that was the final, ultimate humiliation. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow it. It would break her.
And Cecilia refused to let him break her. Not this time. Not again.
“I hope you enjoy camping alfresco, then,” she said instead, heading toward the door. “The pensione is closed this time of year. And you’re certainly not welcome to stay with me.”
She shot a look over her shoulder at him when she reached the door, because she was so damnably weak, and something caught at her. Pascal stood where she’d left him, so solitary, and yet so sure. As if he were a pillar that held up the world, or at least this church, and could stand like that forever.
He will, something in her whispered, making goose bumps break out all over her skin. You will never be rid of him again.
“Alternatively, you can always throw yourself on the mercy of the nuns,” she threw at him, hoping her desperation didn’t show on her face. Yet somehow sure that it did. “I’m sure they remember you all too well. But no worries. They took vows. If you ask them for sanctuary, I believe they’re duty bound to take you in.”
With that, Cecilia threw open the door to the vestry and escaped from her past. But she knew, even as she slammed the heavy door behind her and collapsed against it, that it was only temporary.
And there was no one to help her or save her now as it tightened around her throat and pulled tight, like a noose.
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