The furrow between his eyebrows deepens, and he puts a hand over my face, my eyes, and his thrusts come harder, just once, twice, the third time he comes. I feel him shudder, feel him pulse and throb inside me. Feel him empty, and when he stands, I turn to look at him, and I feel my chest tighten at the grim expression on his face.

“Guard your heart, Ivy,” he says, jaw tense. “I will do what I must.” He pauses, and I swear I see the battle playing out inside his head. I swear it. “I am bound, don’t you see?”

I sit up, drag my knees to my chest and hold onto the blanket to cover myself. There’s a weight inside my chest and something I can’t quite swallow in my throat.

“You can choose.” I remember my words to him about Mercedes. About it always being a choice. About how one day he may choose differently. I had no idea how much those words meant. How true they were when I said them.

I dip my head to wipe a tear on my knee.

He reaches to take my hand, and I realize it’s the bloody one, although it’s not bleeding anymore. His fingers trace the line of dried blood.

“No, Ivy. I can only hurt you. No matter how much I don’t want to.”

21

Ivy

The rest of the week somehow passes. Santiago is absent from the house. I don’t know where he is. Not in his office. Not home for dinner. And definitely not sleeping in our bed. Eva has noticed his absence too but is careful what she says. I get the feeling she can see I’m upset. But today is the day Santiago or Marco take me to see my father. It’s always either one of them, never anyone else.

Eva is at school and I am dressed and waiting and both relieved and disappointed when Marco comes around the corner at exactly ten o’clock, keys in hand.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod, my heart in my throat. I was hoping it would be Santiago. But this is okay, isn’t it? Because after the other morning, a part of me thought he’d maybe go through with it after all. Kill my father. What does that say about how well I know my husband? I’ve never pretended to know him though, have I? Maybe a little. I was wrong mostly. No, that’s not it. I wasn’t wrong exactly.

I just fell in love with him. He’s not to blame for that. And he’s told me he can’t love me even if it wasn’t in so many words. Even if he could never bring himself to say those words.