Page 167 of The Love Operation

“I guess I’m trying to understand why you’d convince the committee I wasn’t right for chief—if you truly believed I was.”

He sets his fork down carefully, like he’s defusing a bomb. “Cord,” he starts but then doesn’t continue. He looks down at the table, then back up at me.

“I just want to understand,” I say. “Why would you tell them that I was too reactive, too green?”

His face falls. “Tenpenny told you?”

I close my eyes. He’s not denying it. There was still a sliver of me hoping Tenpenny was wrong.

“He said he thought I should know.”

He bows his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You thought sabotaging me was the right thing?”

“No. I swear, Cord, no. I love you. I want a life with you, a family, and I know what that role would do to you—to us. I thought . . . if I voted against you, if I quietly let it go another direction, life would be easier.”

I stare at him. “You really didn’t think I’d find out?”

“I didn’t think you’d get the job, and then . . . why would you?”

My eyes threaten to bug out of my head. “Isaac, I trusted you, and you lied to me.”

He rubs his hands over his face, visibly unraveling. “I want to build something with you. That job would’ve taken all of you. There would’ve been nothing left for the people who love you.”

“And you couldn’t have just talked to me about it?”

“Have you met you?” he asks with a sardonic laugh, as if he had no other choice. “Would you have listened if I had?”

“I guess we’ll never know, will we? Because you made the choice without me.”

“You believed you could do it all. I didn’t think you could. I want a wife, Cord, a mother to my children. I didn’t want to lose you to ambition.”

“But you were willing to lose me to betrayal?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

I push my chair back. “You didn’t choose me, Isaac. You managed me. And I’m done being managed.”

As soon as I say it, I realize: I’m Isaac. I’ve told people what’s best for them. I’ve made decisions for them. I’ve tried to love people by controlling the outcome.

And now I know how it feels.

It’s not love. It’s good intentions turned sour. But you can’t control the future. My mom is proof.

Isaac thought he was protecting me. Maybe he even believed it. But love isn’t supposed to make you small.

“This can’t be the end,” he says, desperation creeping in. “Surely you see why I did it—because I love you and want more of you.”

I pause, then nod. “Actually, I do. Because I’ve done stuff like this too. Maybe not as intentionally, but I’ve crossed lines. Still . . . I never would’ve thrown someone under the bus the way you did me.”

“Cordelia—”

“No, Isaac. We’re done. But it would’ve ended tonight regardless. Even if I hadn’t found out.”

His eyes search mine. “Why?”

“Because earlier today, I made the wrong choice.”