhelmed with great respect for him. Whoever she was, would be lucky to have him.

But out of curiosity, I asked. "Who is it?"

He held my gaze.

"Agnes," he replied.

I sat with his response, shocked, but not completely surprised. Whenever Agnes talked about him, she couldn’t hide the admiration in her voice no matter how had she tried. And the fact that he felt the same way about her...

I started to cry.

Not from sadness, but from joy. From happiness, from the possibility that after everything, after all the pain and agony Agnes had gone through, she could still open her heart to love. My sister was not someone who loved easily. And after the tragedy that happened, I was somehow scared that the ordeal might’ve scarred her for life. But this? This was a miracle.

Merrick leaned forward immediately, concern replacing everything else. "Angel..."

"I’m not sad," I said, pressing my hand to my face. "I’m not... I’m crying because..." I laughed through it, which produced an undignified sound. "Because I love you. In my own special way. And I love my sister. And the idea of you..." I stopped. Pressed my lips together. "You would be good to her."

He looked at me.

"You would be so good to her," I said.

Something moved through his expression.

"She doesn’t know that yet," he said quietly. "She’s planning to leave."

I felt it like a punch to the gut as I sat up. "She’s planning to do what?!"

"I know. I know you weren’t expecting that. But don’t worry, Angel. I’m not going to let her leave. I give you my word."