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Mr. Herbert knows. Or maybe I should say, Judge Herbert knows. Of course he does. I’m surprised he even let me in his house once he found out.
Paige’s fingers dig into my shoulder. Someone else might find the grasping hold uncomfortable, but with the knowledge that this fantasy is soon going to fall to ruin around me, I welcome any connection with her I can get.
“Stop being rude, Richard. Just because you don’t know Dash doesn’t mean that he’s not good enough for our daughter.” Mrs. Herbert smiles apologetically my way.
I get the morbid urge to laugh.
Paige’s dad glares at me across the room. “How about it, Dash? Should we all get to know you better?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Paige
I am going to murder my father. I’ll have Pumpkin help me dig a hole in the backyard to hide his body.
No one will miss a judge, right?
“Ask me whatever you’d like.” Dash’s deep, smooth voice comes out calm. He’s a still water pond while I’m a raging ocean storm.
“No. We’re not interrogating you.” I comb my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, more to soothe myself than him.
My dad, never one to let something go, shifts his focus to me. “Do you even know his real name?”
I try not to growl out my answer. “It’s Lamont. Dash Lamont.” But the minute I say it, I’m suddenly not so sure. My dad wouldn’t bring it up if the answer was that easy.
My father doesn’t smile, or crow in triumph. Richard Herbert isn’t the type to lord over others. He simply shakes his head, eyes cold.
My boyfriend nudges my side until I look at him. He’s got a twist to his mouth that worries me something bad is coming. “No, actually. Dash is a nickname.” He sighs, dragging his hand through his hair, leaving it messy in the way that I love. “Sorry, I just kind of hate my first name.”
“What is it?” I watch him shift under my curious stare.
“Prince.”
“Your name is Prince?” I choke on the word, but not because I’m angry.
Dash, a.k.a. Prince, grimaces. “My mom was a fan of Prince. The singer. She thought it would make for a good name. FYI, it didn’t.”
We stare at each other, and I try not to react. But when the pressure in my throat can’t escape my mouth, it comes out my nose in an inelegant snort, which I immediately regret.
“I’m sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I swear! It’s just…Prince Lamont? You sound like royalty.” Pressing my hand over my mouth, I think I can keep all further inappropriate reactions at bay.
Dash smiles, but it’s one of those fake ones, where his eyes stay sad. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard it all before. Can’t go to public school with a name like that and expect to make it through unscathed.”
Shame at my silly response stabs through my ribs, straight into my heart.
How could I be so clueless?
Dash’s scruff tickles my palms as I cup his cheeks and force him to meet my stare. “I don’t care if your name is Mr. Darcy William Shakespeare Sunzi Lamont. I would still l—” In an unprecedented feat of self-control, I hold back from blurting out that revealing four-letter word. “Likeyou. I like everything about you.”
Letting our audience fade to the back of my mind, I pretend it’s just Dash and me. I sink into his gaze, as dark as the ink of a brand-new ballpoint. People hurt him in the past. I don’t know the number, or how exactly, but behind his stare is a pain that I never want to contribute to.
I lean in and place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.
Dash blinks, then the false smile stretches into the real thing.
“Are you done tormenting the boy, Richard?” My mom seems almost as put off by my dad’s display as I am.
“Not quite.”
