Or maybe it was the fact that the man sitting across from me, relaxed, handsome, and quietly watching me over the flicker of candlelight, was somehow both my arranged husbandandthe man I’d been in love with for years.
Either way, I kept having to discreetly pinch myself to make sure it was real. So far though, it sure as heck seemed to be.
A cool breeze drifted through the patio at the fancy place he’d brought me to on the Gold Coast. The lights strung up above us cast everything in a soft glow. The tables were far enough apart to give us the illusion of privacy as the sun dipped low toward the horizon.
I swirled my wine slowly, smiling at him across the table. “This almost makes up for the wedding.”
He laughed. “Almost?”
“You made me marry you in Cubs territory.”
“You wore a Yankees hat.”
“It was a protest.”
He pursed his lips. “It was a declaration of war.”
I smiled into my glass, but when I looked up again, he was studying me with a focused, thoughtful expression he got when something deeper was on his mind. It had been like this all day, light and easy on the surface but threaded with something heavier underneath.
Eventually, he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms loosely over his chest, and cocked his head at me. “So, where do we even begin? Any ideas?”
I let out a slow breath and nodded. “Emma and CB. We should start there. We’ve barely spoken about it, but it’s obviously the biggest elephant in the room right now.”
The corners of his mouth curved up slightly. “Emma and CB.”
God, even saying and hearing those names out loud felt ridiculous now, but we’d been them for so long that it was the logical place to start. “I think we should go back to the beginning. Clear it all up from there.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding after a brief pause. “The beginning. Yeah. That’s probably not a bad place to start.”
I unfurled one finger from around my glass and pointed at him. “You first.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why me?”
“Because you already know why I was there. I joined that Discord purely to complain.”
“You did complain,” he said mildly.
I shrugged. “I wasrightto. That remake was awful.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to be so outspoken about it on a forum forfans.”
“I was passionate,” I argued. “Just like every other anti-social weirdo on that platform. It’s not my fault my passion didn’t completely take the same side as theirs.”
He smiled faintly, which eased the tension just a little. “You went on there knowing you were going to create havoc.”
I shrugged. “I felt it was the one place where people might understand why I was so upset about it. Be honest. The remake butchered the book.” After a brief pause, I got us back on track. “You never have really told me what you were doing there, though. Were you secretly a fan before I showed up and ruined everything for you?”
He thought it over for a beat. “I liked the books, but I’ve rarely watched the movies and I hadn’t watched the one you were sopassionateabout.”
“You liked them?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s pretty unbelievable.”
“Why? A man can’t like the classics? Romance?”
I tilted my head. “Well, no. Theycan, but I don’t know. All along, I’ve just had this feeling that’s not what you were there for. The only thing you told me was that you joined for the discussion threads.”
“I did join for those. I liked reading the analyses of the scenes and people’s opinions of the characters as if they were discussing real people.”
“Sure, but that’s not what I asked.”
