“Not yourself.” Shit, she looked tired. He hoped she’d let himdrive them the rest of the way to Berkeley. “I get it. Well, now I do, anyway.”
He’d make it up to her. When she saw her mother again—ifshe saw her mother again—he’d do whatever she needed. Be whatever she needed.
And in the meantime, he’d give her all the love he could.
He’d give her love because she deserved it, and because he couldn’t help it. He was so fucking smitten with her, his adoration spilled from him like water from a fountain or blood from a wound. He exhaled love with every breath. It floated behind him with each step, bright as fireflies in the dark of night.
Most of all: he’d give her love because he wanted to earn her love in return.
And to do that, he needed to make absolutely certain she understood why he’d disappointed her, and just how sorry he was for doing so.
“Within two sentences, I could tell your dad was a dick. Which I’d already guessed, since you’re estranged, but it wasn’t hard to see why.” He sighed. “Your mom seemed genuinely affectionate with you, though, so I thought it was safe to leave you two alone, while I kept him away. I’m so sorry.”
Her hands were icy, and he chafed them, trying to lend his warmth.
She watched, her exhaustion visible in her boneless slump and painted in dark circles beneath her eyes. “She is genuinely affectionate. That’s not the problem.”
“I know that now. I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice raw. “If I’d had any idea she was badgering you like that, I never would have abandoned you.”
“No need to apologize.” Her jaw cracked with her yawn. “You didn’t know. I didn’t tell you.”
Asshe sagged against her seat, she began shivering, even though it wasn’t actually cold in the car. Emissions be damned, he promptly turned on the engine and set the thermostat as high as possible, flicking her seat warmer onto its hottest setting too.
She didn’t protest.
He cradled her face in his hands. “April, I swear I’m nothing like your father. In general, because he’s an asshole, but also...”
When he trailed off, shifting in discomfort, she filled in the rest.
“You don’t care that I’m fat.” Nuzzling her cheek against his palm, she closed her eyes again. “Which I should have known from the beginning, given the way we met.”
On the Lavineas server? What did that have to do with her size?
“Given the—?” He paused. “On Twitter. Yes, given the way we met.”
Shit, he’d almost forgotten. Almost revealed exactly how long theyhadknown one another. Jesus. As if the afternoon somehow required even more drama and conflict.
He brushed his lips over her forehead, then her nose, before giving her a brief, gentle kiss on the mouth. “I love your body exactly the way it is, April.”
“I believe you.” Her faint smile lightened his heavy heart. “Even an actor of your talent couldn’t fake how you look at me. Especially when we make love.”
Lustful and lovestruck and speechless. That was how he felt when they made love, and how he probably looked too.
April’s body was perfect exactly as it was. Brent Whittier could go fuck himself.
“I had no idea that was the crux of your estrangement with your father.” After one last tender stroke of her hair back from her forehead, he shifted fully back into his own seat and put the car indrive. “I knew it was an issue with some of your dates, but not with him. I really am sorry.”
At first, she didn’t respond. Tipping back her head, she closed her eyes. His guess: worn out by all the upheaval, she’d be asleep within thirty seconds.
Then, when they were almost out of the parking lot, she seemed to register his words.
Her eyes blinked open, and she put a hand on his arm, stopping him from pulling out onto the road. He braked, then turned to her again.
“What’s wrong?”
Was she still too cold? Did she want to get out of the car and sit on one of the park’s sunlit benches together?
“Marcus...” Her brow was pinched. “How did you know I’d been fat-shamed by dates before?”
