End of Story(73)

“Yes. And the ugly old shirt.”

“Don’t you dare call that tee ugly. Not only are they a great band, but that shirt has been washed so many times and is so thin I can make out the shape of your breasts through it. That is an awesome shirt and you should definitely wear it around me more often.”

I frowned. Which wasn’t easy because the mask had set and tightened. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

“No?”

“I can be messy and bitchy and difficult,” I said. “Are you sure you want to deal with all that on a daily basis? Is this really something you can love?”

“You, messy and bitchy? I had no idea. Where have you been hiding these behaviors?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

He pressed his lips together and his eyes welled with tears. Wait. Those weren’t tears. The fucker was laughing at me. And he wasn’t even bothering to hide it. This was outrageous.

“I am trying to be honest with you,” I said. “I don’t want you to have unreasonable expectations that I can’t live up to in the long term.”

“Susie, you are worthy of being loved. You do know that, don’t you?”

It took me a moment to answer. To wrinkle my nose and smile and say, “Of course. It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

“I would just prefer that if you’re going to change your mind about being in love with me, because you discover something that is a deal breaker, that we get that out of the way sooner than later.”

“Not going to happen,” he said in a serious tone.

“But you don’t know that for sure! There’s no way you can!”

He sighed. “This is about the divorce certificate.”

“Among other things,” I admitted.

“Okay, Princess. Go ahead. Tell me how awful you are. Talk me out of loving you.”

“Well...”

“I’m waiting,” he said.

“This was supposed to be more of a visual presentation.”

“Your legs look incredibly long in those tight little shorts,” he said, head cocked to the side to take in the view.

“They give me a bit of a muffin top. Did you want to see?”

He just shrugged.

“Ooh. I know, I can be jealous at times. That’s a pretty annoying habit.”

“Yeah. You got upset about Jane. I got upset about Austin. Guess we both need to work through that, huh?” He yawned again and cracked his neck. The man was so not taking this seriously. “But if we both agree not to date other people it would probably take care of that issue.”

“True.”

“Next?”

“I don’t know.” My shoulders slumped. “I once worked with someone who mispronounced chic as chick and I disliked her so much I never corrected her.”

He nodded. “That is petty. I’ll give you that. What else have you got?”

“I see now that I should have taken the time to write a speech.”

“Preparation is important.” He smiled. “I feel it’s only fair to tell you that I’m quite enjoying the cute dimples above your knees. If you’re trying to turn me off, you’re failing miserably.”

“My bad hair and attitude would have scared off most of my exes.”

“Idiots.”

“Yeah.”

“I knew telling you I loved you would get a reaction. But I have to admit, I did not see this coming,” he said. “You know how I panicked and kissed you that time?”

I nodded.

“Do you think maybe this is you panicking?”

“Maybe.”

“Princess, now that I’m back at work, I get up earlier than you. I give you your first coffee of the day. I see you every morning before you have a chance to do all of the makeup and everything. I consider it an honor to be the man who gets to see you half-asleep with your hair in your face and dried drool on your chin.”

“I don’t drool in my sleep,” I said, outraged. “The rest, however, is valid.”

“If you think I give a fuck that you want to put on something old and comfortable then you are sadly mistaken. And it’s not as if you’ve ever made any real attempt to tone down the things you say around me.” He crooked his finger in my direction. “Come here.”

I climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me to his chest.

“You’re going to get algae face mask on you,” I said.

“I don’t care,” he mumbled. “I know who you are and I am not going to change my mind. I am not some careless asshole who’s going to mess with your heart.”

“I know you’re not, but...”

He pressed a kiss to my messy hair. “But?”

“This would probably be my neuroses making an appearance.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Want to get Greek for dinner? You could get the gyro platter and I’ll get the moussaka and then we’ll swap.”

He smiled. “Sounds good.”

My cell vibrated on the coffee table. Mom flashed up on screen. “I should probably get that. I’ve been expecting this call.”

In lieu of a response, he started rubbing my back. A suitable reaction to any contact with my family. The man was learning.