He'd been thinking — if he was going to break things off, he wished he could have left her with at least one more pleasant memory. He'd been thinking — if this was the last time he talked to her, he wanted to at least hold her again. He'd been thinking — if today was the end, then what did it matter what her family thought? He'd been thinking —

But then she said she loved him. In his language — she'd practiced the phrase, he realized, thought about how to say it, prepared it for the right moment, and she thought this was the moment. He didn't deserve the sentiment, or the effort she'd put in to learn how to express it — but he could hardly call the wedding off now. Not in the same breath that she had said I love you. He'd have to do it later, he'd have to do it eventually, but he didn't need to ruin this moment for her. He was going to leave her with so little, when he left — he could at least leave her with this.

"Valencia," he breathed, already leaning in to kiss her again.

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