And fuck, I have to bite back a groan, because what would have happened is that I’d have finished what we started. I wouldn’t have left both of us hanging. We would have continued once we were back in our room.

But all that would have happened with someone else and not my teenage bride.

“Nothing would have happened. I’d have remembered that you’re twelve years younger than me. Someone who was bound to me even before we were born.”

Her face crumbles, and I continue in a softer voice.

“I’m sorry for confusing you, Autumn, but we should never forget our reality. Our paths wouldn’t have crossed if not for our grandparents.”

“But…there’s something between us, isn’t there?” She doesn’t drop her gaze from my face.

I’m so fucking confused right now. I’m proud she’s standing her ground and angry she’s giving my crazy brain false hope. But, because she doesn’t deserve to be lied to, I tell the truth. “We’re like those two people who suffer from the same illness, Autumn.”

She jerks back, hurt stark in her eyes. “I feel like a disease to you?”

God, I’m horrible at this confrontation-and-explaining-myself thing. My heart pounds watching her face, which is slowly turning red with embarrassment. “You’ve known me for a long time, Autumn. Do you really think that’s how I see you?”

When she softly shakes her head, the pain in my chest dulls a little.

“I mean, what we share is understanding and…friendship.”

“And you think nothing has changed since you’ve come here?”

Her question effectively shuts me up because the reality is, so much has changed. Autumn is no longer the girl who was writing me emails, telling me stories of her town and her teenage friends.

She’s now a beautiful woman with big hopes and dreams. Someone who not only turns me on but makes my heart race like no one has ever done.

But our situation hasn’t changed. If anything, it has become more complicated. Every day I’m here, there’s a small voice inside my head that questions our decision of divorce, and it’s getting louder and louder.

“Nothing relevant has changed. I’m still the same Lukas Spencer, the lost son of Martha Spencer. You’re still Autumn Smith. We’re still two strangers forced together. Our living like this doesn’t change the plan that we need to get divorced.”

“I know, and I’m not asking for you to stay tied to me forever.”

“Then what the hell are you asking?” All of a sudden, I struggle to breathe with the way she’s looking at me. Dilated pupils. Shallow breaths. Flushed cheeks.