He also doesn’t look down on me because I don’t have a master’s degree in upper class etiquette like most of the women he’s been with.
For now, I’ve decided to stop looking at the past.
Stop searching for reasons why this has to end painfully.
Today we’re together and we’re smiling and we’regood.
Why ruin that by dwelling on tomorrow?
“Thrilling, Pages. Abandoning your fiancé for fictional characters. How can I ever compete?” he teases, though there’s something a bit distant in his voice.
“Well, I’m not sure any human man can measure up to a vintage set of Jane Austens.”
“Did you buy them?”
“No. They were way expensive, even if they could sell pretty fast at the store after we reopen,” I admit sadly. They werebeautiful,and still in their original bindings, but even with all the money Ethan pays me to marry him, I can’t justify cutting that deep into my own savings. “They were just too expensive.”
He frowns, giving me the side-eye.
“Hattie, don’t you know who you’re talking to?”
“If you’d loaned me your credit card…” I don’t finish that thought.
I just grin at him, but even though he smiles back, it doesn’t touch his eyes.
And when we’re stuck in thick city traffic, his hand doesn’t drift over to my thigh.
The rest of the drive feels oddly silent.
Ethan isn’t a blabbermouth, of course, but we’ve settled into this cute routine lately where we ask each other about our days and he teases me to death.
It usually ends in kissing. Lots of groping, if I’m lucky.
At the very least, smoldering eye contact and a smile that makes my heart combust.
Although I’m respecting his quiet today, I’m a little surprised his mood continues once we reach the restaurant.
Not even a smile.
It’s like we’ve taken a step back to when he was Scowly McScowlface and he didn’t want to spend a second with me longer than whatever this obligation calls for.
Weird.
The way his eyes lingered on my chest when I came out of the bedroom earlier suggests he hassomeinterest in being here with me tonight.
Why doesn’t that give me the usual warm glow?
Obviously, I want Ethan to want me—and he does.
Incessantly.
But I don’t want him tojustwant me for my body and the gravity-defying sex.
I want more.
I want him to want to open up like he did when he spilled his guts in all their bloody, sad glory.
When he told me about Taylor and I was convinced we were finally making progress.
