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“Do I really?”
My eyes trail down the features of her face, admiring her perfect fucking nose and pouty pink lips. “Yeah, you do.” The words come out croaky, so I quickly clear my throat.
I like that about her. It’s easy to tell what she’s thinking, to tell how angry she is with me, or if she’s happy. Or if she’s turned on.
She gives me a small smile. “I’ll work on that for you, Your Highness.”
Please don’t. I like knowing what’s going on in that pretty head.
But I don’t say that. I just grunt.
I don’t know why I thought I could do this.
I said that thing about opening her legs to push her away, to deflect my feelings, but I don’t know what to do now. My leg shakes under the table, channeling the nerves I’m feeling. I stare down at my plate and shovel in another bite.
I never realized how hard it would be to keep a conversation going when the other person doesn’t seem thrilled to be in my presence.
“My mom asked about you the other day.” What the hell? That’s how I decide to transition? Now I’m just word vomiting like a teenager on his first date with a pretty girl.
Tara smiles, and it’s a beautiful sight, one she doesn’t show me often. “How is she? She’s amazing. I don’t know how she puts up with you.”
Same.Guilt pools in my stomach. I hate that my sweet mom basically had two versions of my father to look after.
“She’s good. She was pretty sad we didn’t bring you along last week. Basically talked about you all day. I couldn’t get away from you.”
“She’s got good taste. I am pretty awesome.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I actually laugh out loud. Sometimes it’s weird hearing my own laugh.
“You’ll have to go keep her company sometime. She’ll talk your ear off about gardening and cooking.” Why the fuck am I suggesting that? I need to keep her at arm’s length, not invite her to hang out with my mom.
“I just might.” Her face suddenly drops, her smile turning sad. There she goes again—her emotions painted on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“My mom loves both of those things. Almost more than she loves me.” I can see the pain in her eyes. I know she’s missing her parents. In the entire time we’ve known each other, she hasn’t visited them once.
“You can go see them, you know. I’m not keeping you from them.”
“I know... It’s just easier for me to stay away. I can’t lie to their faces.”
“Or you could just tell them you got married?”
She sets her fork down, and sighs. “I’m not ready. I’d rather keep it from them than see the disappointment on their faces.”
“You’re just making it harder on yourself by not telling them. Am I that bad that they can’t know about me?” I ask. “Actually, don't answer that. What’s stopping you from telling them?” I know they had other plans for her, but would they really be that upset if she was “in love” with another man?
“As you already know, they wanted me to marry someone else. They’ve been pushing me toward him for years. I don’t know how they’ll react if they find out I deliberately went against their wishes. They’ve been giving me time to make my choice, but I know they’d always planned on me being with him eventually.”
“You really are a stubborn woman,” I tease playfully, making her smile. “What’s the worst they could do though?”
“Disown me. Take back the restaurant.”
Why the hell would she marry me to save the restaurant if she could lose it for the same reason?
“Why would you do this if that was the risk though?”
“I had to try. I had to do something to protect my family. To protect myself.” She breathes those last few words, her gaze falling to her plate. Her eyes look distant, like she’s lost in her head.
“Tara… What aren’t you telling me?”
