But it’s all mine. My father gave it to me instead of taking it for himself when we first moved into the tiny fifth-wheel a couple years ago. He said I was a young woman who needed privacy and my own space, and he was right. I cried and cried when we got kicked out of our old house, when I had to leave my bedroom behind. I was a wailing, hysterical mess, and I swear he gave me the only bedroom truly to shut me up.
I’ve learned since then I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want.
“So tell me about your family.” The wine is making me loose, both my body and my tongue. I picked at the antipasto plate, so my stomach is mostly full of wine as we wait for our dinner, which is taking for-freaking-ever.
Rhett keeps trying to get me to talk, but I dodge all of his questions, doing my best to turn them back on him. Or I give him vague answers without ever really saying a thing.
He asked if I had any siblings and I wanted to say so badly, I’m sitting across from one right now, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well, so I told him I had none.
Now it’s his turn to answer my questions.
“What do you want to know about my family?” He raises a brow and it’s so sexy, when raised eyebrows shouldn’t be that sexy. I don’t even know what’s the matter with me. I’m not acting right.
I blame the wine.
“Everything.” I prop my elbow on the table and rest my chin on my curled fingers, shooting him an adoring look. It’s not really a lie either, because right now, in the flickering candlelight, his lips stained by the fancy wine he ordered, he’s adorable. “Do you look like your dad?”
“Not really. My older brother looks like my dad.” He shakes his head, then pushes his hair away from his forehead with an impatient shove of his fingers. “I look more like my mother.”
“Oh.” I didn’t want to bring up a sore subject, but here I am, blundering right into the topic of his dead mother.
“She died when I was five.” He frowns. “Or did I already tell you that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You didn’t. You just mention that she passed, but I didn’t know you were only five.” I pause, take a sip of my wine. “How awful.”
“Yeah.” He smiles, but it’s weak. “I guess we have the dead parent thing in common.”
I return the smile, my body tingling with triumph. That had been the plan all along. Finding common ground with Rhett about our dead parents. But I should probably change the subject. “Are you close with your brother?”
“Yeah, we’re pretty close.” His smile grows. “And there’s my little sister. I’m really close to Addie.”
It’s like my brain short circuits at hearing her name. I always forget about the little sister. That’s because I don’t want to remember her. The daughter my mother stuck around for. The one who doesn’t even belong to my mother, yet she raised her anyway.
“It must’ve been so hard.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Your sister losing her mother at such a young age.”
He tilts his head, contemplating me. “How did you know about that?”
My stomach drops. Oh God. Did I mess up and reveal too much? “I, um. I just assumed, I guess. Or does your sister belong to your stepmother? Is she your half-sister?”
My heart is racing and I pray I didn’t say the wrong thing. I need to keep my mouth shut and let him feed me the information.
“My mom died after giving birth to my sister,” Rhett says quietly, his gaze going turbulent. “Let’s change the subject. I don’t want to get depressed over dinner. Let’s talk about you.”
Yeah. That’s a depressing subject. “You already know everything there is to know about me. There’s not much else to tell.”
“Uh huh.” His eyes are sparkling as he studies me. “More like you want to keep up the mysterious air.”
“You think I’m mysterious?” I’m truly shocked.
He nods, reaching across the table to grab my hand. “You either dodge my questions completely or you give me short answers. You don’t want to tell me anything.”
He’s so right. “That’s not true,” I lie.
“Whatever. It’s cool.” He squeezes my hand, and I swear he’s amused by me. “I like mysterious girls.”
My heart skips a beat at his words, at the way he’s looking at me. His thumb is sliding gently over the top of my hand, and I’m caught up in the spell Rhett is casting over me. He makes me want to forget. About my fucked up life. About my plans for revenge. None of it matters if I can just sit here for the rest of the night and stare into his beautiful brown eyes.
“Have you always been so independent?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything to him.