Page 155 of Legacy
Ican’t believe I’m crying in front of him.
No less than ten minutes after stepping into the loft.
And yet, here I am.
Coming apart in the one place I promised myself I wouldn’t.
I head toward the couches, toward safety, but pivot halfway through. My body twists like it’s on instinct, and I spin around—
He’s right there.
Of course he is.
He followed me.
“Adriana—”
“No.”
I hold up my hand, sharp and trembling.
“No. You don’t get to talk right now. I do. Ineedto.”
I suck in a breath, steadying, swallowing the war in my chest.
“I don’t even know why I wore this color.”
I glance down at the red fabric like it betrayed me. “I hate this color.”
A crease forms between his brows, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
“I used to love red. All of it—maroon, crimson, cherry, wine. It was myfavorite.But then you went andruinedit.”
My voice cracks. I don’t care.
“You went and destroyed everything I loved. Everything aboutmereminds me ofyounow.”
He flinches.
“I shared everything with you.” My voice lowers, raw and shaking.
“Everything; except my last name. Andnotbecause I didn’t trust you, but because I was scared. So if you’re about to do that thing where you say‘well you weren’t honest either’—just save it.”
His jaw tics.
And fuck me, I hate that it makes him look ten times more sexy.
He looksdesperate.
And God help me, desperation looks good on a man like him.
“You’re trying, Angelo. I get it. You’re trying to fix it. Trying to recreate something.”
I take a breath, voice trembling. “But you can’t recreate what doesn’t exist anymore,” I lie.
His brows furrow.
Eyes darken.
