“If you think I’m letting you loose unchecked on empty carbohydrates and lemon drizzle icing, you’re vastly mistaken.”
When I’ve finished, he takes the packet and sticks it in his pocket along with the empty coffee cups. “Alright?” he asks, perceptive as usual.
“I’m a bit tired,” I admit. It’s the truth. I feel suddenly drained, and my legs are rubbery.
“Time to go back.”
“I just want to feel better,” I say, frustrated.
“You will.”
“Promise.”
He directs a startled gaze at me.
I shrug. “You always tell me the truth. I trust that at least.”
“At least?” he says, his voice low.
“I don’t expect anything from you.”
I blink as he stops walking and spins me to face him. “Why not?” His eyes are suddenly stormy. “You know you can trust me.”
“No, I don’t.” The words are oddly gentle for me, tinged with my new reluctance to hurt him. I have to say this, though. “The last time I trusted you, you destroyed me. That’s the last time I took anyone’s word. The last time I trusted someone to see me and value me. The last time I felt truly safe.”
He swallows hard. “That makes me so sad.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. It was a lesson I had to learn. Monogamy is a fucking dream like Cinderella and her slippers. If it hadn’t been you teaching me, someone else would have done it.”
“Don’t say that,” he forces out.
“Reuben, you are the only person, the only man I’ve ever truly shown myself to. Why the fuck would I risk that reaction again? I’m not stupid, am I?”
“No.” His face is sheet white, a tic going in his cheek. “What if I told you—” He stops talking abruptly.
My heart hammers. “What if you told me what?”
He eyes me, biting his lip, and I sigh when I see the familiar shutters come down over his face.
“Nothing,” he says.
I wonder why I feel such disappointment. I knew we would come back to this. We always do. I cannot get beyond the way he hurt me, no matter how I try.
“We should get back,” he says quietly. “It’s getting late.”
I swallow hard. “It definitely is.”
I shut my eyes when we get into the car, feigning sleep, which, irritatingly, actually becomes sleep. I’m so deep it takes me a few moments to realise where I am after he wakes me.
I stare up at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the darkening sky. “What time is it?” I mumble.
“Six. I stopped to get something for dinner. Something healthy,” he says in a disgusted voice. “You didn’t even stir.”
I knuckle my eyes. “Sorry.”
“Oh, don’t apologise,” he says dryly. “You’re much less trouble asleep.”
“Really?”
