“You're killing me Bellamy,” she told him, but couldn't decide how she meant the phrase, how deep it went. Humor had always been her defense, but right then she felt wide open, as vulnerable as she'd ever been.

“You’ve no idea the irony in that statement. Rose, you're not going to like what I have to say,” he replied. Gone was the flat, professional tone. His voice ached with regret, as though he was getting ready to dump her but knew it was going to do more than just break his heart.

“What is it, Bellamy? What is this secret you've been hiding, you and Mom? Enough is enough.”

“I might not be here much longer.”

She yanked her hand free from his. The heart ache began to spill from her heart, a slow seeping sensation. “What do you mean?”

“I might have to go away.”

“Back to England? Texas?”

“No. In my line of work, I travel a lot.”

“But you're coming back though, right?”

“If I have to go, I won't be coming back. Not ever.”

As she vied with the tears inside her, a bitter fury kept them at bay. “You son of a bitch!” Rose thumped her fists against his hard chest but he never faltered. “What kind of explanation is that? You never intended to stay around, did you? This whole time, you've been playing me like a goddamn fiddle. Bellamy…you’re crushing me. You’re breaking my heart. Why?” The urge to punch him repeatedly in the face would have won out...if only she hadn't been holding the photograph under her arm. Thomas Bonden.

She stepped away instead, back to the sideboard, where she stood the photo in its original place with a shaking hand. “I don't get it,” she continued. “Why's my mom covering for you?”

“She and I—”

“If you mention the words confidential agreement one more time, I swear to God...”

“Rose, all I can say is that Thomas Bonden died fifteen years ago when you were just twelve years old. Your mother brought us here to meet the love of her life before she passes. It means a lot to her that you came, you and Andy. This will be the last trip she ever takes.”

“How do you know that? Did she tell you?”

“We talked about it,” he replied. “Just like we talked about you, Rose.”

“What about me?”

“Your mother doesn't want you to get hurt. The weaker she gets, the more protective of you she becomes. It's impressive, actually.”

Rose quickly wiped at a single tear that escaped. “She's strong. Always was. I hope I can be half as strong as she is.”

“You are.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “But what do you mean, she doesn't want me to get hurt? By you?”

“By what could happen.”