"So, I’m the only person you’ve shared so much with?" she whispers.
I nod. Her chin wobbles and I place my hand on hers. "I didn’t share it with you so you’d feel sorry for me. I don’t need your sympathy, LadyBird."
"Then why did you—"
"Choose to share with you?"
She nods.
"We were going to be married. Also, you caught me in the midst of my nightmare. It felt right that you know my demons. Just as I hope you’ll share whatever is on your mind."
30
Isla
Why is he telling me this? Why is he looking at me with those all-knowing eyes that imply he knows what I’m hiding. This is the second or third time he’s hinted that it’s safe for me to tell him what’s bothering me. I admire him for the courage he had to share his past; I’m just not there yet.
"If we’re going to co-parent a child, it seems important that we’re honest with each other. You can’t build a relationship on a weak foundation," he adds.
I nod. What else can I say? ‘I don’t have the courage to tell you my secret because I’ll hate how you’ll view me after that’? Worse, I’m not sure how I’ll view myself. And that’s the issue here. I recognize it, but am at a loss about what to do about it. I cut off a piece of the French toast and chew on it. The sweetness of the sugar, combined with the custardy texture of the eggs and the buttery, crispy golden edges, melt on my tongue. It’s like eating bread and butter pudding, only much more complex.
A moan wells up.
His gaze narrows on my mouth, then he reaches out to rub his thumb at the edge of my lips. He sucks on his thumb, and my entire body feels like it’s being slow cooked… Like the French toast.
"You had some powdered sugar there," he explains. His voice is husky. He may as well as have said, "You’re going to be fucked by me." Which, oh god, I admit, I really want.
I focus on my plate and finish off the rest of the meal with gusto.
When I look up, he’s watching me with a grin.
"What?"
"Nothing like a woman with a healthy appetite."
"It helps that your cooking was not bad."
"Not bad, eh?" He laughs. His entire demeanor is relaxed. His shoulders are not tense; his features are open. There’s a general sense of contentment about him, which is so at odds with how I’ve seen him before.
I glance about the island, then back at him. "You really are not a people person, huh?"
He leans back in his chair. "They’re a necessary evil, but I don’t engage with them unless I have to."
"So why did you decide upon such a public wedding."
"You know why."
"I know you said the PR would benefit you, but I’m sure even if you hadn’t had such a public event, it wouldn’t have taken away from whatever you have planned for your company."
His gaze grows inscrutable.
"I’m right, aren’t I?"
He neither agrees, nor disagrees.
I reach for a strawberry and pop it into my mouth. "So why did you go through with—" I stop midway into biting down on the fruit, then glance at him. "Did you—" The piece goes down the wrong way and I cough and cough. He pats me on the back, then slides the glass of water over. I take a few sips then wipe the tears off my cheek. "It’s for me. You did it for me. You knew the resulting publicity or notoriety" —I wince— "would benefit me."
"Don’t make me out to be all that altruistic. The publicity definitely helps with the IPO, although you’re right, it would have gone through even without the resulting PR." He shuffles his feet. “And yes, I knew it would be more of a help your business than not. Also, as you pointed out, it was too late to cancel the exclusives we’d promised the media, so it made sense to go through with it."