EMBER’S POV
“Don’t compare me to Celeste.”
“Why not?” Something cruel flashes across his face — the defense mechanism I know too well, the one where hurt converts to venom because venom is easier. “You’ve been running to Rafael all trip. Confiding in him. Crying on his shoulder. Letting him touch you and hold you and fill your head with every reason to leave me. How is that different from what she did?”
“It’s COMPLETELY different and you know it—”
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly the same. A woman who says she wants me but keeps one foot pointed toward the exit. A woman who takes what I offer and then looks around to see if someone better is available.”
“I have NEVER—”
“The gallery. An hour alone with him. Oh, come on. I’m not stupid. That painting — the f***
