Prologue
The kitchen lightswere dimmed and candles flickered softly around the room. I made steak and potatoes, with seasoned asparagus, and even though this wasn’t the first dinner I’d prepared for him, my stomach was aflutter with butterflies.
“God, this is so delicious, babe, really.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled his sexy smile, the one I was falling in love with. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal like this inyears.”
I was glad he liked the dinner. I wanted to make him something special. His mood had been off for the last few days, and I wanted to make him feel better, more relaxed. We’d been dating for three months, sneaking in time together from our busy work schedules. It had beenexactlythree months, and I know it sounded cheesy, but I was falling for him fast. I wanted to celebrateus,and the twelve weeks we’d shared together. I’m a hopeless romantic.
And I thought it was about time he met my family.
I thought making a Porterhouse steak for him would seal the deal, hoping he’d be just as excited about the idea of meeting my crazy family as I was about them meeting him.
“So, I was thinking,” I said, twirling my fork through the butter on my mashed potatoes. My voice was soft and low.
“Uh oh, that sounds like trouble,” he chuckled, taking a long sip of his red wine. He set down the empty glass softly when he was done and a stain of deep crimson wine circled around his lips.
“What do you think about me inviting you to dinner with my family?” The words came out a lot weaker than I wanted them to. The last thing I wanted was to sound like one of those whiny, nagging girlfriends. I wanted us to be different than what I heard my friends in relationships complaining about. I wanted us to be real. I wanted to be in love.
His eyes darted up to mine and narrowed. “We haven’t been together that long.” He shook his head, his wine stained mouth pulled down at the corners, making him look macabre. “I think it’s too soon to meet your parents.”
I blinked up at him, stunned, not knowing what to say next. Three months was a pretty long time for me. One of the girls I worked with was dating a guy for not even four months, and she was already wearing a two-carat diamond engagement ring.
He poured himself another glass of wine, almost spilling it over the rim. “Aw, babe, come on. Don’t look at me like I just kicked your puppy.” He took another gulp at the wine, and the stain around his mouth darkened. “You’re young Brooke, and meeting parents is important to you,butI’m much older. I can tell you it’s not. It’s totally overrated.”
I felt a little sick. “Three months though, you know? Did you know it’s our three-month anniversary today?” I asked, quietly, feeling my heart thudding faster in my chest.
He forked another piece of steak into his mouth and chewed loudly. “Anniversary of what?”
“Of us. Together.” My voice cracked, and I instantly felt like I wanted to throw my potatoes at him.
“Us? Together? You mean…how long we’ve been hooking up?” he said, his glance wandering to his phone to see if he had any messages.
Hooking up?
The words felt like slaps to my skin. He thought all we’ve been doing for the last three months was hooking up? I silently dropped my fork onto my plate and fisted my hands in my lap. I didn’t know if I should hold my tongue or let loose on him. Heat flushed through my chest like I was feeling my blood actually starting to boil. My teeth ground down as I watched him continue to eat and drink like his words weren’t knives slashing into my flesh. He was halfway done with his steak and on the second bottle of wine, and I was having a mental and emotional breakdown right across from him. Yet, he noticed none of it.
I needed to be honest with myself.
I was starting to feel uncomfortable about the sneaking around at work. Why did I always have to go out of my way to do things for him? Why didn’t he ever invite me over to his place and cook me a nice romantic meal? Why did we have to keep it under wraps?
“I get the feeling that I’m more involved in this relationship than you are. What the hell is that about?” I blurted out, angrily. Totally sounding like a nagging girlfriend there. I needed to rein it back in and calm down.
His hands stilled, fork midway up to his lips. Immediately, he dropped it clattering back down into the plate.
I didn’t care. I was pissed off and getting more pissed by the second. There was no controlling my mouth. “I feel like I’m in, like, half a relationship. I don’t want to be a secret. I’m an adult. We’re adults, and I just feel like—”
He held up his hand to stop me from spewing more crap. “Brooke, I love that it’s just me and you. Okay? No one else needs to come into our bubble. Don’t you like it just me and you?”
“I like it, but I kind of want more. At least a dinner with my family. Or, something else, maybe?” What else maybe, why did I say that? All I asked for was a dinner with my family. How hard was that?
“What else?” he sighed, leaning back on the chair and offering me a glassy-eyed stare. “What more do you want from me? I thought we were happy with the way things were going. I thought everything was perfect. Are you saying it’s not perfect, because then I’m not sure—”
“I’m not saying that! I love the attention you give me. I love that when you’re here, there’s no work or people bugging us. I love that you turn your phone off and just spend time with me, okay? I love that you cannot keep your hands off me. I love our sex life. But we’re always running out of time. I just want more of you. That’s all.”
He ran a hand over his face and rubbed at his brow as if to ward off the headache that was me. “If this is going to become an issue, then maybe we shouldn’t spend time together. Maybe, we’ve run our course.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I snapped, calling his bluff.
He shoved his chair back from the table. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?” he growled.
