Page 136 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
My spoon froze mid-air, half a scoop of ice cream suspended there, melting slowly, dripping down.
These past few weeks, my life had been stuck on some kind of loop.
Every Saturday at ten a.m., I showed up at that house. Sometimes we went to the amusement park, sometimes the Natural History Museum, sometimes just to the lawn in Central Park to lie in the sun. Juliet loved pulling me along while she ran, loved making me watch her cartwheel on the grass, loved shoving every pretty leaf she found into my palm.
I didn't expect her to ask this.
I thought we'd keep this distance forever—teacher and student, meeting once a week, spending the allotted time together, separating when that time ended. I thought Juliet would get used to this rhythm, would see me as someone she liked but who would eventually leave.
"My house is really big," she went on, gesturing with her little hands. "There's tons of rooms, you could stay next to mine! That way I'd see you when I wake up and before I go to sleep!"
"Juliet..."
"And Daddy would definitely say yes! He likes you!" She got more excited, sliding off her chair and running over to me, tilting her head up. "I can tell! He smiles every time he looks at you, even though he thinks I don't notice, but I notice!"
My spoon clinked softly against the cup.
Ezio. These past few weeks, he had changed.
He'd take my bag when Juliet ran ahead, hand me a bottle of water when we got tired, glance at me when Juliet begged for a second ice cream, waiting for my nod before giving in. He no longer looked at me with that cold, scrutinizing stare, but with something else I couldn't quite name—cautious, tentative, like he was waiting for me to give him a signal.
"I have my own things to take care of," I heard myself say.
Her smile faded a little. She looked down, fingers twisting the rabbit's ears.
"Oh," she said quietly. "Okay then."
Her disappointment felt like a needle sliding into my chest.
But I couldn't say yes.
I couldn't.
Two months.
Two months left until the contract ended.
Two months, and I'd be gone.
Gone from this city, gone from that house, gone from—from her.
She didn't know.
She thought I'd keep coming, keep staying with her, keep showing up every week to eat desserts, go to the park, do everything she wanted to do.
But I wouldn't.
In three months, I'd vanish.
Just like five years ago.
"Vivi?" Juliet's voice pulled me back. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I said, forcing a smile. "Just—just thinking about something."
"What?"
"Grown-up stuff."
