“I mean, it was a long time ago, but yeah.” His chuckle a bit dry on the end there, he sat back, his hands tucked under his arms. “It’s there. A history there.”
Well, hell. My lips parted. “And that’s alright? I mean, the groom was okay with that?”
Obviously, since the pair exchanged nuptials and Ramses had said this was in the past, but still.
Legitimate humor touched his eyes now. He angled his head back and forth. “Prinze, her husband, and I have a history too. And it was rough back then when it was all going down. Not going to lie.”
“And now?”
“He tolerates me.” Light returned to his eyes, and I was glad for it. I found I didn’t quite like him too serious. If anything, I appreciated how laid-back he was, not so easy for most people, me. His head tilted. “He’s definitely softened to me over the years, though. We aren’t best bros or anything, but we’re far from the days of him wanting to kick my ass.”
“My God, had it gotten that bad?”
“We may or may not have thrown down in the hallway in high school.”
Jesus, I thought, but he grinned.
“But like I said, that’s in the past.” He pushed his glass away. “Obviously. They got married, and that makes me happy since she is. Prinze is good to her, there for her. He loves her, and how could I want anything other than that for her? She deserves that.”
How very mature of him. Even still, I could imagine that would be hard. “Are you happy?”
Maybe a too personal question, and definitely one I had no right to ask.
I lifted a hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” But I noticed he wouldn’t allow me to go away, pinning me to the creaky booth where I sat with his gaze. That easy grin returned to his lips, his fingers pushing away those brown curls. “But you can’t ask me that without giving me some of your dirty laundry.”
Well, would you look at him? Thinking, he could go there with me. I tapped my glass with my nail. “You’re being cocky again.”
“Am I?” And when his fingers eased against mine, my breath stalled, my tummy tight. A flourish of heat ghosted over my knuckles when he touched them, his boyish expression teasing once again. “How about this?”
How about this, his thumb brushing the center of my palm. It was such a subtle touch but drenched my entire core in hot lava. I felt like I flooded my panties.
What the hell?
Absolute panic on my end, and a man of his age definitely shouldn’t have this much game. “How old are you?”
It was like I needed to know, that it mattered for some reason. Like this was anything other than just a shared pizza between two strangers.
“How old ar
e you, Bri?” His cockiness showed once again. “Only fair if you tell me too.”
Only fair, but since I wasn’t going to admit that, I stayed silent.
He got me, goddamn him, his chuckle light when he sat back. I noticed he didn’t let go of my hand, his lengthy digits still playing across my knuckles. “I’m in my twenties, if that matters.”
“Well, I’m in my thirties.” I shrugged. “If that matters.”
“It doesn’t.” No lie in his eyes, and when he leaned forward, that entire hard chest of his hit the table. At least, it appeared to be hard.
God, did I want to touch it.
I wanted him to touch me. What the hell? “And I’m divorced.”
“Doesn’t matter.” His smile slow on his lips. “You’re not married now?”
“No.”