“She’s fine.” Rhys cuts him off rudely, which only winds Connor up more.
“She can speak for herself,” Connor grits out, the muscle in his jaw tensing.
Not wanting to cause any more of a scene than we already have, I decide to step in. “I’m fine, Connor. Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m fine.”
He looks like he’s about to respond when our waiter strides over with our food.
“Steak pie for the gentleman,” he says, placing a plate of delicious-smelling food in front of Rhys. “And the Caesar saladfor the lady.”
“Thank you.” I smile, relieved at the opportunity to change the subject. “It looks great.”
“You’re welc— Oh my, are you alright? You look awfully flushed!”
“Cramps,” Rhys, Connor and I say in unison.
“Oh… OH!” The waiter blushes enough to rival my current complexion and looks around to avoid making eye contact with me. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, please do let me know if there’s any way I can help.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“Thanks, Owen,” Connor says, patting the waiter on the shoulder as he walks away. Then he directs his attention back to me. “So, you’re back to eating rabbit food.”
“I…”
“She’s made a decision to be healthier,” Rhys answers for me, his grip tightening almost painfully on my leg. “I admire her for it. It’s not easy to be open and honest about your own flaws, and it’s incredibly brave to do something about it, however hard it is.”
I dare to glance up long enough to see Connor’s eyes flare with anger.
I force a smile, knowing the only way he’ll drop this is if he thinks I’m happy. “It’s fine, Connor. I’m doing really well. I’m fine. I just want to eat my meal.”
“Fine,” he grunts, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. “But if you ever need anything…”
“She’ll come to her husband.” Rhys looks downright murderous, and I feel the urgent need to get Connor away.
I ignore the pain of Rhys’s nails digging into my leg, swallow my embarrassment and shame and force a smile. “It was really good to see you, Connor.”Please take the hint, I beg him with my eyes.
“I’ll see you soon.” He gives Rhys one last glare and turns back towards the kitchen.
Once Connor disappears through the doors marked ‘Staff Only’, Rhys wipes his still-sticky fingers on the lap of my dress and picks up his fork. I’m hurt by the gesture, but I try to understand why he did it. Seeing Connor here tonight must have come as a shock to him, so it’s not surprising he’s a little agitated and out of sorts.
We eat our meal in uncomfortable silence. When Owen returns and asks us if we would like dessert, Rhys declines for us both and asks for the bill instead. Once he’s paid, he stands up to leave. When I move to follow, I realise I have damp smudges streaked across the front of my dress, where Rhys wiped his fingers earlier, and I’m willing to bet I have a stain on the back, too.
“Rhys?”
“What?” he snaps.
“There are marks on my dress,” I hiss. “Everyone’s going to notice and stare at me!”
“You should have been more careful, then,” he answers, as if it’s my fault. “I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll meet you in the car.”
Rhys storms away, leaving me sitting at the table unsure what to do. I can’t hide it with a well-placed cardigan because I didn’t bring one. If I stand up, people will notice the marks and put two and two together. But if I stay sitting here much longer, I have no doubt Owen will report back to Connor, and then I’ll have to explain the stains to him. Deciding I’d rather have thirty or so strangers whisper about me than have Connor know the truth about what happened, I get up and power walk to the exit.
Chapter 22
I’m not ready
“So, these are the changing rooms.” Rhys gestures towards the women’s changing room doors.
I nod my head, feigning enthusiasm.
