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Charlie made some exciting noises and said something he couldn’t comprehend. She grabbed a handful of little pizza bites, and the boys chuckled.
“You’re a greedy one, huh?” he said to her, touching her cheek.
The toddler smiled at him, regarding him with interest.
“She likes you,” Lara said. “You’re good with kids,” she said in a lower voice, a notch above a whisper. Like she had discovered a secret he hadn’t known he’d been hiding.
“I’m good at pretending,” he said, winking at her. A wave of disappointment washed through him, as if he felt shameful for saying those words.
Lara leaned closer. “I think you’re pretending now,” she whispered, then she winked at him.
Surprise bolted through him, and he took a generous bite of the pizza, to keep from saying things he certainly didn’t want to share. She saw through him, didn’t she? She knew he pretended not to like kids, not the other way around.
A shiver zapped down his spine. The idea of her reading him so well scared him—because he’d been pretending for a long time, much longer than their sham marriage.
* * *
Lara drummed her fingers on her lap. Where was he? She sat at the linen clothed table and looked around the delicious bakery Le Bon Cake. She could have invited any of her girlfriends for the cake tasting appointment, but she’d insisted Troy come instead. He would have been okay with any of her choices, but for the past two days he’d been avoiding her again.
They had sex, then she said they could do it again, but at the end of the day when she’d told him she knew he was pretending, she’d lost him. He’d played with the boys a little—because David and Henry had insisted—and then retreated to his room. By the time Nikki came to pick up the kids, she was too tired to chat and just went to her room, showered and tumbled onto the bed.
But the next several days he’d been leaving the house before she was awake and returning late. The little progress they’d made had vanished like smoke in the air. They were back to avoiding each other.
Why though?
She bit her lower lip. None of this should matter. She should stick to her plan of not getting attached to a man more complex than the inner workings of a train station.
Because of the look in his eyes. When she’d told him she knew he was pretending, she meant to tease him, to probe him, to expand their playful interaction. But the look in his eyes spoke of hurt, confusion and fear. And she’d wanted to delve into the meaning of those emotions, to explore them, to ask.
Of course, Charlie spilled the water in her plastic cup and it had yanked them from the moment.
She glanced at the entrance. Would he not show up? She’d texted him—twice—to remind him. After all, this wedding thing was all to impress his family.
The doorbell rang, a nauseatingly sweet ping, announcing his entry. A small smiled curled her lips, even if his semblance remained neutral and unsmiling. He’d obviously told himself to come and get this over with. He’d put up those walls around him that kept him hostage for so long.
Her heart stilled in her chest. She could lie to herself and lie to others. Hell, she had no problem lying to him. But the truth was… her heart resumed beating at a much faster pace—so powerfully that she touched her chest to make sure she wouldn’t be leaving this bakery in a gurney and on oxygen.
I care for him. She didn’t allow herself to call it anything else, but damn. That man did something to her insides, and she had a hard time fighting those feelings. Did he experience them too? Was it why he’d been so distant? He hadn’t become distant after they had sex—sex was probably natural to him. He’d become distant after she made a remark about his easiness around children. A compliment he’d probably understood as a family man accusation.
“Am I late?” he asked, sitting next to her.
She shook her head, putting her musings aside. “No, I just got here. I’ll go get the baker.” She raised to her feet, walked up to the door, and waved through the small glass window. Whitney, the woman who had helped her, gestured with her hand she’d join them shortly.
Lara returned to the table, and when she sat, she realized he’d been watching her, his gaze studying her profile. A warm sensation spilled into her stomach, searing her insides. “So, what kind of cake do you like?”
He shrugged. “I’m not into sweets that much.”
“So does this mean I’ll get to pick what we order?”
“I guess.”
She shuffled on her seat. Then, a thought flashed in her mind. What if he kept his distance from her because he didn’t want to have sex with her again? She’d been the one who hinted at them doing it again the next day. Not him.
They hadn’t had time to talk about it, but perhaps after thinking on it he’d decided the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze. A twinge of sadness traveled through her, turning off parts of her that only recent had seen light.
The baker returned and brought a few samples from exquisite looking cakes. She went on explaining the flavor of each one, and Lara did her best to pay attention and nod as if she was interested.
Old wounds stung fresh again. Her ex had complained about her being a bad lay. She hadn’t heard that before him, but maybe her other boyfriends were just polite. What if I can’t turn men on? She considered herself attractive, but a lot of times looks didn’t matter when it came to sex.
