“So we’re really doing this, huh?” he asks, and I know exactly what he’s referring to.
Getting married.
“I think so,” I answer, not sure what I should say. “Is that what you want?”
“Is that whatyouwant?”
I’m quiet for a moment, wondering how I should explain myself.
I decide to tell him the truth.
“Anything is better than living with my father,” I admit. “No matter what I do, he’s never going to be happy with me. I’m a disappointment in his eyes.”
“That’s hella unfair,” he murmurs and I can’t help it.
I smile at his response.
“How’s that going, by the way? The wedding planning, I mean.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, watching me carefully.
“My mother has taken over most of it,” I admit, wondering if he thinks that’s weird. Really, it’s just easier. She loves to plan a party, and since I’m marrying a man I barely know, I don’t have the enthusiasm or drive to put together my wedding.
“Your mother run your life?”
I bristle under his tone. “No, I just have no desire to plan something I had no say in in the first place. Does your mother run your life?”
It’s Perry’s turn to bristle—I said that on purpose. I knew I’d get a reaction. “Not anymore.”
Oh. I’m shocked by his brutal honesty. “What do you mean?”
“She didn’t want me moving into this apartment. She wanted you to move into her house—with me.” He grimaces.
That sounds awful.
“I knew you wouldn’t want to move into the compound. It kind of sucks there,” he admits. “It would probably remind you of home.”
I should be honest with him and thank him for getting me out of my house. Even though I panicked for a bit and worried how it might be, living with him, I’m slowly realizing anything is better than feeling like a prisoner in your own home, constantly reminded of your past mistakes.
“I, um, want to thank you.”
He studies me, those deep-blue eyes locking with mine. “For what?”
“For helping me get away from—him.” I don’t need to clarify who I’m referring to.
His gaze softens and he takes a step toward me. “I’m glad I could help. Though you were pretty mad Saturday night when I told you I was getting you out of there.”
“You were so bossy.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t usually act like that. I think the Constantine in me came out.”
I hated it at the time, but now I see his reaction for what it was.
Anger—on my behalf. He just wanted to protect me. And no one wants to protect me, not even my brothers.
“I appreciate you watching out for me. No one ever really does that,” I admit.
He watches me quietly and after only a few seconds I want to squirm beneath his gaze. I’m not used to someone taking care of me. Looking at me as if they’re trying to figure me out. No one ever sticks around long enough to try.
“Not even that one guy?”