The side door led into a back hallway of the hotel.

“You’re upset with me,” Abena said tentatively.

Undisguised fury wreaked from Marc’s stiff movements. His brow lowered in an angry line above his eyes. “You’re an intelligent woman, Abena. What do you think?” He paced away from her. “This is why it took forever for you to settle on a firm date for our wedding. Because of him, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

His hazel eyes flashed at her. “Don’t bullshit me, Abena!”

She flinched.

“I know you well enough to know you’re not being completely honest.” He started pacing the carpet again in the small space. “All this time I believed the postponement and the indecision were because of me. Maybe you weren’t sure about us. Maybe I needed to set aside more time to show how much I appreciated you, how much I really wanted to marry you. My ex-wife used to complain I took myself too seriously, so I tried my damnedest to loosen up and be different with you. To lighten up and have fun. To listen when you talk. But I’m not the problem.” He pointed at his chest, and then at the closed door. “He is. He’s the reason we’re not married yet.”

Abena shook her head vehemently. “You’re wrong. I explained to you the reason why I couldn’t move forward with a date. We have one now.”

“Picking a date for your wedding should not have been such a complicated task.”

“Why are we still talking about this? I explained I have a lot of work to do, and since Esteban got married, he’s put more responsibility on me. I’ve been working with his wife, I had to work with Santiago to help him get settled and make sure the transfer of duties and tasks was a smooth one. This is a huge operation, and my role is varied and ever-changing.”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Marc rolled back on his heels with a chuckle. “Maybe you’ve managed to fool yourself into believing what you just said, but you can’t fool me. Not anymore.”

“I’m wearing your ring.” Abena held up her hand and showed him. “We’re going to get married. I simply needed to work through a few things first.”

“What things?”

“Work things. Is working hard and having a crazy schedule really so hard for you to understand?”

“Have you been listening at all to anything I’ve said to you?” Marc’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think is going to happen here tonight? Can you guess?”

Fear twisted in her gut. Speaking slowly and calmly, she said, “I think we’re going back inside to enjoy our evening with the rest of the guests. At the end of the night, we’ll go back to your place and discuss this matter in private. Right now is not the time or place to have this conversation.”

“This matter?” Marc ran his hand over his head and laughed bitterly. “We should have discussed this months ago. A year ago! But every time I’ve tried to pin you down about our wedding, you came up with a spectacular reason why we couldn’t discuss it.”

“Not true.” Abena folded her arms across her chest. Their conversation was going nowhere, and the more they talked, the more agitated Marc became. “I simply didn’t want to argue with you.”

“We shouldn’t have been arguing. I’m as busy as you are. I’m a goddamn doctor and part owner in my family’s clinic. Yet somehow I managed to carve out time to discuss our wedding plans and our future together, but you couldn’t. You know what, I’ve known this was a problem for months, but I’m the fool who pretended not to notice the signs.”

“There were no signs.”

“There were plenty of signs, sweetheart,” Marc grated. “Aside from not wanting to discuss the issue and putting off the date. You’re not excited about getting married to me. I haven’t seen you collecting wedding magazines or preparing any Pinterest boards like other prospective brides. My best friend Jeff got engaged after you and I did, and I have to listen to him complain about the constant questions and pictures his fiancée shows him. Me, I have no complaints. You’re completely disinterested. So please, tell me, how can I be wrong, when everything I see from you suggests you have no desire to marry me and the whole prospect of planning our wedding is a chore.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And after tonight, I’m pretty sure the reason for your disinterest is Santiago Vila.”

“He and I hate each other. I can’t stand him.”

“Why?” Marc narrowed his eyes as he studied her.

Under his scrutiny, her cheeks heated up.

“Are you going to answer the question or not?” Marc asked in a hard tone.

“We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“That’s it? You disagree about work-related issues? Or is there something else? Something I sense? I’m not an idiot, Abena. Your anger is definitely more than not seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. The animosity between the two of you is tangible, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed. So tell me, what’s the truth? I deserve to know.”

Abena swallowed. “It’s complicated,” she muttered.

“Uncomplicate it for me.”

She licked her lips, her eyes darting toward the closed door, wishing someone would exit and interrupt them, and free her from this terribly difficult conversation. “Santiago and I…we…we kissed once.”

The room fell so silent she heard his breathing. “You only kissed?”

Abena couldn’t look at him. Staring at the colorful carpet, she wrapped her arms around her waist to protect against the deafening silence.

“What else, Abena?” Marc asked.

She braced for his anger. “He…um, put his mouth on me.”

“Where?”

Abena briefly closed her eyes. “Please don’t make me say this.”

“Where, Abena? Where did the vice president put his mouth on you?”

The carpet became her focus again. “My breasts and—”she took a deep breath, “—between my legs,” she finished in a small voice.

The space went quiet again.

“You had oral sex with him?” Marc finally asked, his voice sounding strangled.

“Yes. No. I mean, he did it to me.” She lifted her gaze and bore the brunt of his accusatory stare.

“He went down on you and you never thought to mention that little bit of information? And you see this man on a daily basis?” His face twisted into an ugly mask of disgust.

“It only happened once.”

“Do you think it really matters?” Marc hollered.

Abena winced.

Marc covered his face with his hands and took a few deep, calming breaths. When he spoke again, he’d lowered his voice. “Whether he went down on you once or twice, you had sexual contact with him and didn’t tell me. And you work with this guy.” He ran an angry hand over his head and twisted away from her.

In the silence, she heard the distant sound of the party in full swing as the band started playing an upbeat tune. She wished she was back in the ballroom, away from the sordid confession and the collapse of her relationship.

This was the end. Marc would never forgive her. He was going to leave her.

He swung around to face her. “Is that really all you’ve done, or have you been fucking him all along while I sat on my hands trying to be a good boy?”

“No! Of course not.”

“So when did you and he have this oral hookup?”

“Can we please postpone this argument for another time?”

Marc came closer, his stance intimidating. Abena backed up into the wall. She shouldn’t have come in here alone with him. Once again her gaze jumped to the door, wondering if anyone would come through.

“When?”

She swallowed past the panic knotted in her throat. “Wh-when you and I were on a break.”

“Did you think that’s what the break was about? Giving you a chance to try out other flavors? Letting another man put his hands and mouth all over you?”

Abena shook her head. “No,” she said in a faint voice.

“While I kept thinking I would be the only one?”

She understood him being upset, but the level of his rage seemed unfounded. They had been on a break. A break he had asked for.

“Are you telling me you didn’t see anyone else during the time we were apart?” She found that hard to believe. She found it hard to believe he wasn’t sleeping with anyone now, during the almost two years they’d been engaged, but she wanted to believe he remained celibate. She wanted to believe that’s what made him so special—his patience. His respect for her decision to wait.

“You are in no position to question me.” Marc stepped back. “Are you still attracted to him?”

She opened her mouth to speak, uncertain what exactly the answer would be. Her hesitation caused Marc’s eyes to flash with ire.

“You’re attracted to him,” he said with certainty. “And he’s damn well attracted to you.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to answer.”

“You had plenty of time to answer a simple question which required a yes or no. But you couldn’t answer me, and your hesitation spoke volumes.” He chuckled bitterly. “You force my hand to get a proposal by holding out on sex, and then you don’t even want to get married.”

“I did not force your hand.”

“I feel like an idiot,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“There’s no reason for you to feel like an idiot.” Abena slid along the wall, putting a bit of distance between them. “What happened between Santiago and I was nothing. Maybe…maybe there are some remnants of attraction for him, but that’s to be expected. Just because you and I are engaged doesn’t mean we won’t find other people attractive. We’re not dead. You can’t tell me you don’t continue to find your ex-wife attractive.”

“Whether or not I find my ex-wife attractive is irrelevant,” Marc seethed. “I don’t see my ex-wife damn near every day. I don’t see her at all. The few times we have run into each other over the years, I certainly wasn’t getting into tension-filled arguments that displayed to everyone within a ten-foot radius how much I wanted to have sex with her. That’s basically what you and Santiago did tonight, by the way. You want to have sex with each other, and it’s causing so much tension the two of you act like you hate each other.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not.” He glared at her, a swirl of pain and anger in the depths of his eyes. “I know I’m a good catch, Abena. But tell me, are you in love with me, or the idea of me?”

“I can’t believe you would ask me such a question.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t answer.”

Silence.

She stared at him, and the doubts resurfaced. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him, or herself.

“Damn, Abena.” His voice sounded resigned and heavy with pain.

Remorse assailed her conscience, and tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’m sorry. I-I care about you, I do. But sometimes, I have doubts. And it doesn’t make any sense because you’re perfect, and I don’t know where the doubts are coming from.”

She needed him to believe her. She wasn’t some heartless person out to hurt him. If they hadn’t taken a break, if she never would have allowed Santiago to touch her so intimately, she wouldn’t be so conflicted. Being with Marc should be an easy decision. Other women would be glad to be in her place.

“The doubts are because you want him.” Marc swore under his breath. “My father suggested you would be a good wife because you came from Ghana. The kind of woman who knew her place. You even come in a nice package.” He braced one hand on the wall above her. “But you’re nothing but a mirage. Pretty on the outside, but inside, rotten to the core.”

Bitterness rose to the back of her throat. “So you wanted someone docile and easily controlled?”

“Guess I got fooled.” His response was a slap in the face. He’d believed the stereotype some people carried of African women, and the fact that she came from a small village only reinforced his beliefs and cemented his expectations.

“Go ahead and screw him, Abena. Obviously you want to, and he wants to screw you. This relationship is over.” He pushed away from her.

“I’m not looking for someone to screw. I want a meaningful relationship.” That’s why she and Santiago could never work.

“And you and I don’t have a meaningful relationship.” Marc laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “Really, go all the way and sleep with him. Put yourself out of your misery. As for me, I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been understanding. I’ve been patient. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to continue to wait for you while you long for another man, waiting until the day he invites you into his bed. You were never going to marry me.”

“You’re wrong,” Abena said, making one last effort to save face.

“No, I’m not. I’m so certain I’m right, I bet Mr. Vice President would kick his date out of bed if you gave the slightest inclination you were interested in sleeping with him tonight. He’d jump at the chance.” He marched to the door.

“What am I supposed to tell my family? My friends?”

Marc’s mouth twisted into a rueful expression. “Try the truth for a change.”

And with those damning words, he walked out the door.