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But on the other hand—-
“Why would you need that kind of reminder?”
His lips twisted. “Don’t we all?”
I didn’t know what to say. My life was far from perfect, but—-
The food arrived, and the conversation was placed on hold. Alfred served us our starters and left after giving me another wink.
Riiiiight.
Marcus was nice enough to wait for Alfred to disappear back into the kitchen before grinning.
“It’s not funny,” I muttered.
“It is.” Marcus had a taste of his salad. “This is good.”
As I took a sip of water, I realized I was disappointed that the mood had been ruined. I tried to get it back, saying tentatively, “About what you said earlier—-”
“You should start eating.” Marcus’ tone was charming, but something about it didn’t feel right. When he saw me staring at him, he lowered his fork and took mine, asking, “Want me to feed you?”
“What? Ah. No—-” But the forkful of salad was already on its way to my lips. “Thank you,” I mumbled after.
“Have another,” Marcus invited, and there went the fork again.
As I chewed on my salad, he started talking.
He told me about his parents’ early divorce, after which he then grew up in his grandmother’s care. He told me about his life in boarding school, and how he intended to take up the reins of the family business as soon as he graduated from college.
He shared his story with a surprisingly self-deprecating sense of humor, and I found myself laughing. But he also never talked about the world being a bad place, and when I tried to ask him that, Marcus seemed to sense my intention and fed me another forkful.
And so it went on, all the way down to dessert, until Alfred wasn’t even bothering to hide his grins and winks.
When we were served coffee, I pleaded right away, “May I at least drink coffee on my own?”
Marcus laughed. “But I like serving you,bambina.”
“Please?” I had no shame. Or rather, I was suffering from a lot of it, and it washisfault. Who knew being fed by a gorgeous guy could be so embarrassing, awkward, and exciting at the same time?
Marcus beat me to paying for lunch, and he also beat me to reaching for my tote bag.
“But—-”
He said gently, “I insist,bambina.”
The walk back home was spent in silence.
“It didn’t work, did it?” Marcus’ tone was quiet but unreadable.
I shook my head. “It’s not you,” I tried to explain. “I just think this isn’t going to work in the long run.”
“Because I’m different.”
My head shot up, and I protested, “No.” The hard outline of his jaw appalled me. I couldn’t believe he actually believedhewas the different one here. Was he blind? Had he forgotten who he was? Had he forgotten the kind of man he was?
Everyone would want to be friends with him.
And that meant me, too. I wanted to be his friend, too, but the difference between me and the other girls was that I knew being friends of him would be a big mistake.
