"You told Reggie that only the one wearing the shoes knows if they fit. So tell me—do you believe we're a good match?"

Lyndon's question left Tilda momentarily at a loss, her mind scrambling for words.

She had only tossed that comment out to deter Reggie.

Yet deep down, setting aside their recent turmoil, she still believed Lyndon was her perfect match.

"Your silence speaks volumes," Lyndon observed, his gaze intensifying. "Was that just something to shake Reggie off your trail? I see. You've harbored resentment toward me for so long, so I can hardly expect to be the right person in your eyes."

Tilda met his gaze unflinchingly. "What about you? What am I to you? Are these feelings genuine, or merely the product of family obligation?"

A shadow crossed Lyndon's face. "Why would you question that? Initially, yes-I married you because I needed a wife. But gradually, you wove yourself into the fabric of my life. You've become the partner I want beside me, always."

Partner. The word resonated within her. Only those sharing true love could claim such a title.

Her heart fluttered. "Am I now the woman you cherish most?" Lyndon's lips curved into a subtle smile. "Yes."

"And Rosa?" The question escaped before she could stop herself.

Lyndon studied her, the silence stretching between them before he finally spoke. "You want me to say I love you more than Rosa, don't you? I won't deceive you, Tilda. You're my partner, but Rosa remains the most important woman in my life."

Regret washed over Tilda immediately. What a foolish inquiry. She'd backed herself into a corner of humiliation.

Rosanna. The most important woman in his life. Above all others.

An inexplicable tightness gripped Tilda's chest as the warmth between them evaporated.

Feigning nonchalance, she fixed her gaze on distant skyscrapers. "Just idle curiosity. I know exactly where I stand."

"Are you upset?" Lyndon asked, studying her profile. "Not at all."

"Tilda," he said softly. "I want honesty between us. That's why I can't lie to you. I hope you'll offer me the same courtesy."

Tilda forced a smile and managed a noncommittal hum.

In that moment, she realized sometimes white lies served a purpose.

Truth often left deeper wounds.

Suppressing the ache in her heart, Tilda pulled the car to the curb. "We've arrived."

"Come up with me," Lyndon said.

She blinked in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"To keep me company."