“He asked me a question. I was being polite.”
“You don’t smile at me like that.”
“Preston—”
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know,” I say quickly. “Some random guy. He didn’t know how to choose ripe tomatoes, and I helped him. That’s all.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why were you standing there so long? Talking and laughing like you’ve known him for years?”
“I wasn’t laughing,” I protest. “He made a joke about his wife, and I smiled. That’s it.”
Preston reaches out and grasps my wrist, the same one he grabbed earlier this week. The bruise is still there, faint butvisible, and his fingers wrap around it like he knows exactly where to press.
“You think I’m stupid, Tessa?” His voice is low, calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes my skin crawl.
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t think that.”
“Then don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” My voice cracks. “I swear, Preston. He just asked me about tomatoes. That’s all.”
He squeezes harder, his thumb digging into the bruise. I bite down on my lip to keep from gasping.
“I don’t like it when you talk to other men,” he says. “You know that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me, his grip tightening until I can feel my pulse pounding against his fingers.
Then, just as suddenly as he grabbed me, he lets go.
“Good,” he says, his expression softening. “I’m just looking out for you, babe. You’re too trusting. You don’t see the way men look at you.”
I cradle my wrist against my chest, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “I know.”
“I love you,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.”
“I know,” I say again because it’s the only thing I can say.
“Good girl.” He leans in and kisses my forehead, his touch gentle now. “Let’s finish shopping. I’m starving.”
He takes the cart from me and starts pushing it down the aisle, acting like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just grab mein the middle of a grocery store, causing the bruise on my wrist to throb with every beat of my heart.
I follow him, my hands shaking as I shove them into my jacket pockets.
I should leave him.
I know I should.
