Page 47 of His Beauty
“But Rose?—”
“Rose’s death was not your fault. If you would justthinkabout it, you would know that is the truth!”
That’s what Keith had said.
And Phineas and Lysander, in their own ways.
The doctors had said it as well, and Da and Athena, when he’d had the courage to speak with them about it.
They’d all told him Rose’s death wasn’t his fault. So why hadn’t he believed them?
And why did he want to believe Bonnie so fiercely?
She shook her head almost sadly. “Lyon, I have a question for you. If there was a way to know if Rose’s actions of that day trulywereher choice, would you feel any different?”
His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Howcouldit? What she had just suggested was…
He shook his head.
She nodded.
“If that is the truth—if Rose’s death was her own choice—then your guilt, your denial of the love you are owed, is taking agency from a woman who knew her own mind.”
“I…I do not understand,” he confessed, not sure hewantedto.
“If Rose chose to die that day because her mind was not healthy, then you fighting her decision, you blaming yourself for it, makes her decision less worthy.”
“Nay!” The cry ripped from him, and he dropped his head into his palms. His second, “Nay,” emerged muffled.
Rosewouldn’thave made that choice…would she?
Softly, Bonnie’s gloved hands came to rest on his cheeks, cradling the smooth and the scarred alike.
“Lyon, I love you. I would consider myself the luckiest woman alive to be able to spend my life with you, and I would never want to leave. But if Ididmake that choice—to leave you, because I thought it was for the best—I would hope you would respect my decision.”
He moved his hands, capturing hers against his skin, and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. “Even if it broke me?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, and he knew he wasn’t speaking about Rose’s death.
But Bonnie nodded. “Even then. Because you would have to trust that I love you and would do nothing to hurt you unless it was absolutely necessary.”
And then Lyon…remembered.
He remembered how his wife’s personality had changed, slowly but surely, after the miscarriages. There’d been a third, only a week before her death, but she’d been abed recovering from it until the morning of her death. She’d spoken so often of her babies and their future, while Lyonhad held her hand and mourned, that he’d thought her getting out of bed to paint had been a good sign.
Had she been broken as well? Had she been so hurt, even his love couldn’t fix her?
Had she made the choice to leave him, even knowing it would hurt him, because she just couldn’t stand living any longer?
“Dear God,”he whispered harshly, his breath catching on a sob.
Bonnie wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing herself against him and offering all of herself. All he could do was wrap his arms around her and crush her against him, his lips finding her temple, pressing a kiss against her skin.
“Dear God,” he repeated, not sure what else to pray.
And then, he didn’t have to.
Because Bonnie had lifted herself up on her toes and captured his lips with hers, andshewas kissing him with all the innocent desire and love he could stand. His blood fired once more, for an entirely different reason, and he was lost.
Lost in her lips.
