His answering smile was all boyish delight. “You’ll hear no complaints from me. Shall we start now?” He leaned forward eagerly.
She laughed and placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. “I think we should wait. For the right moment.”
Evander let out a theatrical sigh. “I do not like that plan.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I suppose,” he grumbled, reclining in his chair. “But the next time we kiss, you should prepare yourself. It will change your world.”
She quirked a brow. “Oh?”
“I’m an excellent kisser,” he said with mock gravity. “If there were an award, I’d win it.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re absurd.”
“We’ve only kissed twice and already you’re smitten. Coincidence? I think not.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you what I was thinking,” she muttered.
His teasing faded as his expression sobered. “No. I’m glad you did.”
Bowls of soup were placed in front of them, steam rising in gentle tendrils. Olivia picked up her spoon but paused.
“What should we talk about now?” she asked.
Evander didn’t answer right away. When he did, his words were firm. “I want to know the real you. Not just what the world sees, but the broken pieces you hide.”
Her hand stilled over the bowl. “You already know everything about me.”
“I doubt that,” he said. “Give me all of you, Livy.”
She lowered her spoon and drew in a breath. “There is something… but it’s rather embarrassing.”
Evander leaned forward. “Now you’ve definitelypiqued my curiosity.”
She bit her lower lip. “The truth of the matter was that I was heartbroken when the late Lord Harwood married someone else. That’s when I married Mr. Smith. And we both know how thatended.”
His features softened. “Do you regret not marrying Harwood?”
“I did. For the briefest of time. But now?” She reached for his hand. “I’m glad I didn’t marry Lord Harwood. He wouldn’t have made me happy.”
Evander held her gaze. “So you’re happy now?”
She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I am happy here. With you.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”
“There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.”
He chuckled. “That was beautiful. You should write poetry.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just eat. In silence, if you please.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh, reaching for his spoon. “Fine. But just know, I’m composing a sonnet about our next kiss.”
She rolled her eyes again—but this time, her heart was lighter.
Just as Olivia was reaching for her spoon again, the quiet hush of the dining room was broken by the sound of the door opening.
