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“Aww. Does she want a cockmeat sandwich?”
“You’re a child. A literal child.”
“This coming from the girl who named her pussy Miss Kitty. However you decide to feed her, do it discreetly, please.”
“God, I hate you. How are we friends?”
“Because you scared everyone else away.” I lift my middle finger to the screen, making him laugh. “Oh! I just had an idea. Get back together with the giant, marry me, and keep him a secret for six months.”
“Six months! What the hell do you mean six months? Thad…”
“Oh. Got another call coming in, Lil. Talk later.”
“Thaddeus, don’t you dare…” He ends the call, leaving me fuming.
Fake or not, I can’t keep doing this for six months. I spent almost a year pretending I didn’t love Liam when anyone was around. Now, I’m pretending I love Thad when people are present. I know I got myself into this mess, but it’s not going the way I expected.
Not to mention, if we get married, fake or not, we’ll be expected to live together. I cannot live with that idiot. And I am not living with him while he parades women in and out. He’s a pro at discretion, but ew.
A knock on the door ends my mental tirade and makes my panic return as my head snaps toward the sound. “What?” I bark, then wince. Because regardless of the past, he hasn’t done anything to deserve my bitchiness today.
“We’re about fifteen minutes out, Lily.”
My shoulders lift with a heavy but quiet sigh. “All right.” I stand and check my reflection and try to smooth the chaos that is my hair from my fingers pulling at it.
Liam is already back in his seat when I get to mine. The niggle of concern I was trying to avoid returns when I see him in the same position as when I left. My cheek slips between my teeth as I watch him dig his thumbs into his temples as his fingers lace across his eyes. The words I try to contain slip free when my compassion beats out my need for distance. “Are you okay?”
His thumbs stay in his temples, but his hands shift. One eye stays close as he looks at me. “Just a headache, baby.” His fingers drop back over his eyes.
I ignore the baby remark, deciding it’s not the time to argue over nicknames or terms of endearment. “Since when do you get headaches?”
His mouth curls, tongue darting out to lick his lips. And, of fucking course, at the most inappropriate time, my core clenches knowing how that scruff feels on my skin and how well that tongue works my clit. Fuck.
“Since I was about sixteen or seventeen, I think. They come and go. There has just been more coming than going lately. Why? Are you worried about me, baby?”
“No.” I huff, lying through my teeth. It bothers me more than it should. “Why didn’t I know?”
“Because I never had one around you.” he lifts his shoulders. “It’s a headache, little flower. Not some life-threatening illness.”
But I’ve seen what certain types of headaches can do to people. My mom has gotten debilitating migraines for years. “Do they ever get… I mean…”
“I’m fine, Lily. Really. It’s not that bad. More annoying than painful. But yeah, I’ve had a few that keep me locked away for days.”
“Do you know your triggers?”
“Yep.”
I wait. And wait. When it’s clear he’s not going to answer, I ask, “What are they?”
“Flying.”
“Well, you don’t fly that often, so there must be something else.”
“Lily, can you just drop it?”
I could. I should. So why won’t I? It’s like the need to know consumes me. “Please.”
His chest rises and falls. He sits up in his seat, turns toward me, and twists his mouth. He sighs again as he meets my eyes. “Stress, Lily. Stress causes them.”
