I look at our hands. “I’m sorry Serena didn’t treat you like the prize you are.”
Silence folds in around us, quiet and comfortable. The hum of the engine vibrates softly beneath us. As much as I want to say more, want to rant and rip on Serena, I want to give him space, too. Space to think or open up. Whatever he needs.
After a long pause, he finally speaks. His voice is quiet. “I’ve never been anyone’s grand prize.” My chest squeezes at the pain in his voice. “I’m the guy people call when they need something. Serena only wanted me after Tucker left her. She needed someone to step in for Dakota, so I stepped in. I always step in.”
He pauses and swallows.
“I stayed home when my dad got hurt. Took care of everything because Mom was gone. And yeah, I’m glad she came back. I really am. But if she’d stayed, if Patty had come home instead, maybe I wouldn’t have been needed at all.”
He shakes his head like he’s trying to toss those thoughts out the window.
“I chose to be here for them. I don’t regret that. I just …” He trails off. Pauses for even longer. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not needed.”
My heart twists. Before I can stop myself, my words slip out.
“You’re someone worth loving. Period.”
I expect silence to follow that. It was kind of a mic-drop moment, if I do say so myself.
“You have to say that. You’re my wife,” he says.
Deflection? Interesting. I wonder if I hit too close to home. Pushed the bruise a little too much.
But also, him calling me his wife …
“No, Igetto say that.”
He smiles. “I like that you think I’m spectacularly hot. And that you went all Big Boss back there.”
I laugh, bumping my forehead on my knee. I roll my head toward him. “Something about you makes me get protective, I guess.”
“I bet that’s what you tell all the guys you kiss in bars and marry.”
I laugh again, still looking at him. Still holding his hand.
“Speaking of marriage, we never decided what we’re going to do about our last names. I think Sean Carville has a nice ring to it, don’t you?”
He snorts a laugh. “Is that how it’s gonna be?”
“That’s how itcouldbe. No one would blame you for taking my name. It’s a great name.”
“So is O’Shannan.”
I take in a deep, loud breath. “I’ve been worried about how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it: I’m actually Scottish, Sean. Not Irish.”
Sean’s laughter breaks loose, all traces of hurt gone from his face. “Ouch. Don’t tell my dad that. I think your hair is what sold him on you.”
“In that case, maybe we’ll hyphenate. Carville-O’Shannan. Rolls right off the tongue. Or O’Shannan-Carville. Or maybe a portmanteau—Carnan. O-Shanville.”
He chuckles. “O’Shanville. Definitely. That’s not weird at all.”
I’m too busy admiring his laugh to notice where we are until he stops in front of a restaurant.
A restaurant?—
Panic clamps onto my lungs. I don’t eat in front of people. Especially not restaurants full of people.
I’m about to beg Sean to turn around when he says, “I hope you like smoothies.”
