“Have you met yours?” I wanted to shake myself. My heart did it for me, though. It quivered so wildly it made my rib cage tremble. His gaze flicked to the food cooling on the coffee table, stayed there. “I have met mine.” My heart dipped and stilled, and so did my trembling. “I thought—When?” “Years ago.” His jaw ticked. Once. Twice. Years ago . . .? Had he lost her? Was this why he was so bitter about relationships? “Why didn’t you marry her?” “Because she wasn’t eligible.”
