My face is heating up. I didn’t mean it likethat, but if she wants to take it that way—“Shut up,” I say.
“No way, you can’t get out of this one.”
“It was right there!” I pretend to look at my watch, even though I don’t wear one. “And look at that! It’s time for the tiara ceremony.”
Becca groans, and I help her to her feet. I don’t want her to forget about the chocolate comment. I don’t want her to move on and go to that ceremony. I already know they’re keeping her—they want to get her to spill more about her marriage, and they’re hoping my carefully-crafted date will do it, and I hate myself for being part of them trying to get things out of her that are none of their goddamn business.
No, I wish we could just stay here on this balcony forever, lost in our own little world, away from the cameras. I wish I was brave enough not to play off my suggestive comment, to tell her I want her and I need her and I—
Oh,shit.
I can’t even think those words, much less say them.
So instead, I usher Becca downstairs again.
At least with the cameras around, I know I won’t do anything stupid that will ruin any chance of her ever wanting me back.
