The kitchen doors swing open again and I force myself to keep my eyes on my plate, on the fork in my hand, on the way I’m holding it like I’ve always done this.
I finish before Jax does, even though I barely ate. I set the fork down and push the plate slightly away from me.
He looks up. “Already?”
I nod.
“Do you want to stop and say hi to your dad? I’m sure he’d?—”
“No.” It comes out too fast.
He pauses. “You sure? That was part of the plan.”
“Can we go?”
He looks at me, then he reaches for his glass and downs the rest of the whiskey in one go. “Yeah,” he says, setting it down. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’m tired.” I say, already getting up.
He doesn’t push it, he simply pulls a few bills from his wallet and lowers them on the table without looking, already stepping away.
I glance down. It’s too much. More than the meal. Way more.
He doesn’t wait for change and when I look back at him, he’s already walking toward the door like it doesn’t even matter.
Before we get back in the car, Jax grabs my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “It was good. Really. I just—” I shrug. “Long day.”
He watches me, not convinced.
“I’m fine,” I add.
“If you say so.”
As soon as we get in the car, Ronny hands Jax a white box and Jax gives it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
He leans back slightly, a hint of a smile. “You never asked what my favorite food is.”
I frown a little. “Okay…”
“Open it.”
I lift the lid to reveal a slice of chocolate cake, its thick frosting layered between soft crumbs. The edges are uneven, like it was cut in a rush, and across the top, a single word is written in white icing:Congrats.
My throat tightens. “You can’t say that.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“I don’t know if I got in.”
“You did.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know what I saw.”
