I stare, stunned. What makes her think I’m a jerk? And not just any jerk, but a Class-A, Sneaky as Fuck Jerk?
“I’ve read articles about you,” she adds. “I’m sure there’s some journalistic exaggeration, but where there’s smoke…” She purses her mouth.
Tabloids. “They are so much worse than the reality,” I say. “You know how it is.”
“Actually, I don’t. I’ve never had to deal with anyone like you. And I worry about Evie. She’s too innocent and trusting.”
“Her trust isn’t misplaced, ma’am.”
“It isn’t?” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her cool eyes. “Do you know the origin of the term ‘con man’?”
“No,” I say, wondering where she’s going with this. Is she trying to warn me somebody’s about to fleece me blind?
“The ‘con’ in ‘con man’ comes from ‘confidence.’ Using lies and deception to gain someone’s confidence and then betraying them in the end. And I’m not sure how honest of a man you are.”
My throat closes. I still have those two lies I haven’t fessed up to Evie yet. Yeah, so they’re minor ones—the one about my smoothie and my inability to pick out my own clothes—but they’re still lies. And they’re like a double garrote around my neck, choking me, especially when Mari’s sharp gaze is pinning my face.
She lets out a sudden sigh, her shoulders drooping. “Maybe you don’t mean to hurt her now. Maybe you think it’s not going to be like your previous relationships. But it’s my job to worry anyway. She’s everything to me.”
I cringe inwardly. If she’d seen some of the crazy shit that I’ve done, of course she’d think I’m a good-for-nothing, lucky-as-hell bastard who happened to be born to a rich family. Hell, I’m embarrassed about some of it.
But her disapproval is coming from the fact that she loves her daughter, and I can’t fault her for that. “Then I’ll simply have to prove myself—do everything in my power to keep Evie happy. All I ask is that you withhold judgment until—actually, make that unless I screw up.”
For a brief moment, Mari’s expression softens. “That’s…acceptable.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Evie
I’m the first to wake up. Of course, I’m used to getting up earlier than Nate anyway. I roll on my side, prop my head on my hand and look down at his face. He looks so relaxed and peaceful. His mouth is soft—and just slightly curved upward at the corners. Must be having a great dream. Maybe a sex dream about me.
I wish he were just a little more selfish about his needs. But his refusal to go for a second round last night meant a lot to me, especially when he explained why. He’s been managing so many hospitals, and I’m sure he’s seen and heard about all the things that can go wrong with a pregnancy. I lay my hand over my belly. Besides, it’s good to be on the cautious side. I’m sure my doctor’s going to clear me for sex and every other normal activity I can think of. I’m healthy as a horse. The fainting yesterday was a total aberration.
Quietly, I sneak out of the bed, then out of habit, I walk into the closet and pick out a sky-blue polo shirt and jeans for him. He doesn’t have any appointments, but it’s always best to dress him somewhat nicely. Just in case.
That done, I put on my night shirt and shorts, then make my way downstairs. I’m hungry and need to take better care of myself. No more eating only a single piece of toast all day or any of that stuff. I go check the delivery chute. There’s a cooler full of fresh greens for Nate’s shake. He hasn’t had one for so long, basically since his mom’s been here, and we have a huge pile of kale. I should toss out all the wilted ones.
At the very bottom of the bag is a head of broccoli. It’s a deep green and extra firm. I inhale it. Smells incredible. I never knew a smell could be so tempting.
My mouth starts to water as I wash the veggies like I routinely do in the morning. I put everything into the blender, let the appliance work its magic, then dump the concoction into a glass. The thick smoothie rises, a frosty, gliste
ning column of forest green. The smell somehow isn’t pungent like usual. Instead, it’s alluring, seductive, a cruciferous siren calling my name.
Unable to help myself, I swipe a finger around the inside of the blender and taste it.
Oh. My. God.
The flavor explodes on my tongue, the taste sweet and refreshing. How can vegetables be like this? The last time I tried a green smoothie, it was like licking sewage. What’s going on? Did the delivery service change the type of kale? I check the leftover leaves. They look the same. Is it the broccoli? No…can’t be.
I look down at my belly. Is it the baby?
Quite possibly. He—I decide to settle on he, because he and/or she is mouthful and I’m not going to have a girl just because Barron says he wants one—could’ve gotten his taste for the green goo from Nate.
Saliva pools in my mouth, and suddenly I feel like I’ll die if I don’t have a shake for myself. I make one using the remaining kale and broccoli.
Just then, Nate walks in, wearing a plain white shirt and shorts. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” If words could bounce, mine would be hitting the ceiling. It’s so exciting we can actually share his favorite breakfast! “Look, I made you your shake again!”