I forget to filter myself as I respond. “I’ve never tried it. I wasn’t allowed to drink it.”
He tips my face back. “When were you not allowed to drink it? In high school or more recently?”
I purse my lips. I don’t want to have this conversation. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. When I escaped, I never imagined a day when I would meet someone I might trust enough to tell my saga.
Maybe I could unload my burden on Cannon, but not yet. It will taint everything. He won’t look at me the same with laughter in his eyes.
He rubs my back. “It’s okay, Little one. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Let’s go to the kitchen. So probably no on the coffee. If you’ve never had it, you might think it’s gross. What are you in the mood for? Breakfast or lunch? It’s almost noon. I could make lunch, but if you’d rather have eggs and bacon, I can do that, too.”
When have I ever had food choices? It’s hard to answer him. I’m not sure I’m capable of making decisions like that. It’s kind of overwhelming. “You pick,” I say, following him to the kitchen.
I’m hugging Moby Dick against my chest. I can’t wait to read it. It’s been four years since I read the first chapter, so I’ll start over from the beginning.
When we reach the kitchen, Cannon surprises me by lifting me by the waist and setting me on one of the stools around the island. He meets my gaze. “Are you just being polite, or do you truly not have an opinion?”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Both?”
“Okay. Is there anything you don’t like?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve never eaten anything very exotic before, though, so there could be foods I don’t like.”
“I make a mean sandwich. How does that sound?”
“Amazing.”
He smiles warmly. “You look very pretty in this outfit, by the way. Do you like it, or did you put it on because you didn’t have a lot of options?”
“I like it. I’ve never owned anything this girly or pink.”
“I have a lot of pink in the house, don’t I? I always figured one day I would meet the perfect match for me, and for some reason, I assumed she would like pink.” He shrugs. “But I was guessing. I don’t want you to be stuck in a bubblegum room if you hate it. Say the word and you can change the colors.”
I giggle. “A bubblegum room?”
“Cotton candy?” he teases.
How has this man managed to get me to let down my walls so fast that I’m actually laughing? “I like it.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind…”
“Why do you have a pink room, anyway? And all those toys?” I haven’t commented on his statement that he’s been looking for a perfect match, implying that it was me. It’s too far out there to internalize.
He slides his hands up to cup my neck and shoulders, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. I love it when he does this. It makes me feel important, like I matter. Like he wants my undivided attention by giving me his.
“Toys and pretty things aren’t just for kids, you know. Adults can enjoy them, too.”
I hold his gaze. I’m confused. I get what he’s saying, but why would he have all those things for someone he’s never met? Not all adults like toys. I lick my lips. “It’s kind of a gamble, though, isn’t it? I mean, what if you meet someone who thinks toys are silly?”
“First of all, if I had met someone who thought toys were silly, she wouldn’t have been the right woman for me. I wouldn’t have been attracted to her. But I didn’t. I met someone who immediately carried all the dolls and stuffed animals to the corner of the room to read to them by the light coming from the window.”
I swallow. “You say that like you’ve found your soulmate.”
He lifts a brow. “I believe I have, Little one.”
“Me?” My voice squeals.
“Yes, you.”
My jaw drops. He keeps insinuating things like this, and it’s hard to wrap my head around, let alone believe. I can’t entertain such an idea. I’ll end up hurt badly when he tires of me. It would be better if I didn’t let myself get attached to him. I should leave today.
