“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.”
The words seemed to hum in the charged air. “You’re saying . . .”
“I’m saying I’m the last Moon girl.”
“So no husband and no kids. Sounds pretty final.”
“It’s meant to.”
“It also sounds lonely.”
Lizzy shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s the only fair thing to do. Women worry about passing on all sorts of things to their daughters—bad skin, wide hips, a latent crippling illness. I don’t worry about those things. I worry about bringing a little girl into the world who has to hide who she is, who’s afraid to make friends and doesn’t fit in anywhere. I lived that life growing up. I won’t do it to a daughter of mine.”
“At the risk of sounding presumptuous, it is possible to marry and skip the kids. Lots of couples do.”
“Yes they do, but it’s not just about kids. It’s all of it. Marriage is hard enough when both people are normal. But I’m not normal. My family’s legacy isn’t a liability I’m willing to foist on either a husband or a child. That’s what I meant by complications. No . . . attachments.”
Andrew arched a brow. “Luc wasn’t a complication?”
Lizzy sighed, knowing just how bizarre all this must sound to someone like Andrew, who’d grown up in a family that always colored inside the lines. “Luc wasn’t anything. He didn’t have expectations about us, and neither did I. That’s why it was safe. He didn’t want the white picket fence and the minivan. But you’re not like Luc. You want something I can’t give. And I want something I can’t have.”
Andrew’s face softened, and a slow smile appeared. “All I heard you say just then was that you want me. I did just hear that, right?”
“I was speaking figuratively.”
“Were you?”
Lizzy stared at him without blinking. To falter now would be unfair. “Yes.”
He touched her cheek, brushing it lightly before dropping his hand. “Just as well. This isn’t exactly how I imagined our first romantic encounter—in a barn.”
Lizzy felt her cheeks go pink. “You imagined a romantic encounter with me?”
“I was eighteen years old. And male. Of
