“Were you ever? Or was it just another lie?”
I crack a couple of eggs into the pan. “I never lied to you.”
She almost chokes on her drink, but coughs it up. “You told me your name was Daniel Harris.”
“Harris was my mother’s maiden name. And I never said my name was Daniel.” I point the spatula in her direction, the idea of spanking her with it becoming more and more favourable. “I told you it was Dan, which is what everyone calls me. You just assumed it was short for Daniel.”
She puffs up her chest. “You never corrected me when I was calling you Daniel.”
“It was better for you that you didn’t know my real name.”
Her fist digs into her wide hip. “So you admit you lied.”
“I protected you from the truth. There’s a difference.”
Her blue eyes stare into me, but there's a hint of warmth to them. “Take your shirt off.”
I tilt my head, wondering if I heard that right. “Excuse me?”
“Let me wash your shirt.”
A smile curves my lips. As I unbutton my shirt, I don’t miss how her eyes roam over the ink on my chest, just like they did years ago when I had her alone in her bedroom. Only I have more ink now. “Here.” I hand her the shirt.
She slides off the stool and takes it into the utility room while I scramble her eggs and unload the bags of shopping on the floor.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s taking her time. Probably scrubbing the stains on the shirt. Or maybe steadying herself again. Either way, she’s not as strong as she’s pretending to be. And it guts me that I hadn’t noticed it before.
I feel her eyes on me before I hear her. Hairs stand toattention. Oil splashes on my chest, reminding me I’m shirtless and I kinda like having her watch me.
“You have more tattoos.”
Yep, she’s definitely looking.
“What’s with the roses?” She waves her glass of juice in my direction.
“A reminder that beautiful things aren’t always what they seem.”
The glass slams against the worktop. “You got that right,” she says with a huff.
“Enough with the digs.” The toaster pops up with two slices of bread. “If anyone lied, it’s you.”
“What did I lie about?”
I butter the bread, chewing over my words while mocking hers in my head.What did I lie about?She knows damn well what she did. A snarl forms on my face as I slide her egg on toast over to her. “Here. Eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.” She slides the plate to the side. “What did I lie about?”
“Just eat the damn food, Rose.” My voice cracks more than I want it to.Fucking choke on it.I turn my back to her and stuff my hand into my pocket and pop a piece of gum from the packet. The first pop of strawberry on my tongue takes the edge off her betrayal, the flavour making it easier to swallow. I rub the tightness away in my chest. As much as her rejection hurts, the thought of anything happening to her squeezes my lungs.
“Tell me. I genuinely don’t know what you think I did to you.”
Turning back to her, I soak in her sincere expression and take back my thoughts.Please don’t choke on it, because then I’ll have to give you the kiss of life.She’s still beautiful. Beautiful but deadly. “Do I have to feed you?”
She lifts a piece of toast covered in egg, folds it over andtears a piece off with her teeth. “Happy?” she mumbles. Melted butter drips down her chin, and she licks it up.
My throat tightens. “Did you talk to your husband like a spoilt brat?” I fold my arms over my chest to hide my clenched fists. Every time I think of that motherfucker I want to punch something.
She swallows, her body tensing as she straightens her spine. “Don’t you ever bring that monster’s name up in my house again.”
