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Chapter 18
Tilly
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” Blaine grips my face in his smooth hands, planting a kiss on my lips.
“Thank you.” I smile and run my hands over the hideous beige dress I paired with a blue jean jacket to make me feel halfway normal.
“I missed you. You ok from last night?” He asks.
“Oh, I’m fine. Car is at the mechanic. I rode with Adam and Bekka.”
They had slipped in and went to the bar to meet Jace and Camille.
He nods then laces our hands together. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.”
He leads me to the side of the building. “Mom insisted their driver bring them, so they should be here shortly.”
“You could have come last night or this morning?” I ask.
“No, I was busy.” He moves me in front of him.
“Doing what? I thought you just had a dinner meeting and nothing today?” I press.
His eyes rake down my body, and just when I think he’s dying to get his hands on me, he reaches out, but it’s not to touch me or pull me into him. It's to slip off my jacket.
“Let’s get this thing off,” he says as he shimmies it down my arms. “Better.” He lays it over his elbow.
“Blaine, I asked you a question,” I try again.
“I’m not sure why you’re trying to pick a fight. I’m here, aren’t I? Having dinner at this place with your family?” He waves a hand towards The Peak.
Am I starting a fight? On purpose? Maybe he’s right. My brain has been scrambled since last night.
I close my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. You had a rough evening. Now, I want to ask you something.”
“Ok.” I nod, already a little irritated that he just de-clothed me in public like I had on rags and refused to tell me what he was doing since last night.
“Can we try to speak verbally tonight?” His hand runs up my arm like I’m a child he’s delivering bad news to.
“I’m sorry? What?” I tilt my head.
“I mean, my parents don’t know sign language and I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.”
I’m almost stunned speechless.
“You don’t know sign language. Does it make you uncomfortable?” I lift a brow.
“Of course not, babe.” He leans into place a kiss on my forehead. “But my mother in particular can be a little, rash. She may see it as an imperfection, and I don’t want her upsetting you.”
I froze.
Imperfection.
Like I won’t be good enough. Like me being deaf and wanting to sign in loud places is such a travesty.
