He felt cold, so cold that ice water seemed to rush in his veins, circulate through shivering muscles, and pool in his chest. Neil replaced the unread pages exactly where he'd found them. Didn't matter what they said. Didn't even matter that he'd been a stupid dupe who spilled his secrets on the pillow he shared with her eager ears. Didn't matter if she'd planted a tape recorder to save herself the trouble of taking notes. Didn't matter because she'd said she loved him. But that must have been a lie, too, because if she truly loved him, the way he loved her, she never would have played him for a sucker. Such a sucker he'd renounced the Vow, gotten into her head and lost his, listened to her cheating heart and served his to her on a platter of trust. He'd played it straight with Andrea, laid the rules out nice and clean: Love without trust didn't exist for him. Didn't take a mathematician to figure out where that left them. He turned to the bed, mechanically picking up her things that had lost all sense of familiarity.
