She obviously doesn’t know them as well as she thinks she does, although she’s right about the second part. “Maybe the older generation. But your brothers and cousins disagree.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We had a little chat in the parking lot. It was quite illuminating.”
She buries her face in a free hand. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” She straightens. “They didn’t…um…hurt you, did they?”
It’s cute how she’s worried about me. “No. They were quite civilized.”
Her shoulders visibly relax. “Good.”
Because she’s simply too adorable, I can’t help but do something I rarely do: tease. “They wanted to ensure we could gift your parents with multiple grandchildren.”
Her cheeks turn bright red as she lets out a loud gasp. “They—did—not.”
It’s all I can do to swallow a laugh. “They did.”
“I’m going to murder them!”
From the rage glinting in her eyes, I’m pretty sure that if her brothers and cousins were here right now, she’d stab them with her fork. “Difficult and time-consuming. There are seven of them, and just one of you. Much easier to simply accept that they did it for you and leave it at that.”
“Just to be clear, I didn’t tell them to do that,” she says, her tone full of embarrassment.
“The possibility never crossed my mind. And your face shouldn’t be that red over what they did on their own. You aren’t their mom.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“They care about you. They just want to protect you.”
“Yes, I know, but please. Just ignore them. Please. They think they know best, but they don’t.” She stabs a piece of toast and points it at me. “Overbearing men!”
“I don’t want to.” When she gives me a blank look, I add, “Ignore them, that is.”
“What? Why not?” She stares at me, the toast momentarily forgotten.
I take the fork from her hand, turn it around and feed it to her. She’s eating for two. “I won’t turn my back on my child, Jo.” Not the way my parents did. I’m going to be best damn father there is, no matter what the cost.
Jo scrutinizes me, a little too intently for comfort. I don’t think I’m being overly obvious in my thoughts and feelings. I’ve spent so much of my life hiding them because I learned very early on that revealing them could make things worse.
“What happened to you?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.
I pull myself together, exerting even stronger control and putting on my most placid face. “I’m being responsible and dependable, like you said when we first met.”
Jo looks away. Something I recognize as disappointment crosses her face, then she inhales and exhales softly. But why is she unhappy? Because I’m not going to unload my sterile and boring childhood on her? She should realize it’s better this way. The family history is boring and not worth retelling. The tabloids have covered enough already, even if none of them got it totally right. I’d be surprised if she hasn’t read those so-called articles.
Finally, she says, “My parents don’t want me to be married. They want me to be happy.”
Perhaps they knew I wasn’t very good at protecting my own brothers…and wondering how I could be entrusted with their precious daughter. On the other hand, she hasn’t said what she wants. “Would it make you happy to have me disappear, then?” I ask quietly, needing to know exactly what she’s thinking.
If she says yes… Well, then I’ll have to redouble my efforts. Show her that having me around is infinitely better than the alternative.
But I want her to say no. I want her to tell me she wants me and my protection.
r /> Instead of answering, she cuts her French toast into neat squares. What’s this? I want him gone, I want him here, only with food because there aren’t any flower petals she can pluck with each option?
The longer this goes on, the tighter my gut becomes. I wish I hadn’t eaten the fries. I take a sip of Coke.
Finally she puts her knife down. “No.”