She whirled back. “There we were, both of us just turned twenty-two—quite an acceptable age for marriage. I suppose we both thought it would be fine. After all, we’d known each other forever, we liked the same things, understood each other. Loved each other. But it wasn’t fine. Almost from the beginning. Honeymooning in Greece. We both loved the country. And we both pretended that the physical part of marriage was fine. Of course, it was anything but fine, and the more we pretended, the further apart we became. We moved back to New York so he could take his place in the family business. I decorated the house, gave parties. And dreaded watching the sun go down.”

“It was a mistake,” Mikhail said gently.

“Yes, it was. One I made, one I was responsible for. I lost my closest friend, and before it was over, all the love was gone. There were only arguments and accusations. I was frigid, why shouldn’t he have turned to someone else for a little warmth? But we kept up appearances. That was expected. And when we divorced, we did so in a very cold, very controlled, very civilized manner. I couldn’t be a wife to him, Mikhail.”

“It’s not the same for us.” He went to her.

“No, it’s not. And I won’t let it be.”

“You’re hurt because of something that happened to you, not something you did.” He caught her face in his hands when she shook her head. “Yes. You need to let go of it, and trust what we have. I’ll give you time.”

“No.” Desperate, she clamped her hands on his wrists. “Don’t you see it’s the same thing? You love me, so you expect me to marry you, because that’s what you want—what you think is best.”

“Not best,” he said, giving her a quick shake. “Right. I need to share my life with you. I want to live with you, make babies with you. Watch them grow. There’s a family inside us, Sydney.”

She jerked away. He wouldn’t listen, she thought. He wouldn’t understand. “Marriage and family aren’t in my plans,” she said, suddenly cold. “You’re going to have to accept that.”

“Accept? You love me. I’m good enough for that. Good enough for you to take to your bed, but not for changing plans. All because you once followed rules instead of your heart.”

“What I’m following now is my common sense.” She walked by him to the door. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want.”

“You will not go home alone.”

“I think it’ll be better if I leave.”

“You want to leave, you leave.” He stalked over to wrench the door open. “But I’ll take you.”

It wasn’t until she lay teary and fretful in her bed that she realized she still wore his ring.