King of Wrath (Kings of Sin #1) by Ana Huang

I sank onto the bed. The tightness spread from my throat to my chest.

It was stupid to feel sad. So what if Dante had proposed in the most impersonal way possible? I’d known since our first meeting we wouldn’t mesh. At least he’d been honest about his intentions and boundaries.

Still, a part of me had hoped our previous interactions were flukes and we would gradually warm up to each other, but no. My future husband was simply a jerk.

The buzz of a new text interrupted my wallowing.

I picked up my phone, expecting another congratulatory message or a reminder from Isabella to invite her over once I settled in.

Instead, I saw a text from the last person I’d expected to hear from.

Heath: Happy Pumpkin Hot Chocolate Day :)

I stared at the words, waiting for them to disappear like I’d accidentally conjured them. They didn’t.

My stomach twisted.

Of all the days he could’ve texted out of the blue, it had to be today, right after I moved into Dante’s house.

The universe possessed a sick sense of humor.

There were a million things I wanted to say, but I stuck with something safe and neutral.

Me: Do they have those in California?

Heath: Pumpkin hot chocolate? Nah

Heath: You’re only allowed to drink smoothies and green juices here or you’ll get voted off the island

My small smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

We shouldn’t be talking, but I couldn’t bring myself to block him.

Heath: I’ve been emailing Bonnie Sue’s every day asking them to open shop in SF, but no dice so far

A pang hit me at the mention of Bonnie Sue’s.

It was a popular cafe near Columbia, where Heath and I had attended undergrad. It was famous for its seasonal pumpkin hot chocolate, and even though I didn’t like pumpkin and he didn’t like hot chocolate, we’d showed up every year for its annual return in mid-September.

Forget the fall equinox; the real first day of fall was the day the drink reappeared on Bonnie Sue’s menu.

Me: It’ll happen. Persistence always wins

Guilt ballooned in my chest as Heath and I exchanged more small talk. He asked about my job and the city; I asked about his dog and the weather in San Francisco.

It was our longest conversation in years. Normally, we only texted each other on holidays and birthdays, and we never talked on the phone. It was easier to pretend we were casual acquaintances that way even though we were anything but.

Heath Arnett.

My college best friend. My ex-boyfriend. And my first love.

Once upon a time, I thought we’d get married. I’d convinced myself we would overcome my parents’ objections and live happily ever after, but our breakup two years ago proved my hopes had been just that—hopes. Flimsy and insubstantial in the face of my parents’ wrath.

I shook off memories of that day and tried to refocus.

Me: How’s your company doing?

After our breakup, Heath moved to California and expanded his language-learning app into the powerhouse it was today. The last time I checked, it was one of the top fifteen most downloaded apps in the U.S.

Heath: Pretty amazing. We’re going public at the end of this year

Heath: We’re expecting a big IPO. Perhaps…

The three dots that indicated he was typing popped up, disappeared, then popped up again.

Heath: We can revisit things after it does

My guilt hardened into dread.

He didn’t know about the engagement. I hadn’t posted about it online, we didn’t have mutual friends anymore, and Heath didn’t follow the society pages, which meant I had to tell him. I couldn’t lie by omission and let him think there was a chance of us getting back together.

Heath: If you want to, of course

I could practically see him pushing his hand through his hair the way he always did when he was nervous.

My teeth dug into my bottom lip.

I knew part of the reason he’d worked so hard on the startup was to prove my parents wrong. They’d been furious when they found out I’d kept our relationship from them for years and even more furious when they discovered Heath didn’t come from an “appropriate” background.

At the time, he’d made a good living as a software engineer who’d worked on his app on the side, but he wasn’t a Russo or a Young. My father had threatened to disown me if I didn’t end things with Heath, and in the end, I’d chosen family over love.

Heath probably thought my parents would change their minds after his company went public and he became a millionaire. I didn’t have the heart to tell him they wouldn’t.

My family had plenty of money, but we were nouveau riche. No matter how much we donated to charity or how many zeroes we had in our bank accounts, certain parts of society would always remain closed to us…unless we married into old money.

Heath would never be old money, which meant my parents would never approve of him as a love match.

Just tell him.

I eased a deep breath into my lungs before I bit the bullet.

Me: I’m engaged

It wasn’t the smoothest transition, but it was short, clear, and direct.

I resisted falling back into my childhood habit of biting my nails while I waited for a reply.

It never came.

Me: It happened a few weeks ago. My parents set it up.

Me: I meant to tell you earlier

I should stop, but I couldn’t hold back my text version of word vomit.