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pocket watch at his hip, hair hanging inhis eyes. I could see his profile in the mirror on top of Mother’s armoire, his straight brows pinched, full bottom lip clutched in his teeth.
    â€œI . . . umm,” he mumbled, then looked up at me. Nerves curled in my stomach, forbidding the rest of my body to move. I stared at him—at the somber eyes and lips that had paused on an unspoken word. He held my gaze. “Ginny, I love you.” His words shocked my heart and warmed me through. I’d wanted to hear him say it for so many years, sentiments I’d long felt but propriety forbid me to say. He wouldn’t marry Miss Kent. He loved me. He’d come back to me. I reached down to take his hand. Clammy with sweat, his fingers were limp against mine.
    â€œCharlie,” I whispered. “I love you, too. I always have.” He smiled thinly and looked down at our linked hands. “What is it?” He squeezed my hand so hard I flinched, and hugged me.
    â€œI love you, Gin,” he said into my hair, “but I . . . I have to marry her.” I pushed him away and he stumbled back, catching himself against the wall.
    â€œNo, actually. You don’t. You coward!” Heat burned my cheeks. He’d given me hope only to crush it once again. “Why would you bother coming here? Why would you tell me you love me if it doesn’t matter?” I snapped, backing away from him. “To make yourself feel better?” My hands clenched at my side. His eyes were glassy, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and stared down at his shoes. “You can explain yourself or you can get out,” I said. Physically too weak to yell at him, anger still churned through me, stealing what little strength I had. Charlie straightened and started toward me. I put my hand out to stop him.
    â€œGinny, you know we don’t have any money.”
    â€œWe don’t either,” I said. My neck felt tight. “We barely haveenough to spare for food by the time our bills are paid, but we’re happy. How does that—”
    â€œI . . . I haven’t told you everything.” He cleared his throat to compose himself. “Mother and Father . . . when they got married they didn’t have the money to buy a house. My father’s uncle, Harry, offered to buy it for them on the condition that they’d pay him back. It was working out fine, but now without Father, we can’t afford it. The Review pays so minimally for my drawings that we’re four payments behind. Harry’s company folded a few months back. If we don’t reimburse him in full by next month, he’ll have to sell the house. Mother won’t have anywhere to go. If I marry, we’re saved. The initial three thousand from Rachel’s father will pay Harry off and then when I inherit the estate and ten thousand from Rachel’s family—”
    â€œI don’t want to hear her name,” I said. He tried to take my outstretched hand but I snatched it away. “Don’t touch me.”
    â€œI don’t love her,” he whispered. “My heart. You have it.” He put his palm on the silk above my chest.
    â€œThen marry me instead and risk ruin,” I said. “We could find other jobs. Your mother could move in with us if she had to.” I removed his hand from my chest, feeling the cold air rush over my skin with its absence. He didn’t say anything, but closed his eyes and shook his head.
    â€œYou know she’d never agree to that,” he said finally. “Our home is all she has left of my father, of George.”
    â€œThen you’ve made your choice.”
    â€œNo. I can’t. I don’t want to lose you . . . please, Gin.”
    â€œWhat would you have me do? Wait for years until Rachel dies? Be your mistress?” He looked up from the floor and his body went