He offered her a withering stare. “You guess what it is. You get it right, great. You don’t, I ask questions. Give hints. Talk to you about what you’re tasting.”
In short: He’dcommunicate. Express himself so eloquently her damn eardrums wouldweepin ecstasy. Hopefully.
“You okay with that?” Because, yeah, this plan involved some trust on her part. Or maybe she’d had bad experiences with blindfolds. How the hell would he know? “If not, no problem. Got a Plan B.”
Blindfolds could go. Simply closing her eyes would work instead. Or if she wanted more information about the foods before they started—
“It’s...” Her forehead had crinkled. “It’s... fine.”
Not very convincing.
“Got food allergies?” he guessed.
That question was his next list item anyway, since she wouldn’t know ahead of time what she was consuming. Yeah, he had an EpiPen nearby, but zero desire to use it.
She shook her head immediately. “No.”
He waited. Nothing else. Not one complaint or concern. But he had eyes, didn’t he? Saw her pinched lips. Ramrod-straight posture. Stiff shoulders.
Dammit. Something was wrong, and he was total shit at guessing games. “Talk to me, Dearborn. Either we fix whatever’s worrying you, or we scrap the whole thing. If you’re uncomfortable, this isn’t happening.”
She sighed. Set her elbows on the table and rubbed her face with her palms for a second.
“Just...” Her head lifted, and she met his eyes. “Don’t smash food in my face. Please.”
He scowled at her, offended. “Why the hell would I do that?”
More face-scrubbing. Very un-Dearborn-like, but he was too incensed and hurt to pay much heed.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I’m that kind of man? Asshole who’d make you vulnerable, then take advantage of you?”
“No. Not really. It’s only...” Another sigh, and her shoulders slumped. “Look, Karl. When my ex and I got married, he wanted a big wedding. I didn’t, so we hired a planner, and I let him be the go-between. I had two main demands.”
She held up a finger, tired lines bracketing her mouth. “First, no heels. Flats, boots, sneakers, or bare feet. Those were my acceptable options.” Her middle finger joined her forefinger. “Second: When we cut the cake at the reception, I didn’t want to do the whole feeding-each-other thing, but if they insisted, Rob would give me a small, manageable bite. I had no intention of getting crumbs all over the most expensive outfit of my life or choking on a huge chunk of dark chocolate fudge cake in front of a crowd.”
“You don’t even like dark chocolate.” Might be fancier than milk chocolate, but not sweet enough for her. He’d learned that much within a day of their reunion.
She smiled faintly. “No, I don’t.”
“Guessing that prick fed you a huge goddamn bite of cake,” Karl ground out, his irritation now aimed at an entirely different target. “After saying he wouldn’t.”
Her laugh was brittle. A broken shard of sugar left too long on the heat, until it turned bitter. “Oh, he didn’t feed it to me. He basically shoved the entire piece in my face. As a practical joke, he said. Wedding shenanigans.”
All his remaining hurt had vanished, replaced by outrage. Also a rising urge to find this Rob bastard and smash his teeth in.
“Only a practical joke if both sides think it’s funny. Otherwise?Bullying.” A lesson he’d taught each and every one of his younger siblings, because it was damn important.
She fiddled with a strand of her hair, twisting it into a rope and releasing it, again and again, gaze pointed downward. “He told me I was only angry because I had no sense of humor.”
Total gaslighting bullshit. “And you didn’t knee him in his balls, shove the entire cake down his throat, and dump that motherfucker on the spot?”
The girl he’d known, the woman she’d become—both held power in every goddamn inch of their strong, sure bodies. Confidence too. Pride. So why the hell had she stayed married to that asswipe until two years ago?
Her fingernail flicked the blunt ends of her hair, and her button-down tightened against her breasts as her chest rose in a silent sigh.
“I should have,” she finally said, her voice quiet and raw. “I should’ve left right then and there, even if it meant starting divorce proceedings less than an hour after our wedding ceremony, because I knew better. I could see all the red flags flying, clear as day, but...”
Her pale blue eyes rose to meet his, and he hated that tentative expression. The silent plea for understanding, when she didn’t have to justify herself to him. Ever.
