“I think it’s pertinent, since I intend to spend vastly more time with you and you told me when we were wee, ye thought I treated you like shit.”
Vastly more?
My heart skipped a beat.
“Blake,” he growled, taking my mind off my heart.
“Okay, do you want the honesty?” I demanded.
“Always.”
“I’d just had a conversation with my mother. Never fun. But it was about the fact your family was not invited to the rehearsal dinner.”
“Ah,” he said, sitting back in his side of the booth with his beer.
“I’m not being rude,” I asserted. “That event isn’t for friends of the family. It’s for people in the wedding party and close family. Furthermore, Alex left me in charge of the planning, and Mum horning in to do things I knew Alex wouldn’t want exasperated me. Something you know, Alex prefers smaller numbers. Add to that, I knew the reason Mum invited you was so she could be around Bally, and that’s just gross. So maybe I transferred some of all I was feeling and worrying about on you. For that, I apologize. You’re right. When we were kids, we had different interests. You were doing your best. I was uncomfortable because back then I was always uncomfortable, but then I knew about your dad and my mum and that made it more uncomfortable. And that’s just that.”
“That is that, love,” he said gently. “And I’m glad we’ve gone over it.”
It just sucked how awesome he was.
Uncomfortable, even difficult conversation, we had it, we said what we had to say, we were honest, and then we were done, and he ended it with his lovely brogue all gentle.
He was impossible.
“Thrilled for you that you’re glad,” I mumbled and took a sip of my own drink.
He chuckled.
Completely impossible.
I was saved from responding by the server putting the devilled eggs in front of us.
“Thank you,” I said to her.
“No problems,” she replied and took off.
I went for an egg.
Dair went in after me.
“They source local,” I told him as he took a bite. “And just to say, you chose well with the chicken pot pie for your main.”
He winked at me.
That was so hot, my heart stuttered to a complete halt.
“Glad you approve,” he said through egg while I restarted my heart. He swallowed and pointed at the remaining portion (why they didn’t serve four for two people, I didn’t know, restaurants had a knack for odd numbers, and it drove me batty—I mean, it made sense to give four portions, two eggs, halved, equaled four, for goodness sake). “And that was bloody magnificent,” he finished.
Why did it delight me he liked my favorite restaurant in Prescott?
“You eat the second one,” I told him after I consumed mine. “I got the pork tenderloin, which is going to be heavy, and you eat like a linebacker.”
“I eat like a tighthead prop,” he corrected.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
He grinned at me and took the last egg.
