“But it’s embarrassing,” I mutter.
“You’re going to have my children. We’re going to be together for the rest of our goddamned lives. You better get used to a little embarrassment here and there.”
“Fine,” I say, picking up a napkin and unfolding it. “But I refuse to look at you as I say it.”
“Are you serious?” he laughs.
I raise the napkin and let it fall down to cover my face, grinning like a fool and finding that I don’t care, not now, not tonight.
“Basically, I had a super crush on you when I was a teenager and first discovered your books, okay? And part of that crush was that I sometimes imagined you telling me I’d be a successful writer and, well, here it is, it’s happened. And I’m still struggling to believe this is all real.”
“It is,” Tanner says, snatching the napkin away so that we’re staring with immediate fire into each other’s eyes. “So get the fuck used to it.”
I pick up my champagne glass and raise it. “Okay, then,” I say. “Here’s to getting the fuck used to it.”
He smirks and we clink glasses, and then Tanner gestures for the waiter.
“We’ll both have the steak,” he says. “Medium rare.”
“Whoah,” I giggle once the waiter has taken our order and left us. “That was a pretty freaking presumptuous move. I thought I made it very clear I was having the celery vinegar dish.”
“Exactly,” Tanner growls. “I had to intervene for your own good. That could’ve been brutal. So, Tess …” He leans forward, playfulness glinting in his eyes, his lips twitching subtly upward. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask, self-consciousness pricking at me.
“What’s your favorite genre of books?”
“Fantasy, yours?”
“Thrillers.”
“Okay,” he says, nodding. “And what’s your—”
“Nah uh, you asked first. Now it’s my turn.”
He holds his palms upwards. “Fair enough. Shoot.”
“Um …” I find myself smiling in a silly way as I realize I didn’t actually have a question prepared. “What was the first story you ever wrote?”
“A snail who loses his shell and has to fight an alien to get it back. Yours?”
I glance down at the table, biting my lip. And then immediately get annoyed at myself for biting my lip.
“Drat,” I say … and then immediately get annoyed at myself for saying drat.
“What is it?” Tanner asks.
“I guess I didn’t anticipate you asking me the same question, which was pretty stupid,” I murmur. “But yeah, my first story, well, it was about this little girl who wakes up on Christmas morning and opens up two gifts, and they’re her parents, gift wrapped and delivered by Santa. It turns out her parents have just been lost all those years. They didn’t die when she was a baby.”
Tanner reaches across the table and takes my hand firmly, squeezing in a way that tells me I’ll never have to face this alone.
“You don’t have to talk about this,” he says, “but if you want to, I’m here.”
“I haven’t told you how they died, have I?”
Tanner shakes his head slowly, waiting, patience written across his features.
I glance around at the restaurant, at the sparkly opulence of it all, making sure that nobody else will be able to hear. Our table is several feet away from the nearest one, jazz music playing softly in the background. This is just for us.
Looking back to Tanner, I murmur, “My mother died in childbirth, giving birth to me. Obviously.” I laugh mirthlessly. “And my dad was killed in a home invasion. He broke into this young couple’s house and tried to … oh, God, he tried to do something terrible to this pregnant woman, Tanner. The husband managed to kill him and—And maybe that’s why I was so drawn to Promenade in the Rain, because my dad, he died just like the villain in your book. Can you believe that? My own father …”
Tanner stands up and walks around the table, ignoring the looks he gets from the neighboring patrons. He reaches down and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me close to his chest. I inhale the security of him, feeling like the world’s biggest dork for sobbing like this in a fancy restaurant.
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking a step back. “Will you excuse me a sec?”
“Of course,” Tanner says, smoothing a strand of hair behind my ear, tickling me wonderfully. “But what did we say about the S-word?”Chapter SixteenTannerAfter the meal, I link arms with Tess and together we walk out of the restaurant, heading back into the night. My head is clear after only one glass of champagne – I’ve never been a huge drinker – but my thoughts are flooded with Tess’s closeness, the sheer proximity of her causing constellations to bloom throughout me.
It was never going to be just sexual with Tess, but after she shared her heartache about her family, I felt new avenues in our closeness opening up.