The Last of the Moon Girls(81)

His grin slipped, his voice suddenly thick. “Neither am I.”

She flinched when he touched her face, a single knuckle tracing the curve of her cheek. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, hard to pull her gaze from his. “I mean it, Andrew. This isn’t me being coy. What I said before, about not letting myself want what other people have—it’s real. I’m not like most women. I’m not chasing happily-ever-after. I’m . . . different.”

Andrew dropped his hand to his side, but his eyes remained locked with hers. “You think I don’t know that? That you’re . . . different? I’ve lived next to you my whole life. How could I not know?”

“But you don’t, Andrew. Not really. If you did—”

“You’re wrong,” he said, with a strange intensity. “I do know. I’ve always known. The first time I saw you, the first instant . . . I knew you weren’t like anyone else.”

Something about the way he’d paused for just a beat, the way he’d held her gaze when he said it, as if confirming something they both already knew, set off alarm bells in her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just meant . . .”

“I know, Lizzy.” He relaxed visibly as the words left his mouth, as if he’d been holding them in for a long time, and was relieved to finally say them aloud. “I’ve always known. About you. About all the Moons. I know.”

Lizzy froze. It was in his face, his eyes, his words. He did know. Somehow. All of it. Who she was. What she was. Who and what they all were. But how? Had Althea let something slip? Had Evvie?

“How?” she whispered. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just . . . do.”

“For how long?”

“Honestly? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know. It was just a fact, like the sun coming up in the morning. There’s a light inside you, Lizzy. Althea had it too. And your mother. It’s what makes you a Moon—that light.”

Lizzy flashed him a look, stunned that they were talking about this at all. “You say it like it’s a good thing, like I’ve been blessed or something. All I ever wanted was to be like other people, to have an ordinary life. Instead . . .”

Andrew cut her off with a shake of his head. “You’ll never be like other people, Lizzy. Which is why you had me wrapped around your finger when I was eighteen.” He took a step forward, cutting the distance between them in half. “And why you still have me wrapped around your finger.”

Lizzy clenched her hands into fists to keep them from trembling. He was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the subtle cleft in his chin, the glint of stubble along his jawline. How was this happening? She’d never planned for something like this—or for someone like Andrew. He knew. He knew, and he was going to kiss her anyway.

And she was going to let him—even if it cost her everything.

The ground fell away as his arms came around her, cinching tightly about her waist. She swayed against him, hands pressed to his chest, and briefly met his gaze. His lips were soft as they met hers, tentative, as if seeking permission. She gave it willingly, melting into him as the kiss sparked and caught fire. The consummation was both new and terrifying.

Stop. Stop this while you still can.

Lizzy heard the warnings but shoved them down. She needed this. Needed him. Now, for just this moment, she needed to be who he thought she was—the girl with the light inside her.

Except she wasn’t that girl, and it wasn’t fair to let him think she was.

She pulled out of his arms and dragged in a breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

Andrew took a step back, eyes clouded with confusion.

Lizzy pressed a hand to her lips, mortified. How could she have been so stupid? “I’m so sorry, Andrew. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I mean, I did obviously, but then I didn’t. My life’s just so upside-down right now. I don’t need any more complications.”

“No complications,” he said, nodding stiffly. “Got it.”

His tone stung, but he had every right to be annoyed. She’d given him the green light, then slammed on the brakes. “You think you know all about me, but you don’t. Before, when I said I wasn’t chasing happily-ever-after, I was actually talking about all of us—all the Moons. We don’t get . . . attached. We have one job, to produce a daughter to carry on our legacy. Romance doesn’t enter into it.”

“So . . . no husband.”

She swallowed hard, not sure she was ready to have this conversation, but he was waiting for an answer. “It’s . . . less messy that way,” she said thickly. “For everyone.” She looked down at her hands, her shoes, anywhere but at Andrew. “You were right, we are different. But not in a good way. People call us wicked. They blame us for everything, and treat us like lepers. Sooner or later, that rubs off on the people we love—like a stain.” She paused, shrugging. “It’s only a matter of time until everything’s poisoned.”

“So why bother?”

Lizzy nodded. “Why bother.”

Andrew blew out a long breath. “And you’re okay with that? Raising a daughter on your own someday, in order to fulfill some ancient custom?”

“I’m not, in fact. Which is why the legacy will end with me.”