He bent his head to his plate and ate his coleslaw, because just like his dad, he didn’t know what to say, and he never had. What Peterdidhave to say, his father generally didn’t understand, so it was pointless, and always had been.
Maria’s knee nudged his, but he didn’t look up.
“—try to keep my runs less than an hour, so I don’t have to carry a water bottle.” Dad squeezed more lemon over his remaining fish. “Are you a runner, Maria?”
Peter had to give credit where it was due. At least his father didn’t assume fat people hated or avoided exercise, unlike many others Peter had met over the years.
“I prefer walking, generally.” Her lips pursed adorably as she sipped her sparkling water through a paper straw. “At the gym, I mostly focus on strength training or use the rowing machine.”
Thus all that glorious upper-body strength. When they got back to the hotel, he was going to strip her to the waist and lick a path over—
“Peter’s fiancée preferred treadmills to running outside, and I never understood that,” his father said, shaking his head. “Why not enjoy the fresh air?”
A more pertinent question: What the actual fuck? Why was his father talking aboutAnne, of all people?
Beside him, Maria had abruptly straightened in her chair, her thigh tensing against Peter’s. He laid a hand on that warm thigh, offering silent reassurance, even as the violent clench of his jaw sent a bolt of pain to his temples.
In contrast, his dad leaned back comfortably, obviously settling in for another lecture. “I always told her—”
“Ex-fiancée,” Peter interrupted without apology, temper edging the words with iron. “Our engagement ended over a decade ago, Dad. She has no place at this table, and no part in this conversation.”
And Maria should never have found out about her like this, in front of his goddamnfather. But fuck it all, that was on him too, not just his dad. He should have told her about his broken engagement years ago, wounded pride and instinctive reserve bedamned, as soon as he’d begun to understand and trust her. As soon as she’d become the most important person in his life.
She hadn’t shifted away from his hand, but she hadn’t relaxed under its weight either.
Fair enough. Let this be his penance, then. An offering of pain in apology for a silence that had stretched far too long. He would tell the story of the woman who’d broken his heart in front of the man who’d done the same, and hopefully Maria would forgive him.
“I only had one serious relationship before meeting you.” He waited until Maria made eye contact, and looked solely at her. “Anne, an orthopedic doctor in LA. We were engaged for a few months, a little over ten years ago.”
Her expression had turned opaque, her eyes guarded. But she was listening instead of walking away from him, which was more than he probably deserved.
“Around the time we got engaged, I was cast as the lead in a big-budget pilot. Up until the last minute, it looked like we were going to get picked up, but...” His dismissive wave expressed it all.You know how it goes in our industry. “Before the show fell through, I don’t think she understood how precarious the life of a working actor can be. If the pilot had been picked up, I’d have been more than comfortable, financially. Without the role, I still had enough money for rent and food, but not much extra for a wedding.”
Maria’s thigh twitched, and her lips pursed. “I thought doctors in the U.S. made good money. Couldn’t she pay for the wedding?”
Of course she’d ask that. Of course she’d defend him.
Maria fucking Ivarsson, the greatest miracle of his life.
“Probably. But she didn’t want to. Not all of it, anyway. One day, she just . . . left.” His chest rose and fell on a silent breath.“No warning. No note. No explanation. I had to find out from mutual acquaintances what happened.”
At that, Maria winced. Probably because, as she well knew, another woman had also left his bed without a word or note. Six years ago, to be precise.
The circumstances weren’t the same, obviously. A one-night stand didn’t create the same obligations as an engagement. But... at least she now had a bit more context for his resentment when he’d encountered her in that LA office building the next day. Some additional explanation for why he’d acted like such a dick in that damn parking lot.
His bitterness wasn’t simply about a wounded male ego. Or at least, not entirely. Her fuck-and-run had inadvertently pressed on the exact same spot as an old injury and brought it flaring back to painful life. So he’d gotten hurt, and then he’d gotten pissy.
It was that simple, and that dumb.
“She’d decided my career and life were too volatile for her. She wanted stability.” He’d offered Anne his heart, his loyalty, and his future, but he couldn’t promise what that future would entail. He’d understood that all along, and she hadn’t. Not until it was far too late. “She wanted a guarantee she wouldn’t end up supporting us both. So she broke our engagement.”
A man like him couldn’t meet her needs. He got that.
He didn’t blame her for leaving. He could and did blame her for the way she’d done it.
“I’m sorry, Peter,” Maria said quietly, her neutral expression softening with sympathy.
On her thigh, the warmth of her hand covered his. Squeezed.