“Shouldn’t you be with your fiancé? Celebrating the upcoming nuptials?”
The growly quality in his voice made something warm stir low in her abdomen. She cleared her throat. “He’s out there with Patch.”
The alcohol honesty chose that moment to rear its ugly head. “You aren’t much of a conversationalist, are you, Santiago Flores?” She wanted to hear more of that rumbly voice.
“You want conversation?” The words sounded like a threat. “Then by all means, let’s converse. Do you really want to marry Roman?”
This conversation again. Joy. Lila sighed, resigned. “It’s doesn’t matter what I want. It’s what I’m going to do.”
“Are you really such a martyr?” That lovely growl was back in his voice.
“It’s not martyrdom.” She was certain it wasn’t. She just couldn’t seem to think past all the alcohol to figure out why precisely.
“So you don’t think you’re giving anything up, is that it?”
That was it. No sacrifice. How helpful he was. “Exactly. What would I be giving up?”
“A thousand opportunities.” He spun to face her, dark eyes flashing in the night, all that contained ferocity suddenly erupting with startling intensity. “The chance to be something more than what others would make you.”
“So I can be what you would make me instead?” She turned to face him head on, throwing her chin back to growl up at him. “Everyone wants me to be their version of what I should be. Even you.”
“Then what do you want? Who do you want to be?”
“I don’t know! Don’t you see? If I wanted something more than this life, maybe I would go after it, maybe I would be brave, by your definition of the word, but I don’t. I never have. So what’s so terrible about what I’m doing? What am I giving up, Santiago Flores? What is supposed to stop me from doing what I’ve always known I would when the time came? What is it you think I’m supposed to want?”