The smile that curls my lips up is almost triumphant. I lift my chin at Cage, giving him a hard look, then turn to my mother. “Dinner smells great. Let’s eat.”
I head into the kitchen without a backward glance. No one says a word, but I soon hear shuffling feet as the others follow me into the kitchen.
Mom sets the huge bowl of pasta covered in a fragrant sauce—heavy on tomatoes, peppers, and onions—in the middle of the table. Laney pulls a salad out of the fridge, and I nab three bottles of different salad dressing before closing the door. Dad and Brian sit at the table, and Cage looks uncertain where to sit. I suspect he’s waiting to see where I sit, but my dad points to a chair and Cage takes it.
Pointedly, I move to the other side and sit at the far end, while Mom and Laney settle into their chairs.
There’s total and awkward silence for a moment until my mom says, “Dig in, everyone.”
More silence as we load our plates, pass condiments, and fill glasses with homemade lemonade.
“So, Cage,” my dad says as he ignores the salad he put on his side plate and digs into his meal. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
Forks pause, all eyes going to Cage, including mine. He puts his utensil down, scanning the table before resting his gaze on me. Then an easy smile splits his face, and he shrugs. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Where did you get your mad secret-agent skills?” Brian asks, sounding like a teenager enamored with Captain America.
Cage laughs. “First, I’m not a secret agent. Second—”
“It was a secret to me,” I say flatly, not even realizing those words of accusation were going to pop out of my mouth.
His green eyes dim, turning regretful. But I don’t get an apology. Instead, he asks, “You really want to do this here? Now?’
“No,” I mutter, looking down at my plate. I don’t want to get into it with him period, because I’m afraid he’s going to suck me in again. I’m worried I’ll fall for his pretty words and even prettier face.
Cage turns back to Brian, continuing as if our little exchange didn’t happen. “As I said, I’m not a secret agent. I do work for a private contract company that performs many dangerous missions that make use of my particular skillsets.”
“Skillsets?” my dad asks, but I don’t look up from my plate. I concentrate on repeatedly putting fork to mouth as I listen.
“I was in the Navy,” Cage says, and I have to resist the urge to pop my head up in curiosity. “A Navy SEAL, to be exact.”
“No way,” Brian says, the hero worship clear in his voice.
“That’s impressive,” my dad adds.
I risk a glance over at Laney. Giving me a small smile, she raises her fist again to show me that none of this impresses her. She’s on my side all the way.
For the next half hour, my mom, dad, and brother throw a steady barrage of questions at Cage, and he answers them all. In that time, I learn more about my husband than I have in the six and a half weeks we’ve been together.
Without the boundaries of his stupid lie, Cage talks freely and candidly about his life and career. And while it admittedly makes me curious, it also just pisses me off more. I should have been privy to this information before he married me. Not that it would have made me look at him any differently, and it certainly wouldn’t have stopped me from marrying him.
But it’s important stuff, and he should have been completely transparent with me before we tied the knot.
Throughout it all, I don’t say a word, but I don’t need to. Cage doesn’t address me at all, but merely proceeds to charm my family.
Except for Laney. She’s still with me, and I can tell by the way she glares at him.
After dinner, Laney and I jump up to do the dishes while everyone else chats around the table.
As we stand at the kitchen sink, side by side, she bumps my shoulder with hers and leans into me. “You ready to make a run for it?”
I glance over my shoulder, seeing my parents laughing at something Cage said. He doesn’t look my way. I whisper back, “I’m so ready.”
After the last dish is dried and put away, Laney spins around and announces, “I need to get going, and I’m going to give Jaime a ride back to her apartment.”
My mom looks disappointed, yet I can also see understanding in the sad smile. Cage’s lips press flat, and I can see he was hoping for some one-on-one time with me.
“You’ll be here Wednesday night, right?” my mom asks.
Wednesday is Christmas Eve. We’ve always had dinner together as a family, before exchanging presents and attending midnight Mass. My parents are still devout Catholics who attend church every Sunday.