She froze, unable to speak.
“You know how I feel about you,” Ethan added.
And she did know. His feelings were there in every line of the toast she’d heard last night—the toast that Jeff had spoken but Ethan had written. For her.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
“Daphne, we already did this! Both of us!” Ethan flung out a hand to indicate the clothes scattered on the floor, his white shirt glaring in the predawn light.
She swallowed. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand! Talk to me. Just don’t run away again.”
“Are you serious?” She dug her hands into the fluffy duvet and twisted them into angry fists. “You’re the one who ran away, Ethan! You’re the one who gave up on us, that day I poured my heart out to you!”
He flinched. “I’m sorry about that, but I’m here now.”
Daphne wasn’t finished. “I begged you to love me, and you said you were choosing Nina!”
“I’m sorry!” Ethan repeated, his voice low but thrumming with intensity. “Look, I could make sense of Nina. The way I felt about her was manageable, straightforward, simple. She is…easy to love.”
“You love her?”
“No, I said that she’s easy to love!” Ethan cried out. “But I didn’t love her, because my heart belongs to you! It always has, since the very first day we met.”
To her horror, Daphne felt tears pricking at her eyes. Ethan reached for her hand and held it in both of his.
“The way I love you feels impossible, Daphne. I love you so much that I’ve dated other people to make you jealous, that I’ve committed crimes for you. I love you so much that when you chose Jeff, I retaliated by putting as much distance between us as I possibly could. But I can’t keep running from this anymore.”
“Jefferson…,” she protested.
His eyes softened. “Jeff is my best friend, and clearly I’m the worst best man in the history of weddings. But, Daphne—you and I keep coming back to each other. Time after time, year after year. Even on the night before your wedding.”
He squeezed her hands tight, the weight of her massive engagement ring pressing against his skin.
“Please don’t marry him,” Ethan finished softly.
Daphne flinched. “You know I can’t do that—”
“Why, because you’re going to disappoint the tabloids? Stop worrying about what other people think of you, and worry about your own happiness!” Ethan exclaimed. “You don’t love Jeff.”
“I do love him!”
“Don’t lie to yourself! You may love him like a friend, but we both know it’s nothing like this.”
This. This electric, kinetic pull between her and Ethan, this thing that had spanned the last four years of her life; that had made them hate each other and confide in each other and trust each other with their worst secrets. This thing that was so massive, it had a gravitational pull all its own.
“Jeff doesn’t love you the way I do. He can’t, because he doesn’t know you like I do,” Ethan went on. “I love everything about you—your determination and your inner fire and your fierce loyalty. I love that you go out there and wrestle the world into giving you what you want. You’re a fighter, and a bit of a narcissist, and I know it and see it and love all of it. Please, don’t do this,” he said, and kissed her.
This was nothing like their turbulent, fevered kisses from last night. This kiss was slow and soft and heartbreakingly tender. Ethan’s lips parted hers gently, his hand cradling the back of her head and lacing in her hair.
For a selfish moment, Daphne lingered in the kiss, letting reality waver and dance around her. It felt as though two distinct versions of her life were floating before her like soap bubbles, each of them close enough to reach out and grab.
The sound of her ringtone sliced through the haze of her thoughts, and she pulled away.
What had she been thinking? Of course she couldn’t choose Ethan. She was marrying Jefferson.
“You need to go,” she told him.
Ethan’s expression went hard. “If you’re really choosing him, then I’m leaving.”
“That’s what I said!” She pointed toward the door.
Ethan was already out of bed, tugging his tuxedo pants over his boxers. “No, I’m leaving the country. You won’t see me again after the wedding.”
That made her pause. “You’re going back to Malaysia?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or South America, or India. All I know is that I can’t stick around in the capital, watching you and Jeff pretend that your life together is perfect. I can’t sit around constantly waiting for you to decide you want a random night with me when you’re bored.”
Daphne’s mouth snapped shut. Some part of her had been thinking exactly that, hadn’t it? That she could marry Jefferson, but this relationship or affair—whatever it was—with Ethan didn’t have to end.
“I can’t live some kind of half life with you, Daphne,” he told her. “I’m not sneaking around anymore, betraying my best friend. I want all of you, and I always have. I won’t settle for less.”
With that, Ethan grabbed his tuxedo jacket and walked out.
Daphne waited until the front door to her suite clattered shut. Her entire body was trembling, but she forced herself to slide her legs over the side of the bed and stand. The ambient light streaming in from the windows caught the diamond on her left hand, which seemed to shine with a wicked, almost taunting glitter.
She went to the closet, where all her dresses for the week hung in garment bags, each labeled with a laminated tag. Impatiently she tugged on a hotel robe and tied it around her waist, then reached for her phone.
Daphne had assumed the call was from the wedding planner, or perhaps from Jefferson, but her phone said Unknown Caller. Whoever it was had left a voice mail. Daphne immediately clicked to listen.
“Hey, Daphne? It’s Rei. Call me when you get this.” She left a 1-800 number, which Daphne dialed at once.
Rei picked up on the second ring.
“Daphne! I’ve been trying to reach Ethan, but he’s not picking up.”
Because he was with me. “What’s happening?” Daphne asked impatiently.
“I finally hacked the firewall!” Rei exclaimed. “It belongs to the government, just like I suspected. Really tricky to get through without being detected, but I managed it.”