We settled into our seats, and the air hostess gave us each acrystal glass of hand-pressed orange juice and a small plate bearing a perfectly tiny piece of toast loaded with a mound of smoked salmon and a little sprig of dill. I stared at the food, my stomach clenched in knots.
Finally, Cal spoke. “Tell me what’s wrong, Deena.”
I blinked away from the salmon to look at him. He was still dressed in that shirt and slacks, looking casual and expensive all at once. I wished he were the type of man I could bare my heart to. Someone who would hold my secrets in his hands and keep them safe for me. But he wouldn’t. He’d use them against me to get the upper hand. I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
His jaw bulged as he clenched it. He sipped his juice. I stared at my plate but didn’t touch the bite.
“Deena.”
I looked up.
“Can you do me a favor?”
Frowning, I shrugged. “What is it?”
“Eat the smoked salmon for me. You barely ate last night, and you haven’t eaten anything all morning.”
He’d noticed that? Why did he care? I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
His brows drew together, and he ground his teeth. Then, softly, he said, “Please? It would make me feel better.”
And why should I care about making you feel better?I wanted to snap. But I’d played the angsty teen all weekend, and it turned out to be an exhausting role when you weren’t hopped up on teenage hormones. I picked up the tiny piece of toast and put it in my mouth. It was delicious, and I felt slightly better when it hit my stomach.
We took off. It would be a short flight of just under two hours, and I settled into my seat to stare out the window. The stewardesscame by, and Cal murmured to her, but I ignored them both—until a full breakfast spread appeared in front of me, along with a gigantic vat of coffee.
“Oh,” I said to the stewardess as she popped a table out of a hidden compartment, spread out a white tablecloth, and began placing the various dishes on the table. “I’m not hungry.”
“Leave the food,” Cal ordered, and the stewardess gave him a little half-nod, half-bow, and scurried away.
I glared at him. “Are you so much of a control freak that you won’t let me feed myself when I’m hungry?”
“You can either eat the food or tell me what’s bothering you, Deena.”
I scoffed. “Those are my only options?”
“Yes,” he ground out.
It infuriated me that he pretended to care—but I could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t going to let this go. My voice came out like the cracking of a whip. “I’m angry because my parents never treated me as well as when they thought I was datingyou.”
By the expression on his face, I knew he had no idea what I meant. He confirmed it by saying, “Okay. And?”
“And I want them to be proud of me because ofme, Cal!” I pinched my lips, and to my horror, pressure built in my throat, behind my eyes. Instead of indulging the pain swelling inside me, I went on the attack. “You have no idea what it’s like to be rejected because you won’t act how you’re expected to. I never wanted to get married and pop out babies. I wanted more, and they judged me for it. When I got accepted to college, they weren’t proud, Cal. They weremad. I was informed that there was no money for me, so I could just get those silly female ideas out of my head and marry Austin before he came to his senses and left me. I had topractically run away in order to go to college. I took on so much freaking debt just to get an education. They could have snapped their fingers and fixed my problems. The way you snap your fingers and fix yours. ButI can’t do that.” I stabbed my chest with my finger, then turned it on him. “And thenyouappeared out of nowhere and acted like the perfect boyfriend, and you showed me what life could have been like if they actually loved me. But they don’t. They only love me if I’m attached toyou.”
A tear fell from my eye, and I brushed it away, utterly ashamed of myself. I was a grown woman. I had my own business. My own apartment. My ownlife. Why did I crave my parents’ approval so much? Why did it hurt so damn much to know I’d never truly get it?
Cal was quiet for a long time. Long enough that the sniffles coming from me mortified me. Then, quietly, he said, “I’m sorry, Deena.”
“Yeah, well, you should be,” I snapped, but the heat had gone out of my words. I just felt tired. I grabbed the mug of coffee and put my sugar and cream into it, then drank half of it in one gulp before refilling the mug from the big carafe the flight attendant had left. My fingers strayed to the basket of perfect, flaky pastries, and I found myself tearing a pain au chocolat into pieces that I could stuff into my mouth.
I gave up on my stubbornness, picked up my fork, and tucked into the creamy scrambled eggs on my plate. By the time I’d finished eating, I’d put a serious dent in the mound of food that had been left for me, and I couldn’t resist the urge to lift my gaze to Cal.
He’d eaten his own breakfast, and he met my stare steadily.
“Looks like you got what you wanted. I told you what was bothering me and I ate the food. Are you happynow?”
He picked up his coffee and took a sip. He drank it black, I noticed. “No,” he finally said as he set it back down on its saucer. “I’m not. But it’ll do for now.”
We landed, and two cars were waiting for us on the tarmac. This was where we parted ways. Cal walked me to the first car and held the door open for me.
