He cleared his throat. “Why does this have to be our last night together?”
“You know it would never work. Surely by now, you can see that our lives are too different. We’ve already talked about this.”
He scooted over to the edge of the couch in order to actually be able to see her face. “No, we didn’t talk about it. You always make excuses or skirt around the issue.”
“I do not.” She paused as though considering his words. “Okay, so maybe I do. It’s not easy to talk about.”
“The important things in life aren’t normally easy, but that doesn’t mean you should run from them.”
She sighed. “I’m trying to do better—to take things head-on. I never thought about it before you mentioned it, but I guess I’ve got some of my father in me.”
“You never talk about him.”
“That’s because there isn’t much to say. My mother used to say he was a dabbler. He dabbled with this or dabbled with that until something bigger or better came along. And if things got too tough, he ran. When my mum got pregnant, he ran.”
“I’m sorry.”
Zoe shrugged. “It’s okay. My mum was enough for me. But the one thing he did give me was my artistic ability. I have a painting in my bedroom that he did of the snowcapped Alps. It’s the only thing of value that I got from him.”
Demetrius liked that she was letting him in. At last, she was letting down her guard. He settled back on the couch next to her. Her cheek once again pressed to his chest. He wondered if she could hear how hard his heart was pounding.
She played with a loose thread on the shirtsleeve. “Would you still want me if I had a secret?”
His body stiffened. “What secret?”
“Relax.” She pressed a hand to his chest. “We’re talking hypothetically. You know, what if I had a criminal past?”
His muscles eased upon accepting that they were playing a game of what-if. “I don’t know what it matters because you don’t have a criminal past.”
“But if I did, would you still care about me? Would you have still asked me to marry you?”
He wrapped a lock of her long dark hair around his finger. “Of course. How could I say no when you look at me with those big brown eyes of yours?”
“Demetrius, I’m being serious. I want you to be honest.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t know where this conversation was going, but he suddenly didn’t like the direction—not one little bit. “Fine. I don’t know what I’d have done. I guess it would have all depended on the secret. If you’re an ax murderer, then probably not. If it’s something else, we’d face it—together.”
“How can you say that? There’s no way you can marry someone who isn’t perfect—someone who would be a princess and eventually your queen.”
He wanted to change the subject. This conversation was making him exceedingly uncomfortable. “Why don’t we talk about the mural? Do you think you’ll have enough time to finish it—”
“Demetrius, this is important. Don’t change the subject.”
“Fine. I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t perfect, but you are. So it’s a moot point.”
“But you don’t know that. We didn’t know each other that long when we eloped. What if you found out after we married that I couldn’t have children? That I couldn’t give you any heirs to the throne?”
His chest tightened. He never would have guessed this was what she’d been holding back. “You can’t have kids?”
“I can...at least I think I can.” Her hand slid up over his chest. “Relax. Remember this is just a round of what-if.”
“I don’t like this game.” A frown pulled at his lips.
“Humor me. If you knew I couldn’t have kids, would you have stuck by me?”
“Of course.”
“Out of sympathy?”
“Stop. I’m done with this game. I knew everything I needed to know when I married you.”
He tickled her side, knowing all of her sensitive spots. He was tired of all this serious conversation. He wanted to see her smile again.
The corners of her mouth lifted, but she swiped away his hand. “I’m not talking about that. I’m serious. How did you know that marrying me wouldn’t be a mistake?”
“Fine. If you want to know, I had you checked out. I might have been a little reckless back then, but I did have to be cautious.”