Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

“You know…my husband’s family is very open about their mistresses. I had to endure so many women, I lost count.”

“Are you trying to imply something, Mrs. du Lac?” I asked.

“Lottie won’t have the same life as me.”

“No,” I gritted. “She won’t.”

She arched a brow but said nothing else.

Since dinner had been cut short, I went up to Lottie’s room—anything to avoid more of her family. I froze in the doorway. Story was there, dropping off a plate of grilled cheese. Her hair was up, messy curls falling around her face. After arranging the plate, she stayed in the room, staring at it silently.

I wondered what was on her mind.

I was fucking desperate for her thoughts.

“Lottie hates grilled cheese,” I said. “So either that’s not for her, or you really are shit at your job.”

She startled and then hurriedly walked to the door without another word.

I grabbed her elbow, catching her. “Why did you bring that?”

I tried to tamp down the anger in my voice, but failed. I’m trying to stop loving her, trying to get over her, and she’s making it fucking impossible.

She averted her gaze, looking at the floor.

I grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze. “Answer me.”

“Because you hate steak,” she spat.

“But why that. Why grilled cheese? I’m a Crowne, why would you think I’d like that?”

“Am I wrong?” she demanded.

“Fucking say it, Snitch.”

“It’s your favorite, Grayson.”

She yanked her chin and arm out of my hold, and continued on her way.

“You’re supposed to hate me, little nun,” I said to her back.

“I do.”

Then why the fuck are you the only one who knows what I really like?

“My dad used to make me grilled cheese.”

She paused in the hallway, partially obscured by shadows. This was how I would talk to her. How I would confess. If we couldn’t have our nights, then I could at least have shadows.

“The edges were always burned and the middle not melted enough, but he’d make it for me himself, late at night in the kitchen. It’s one of the only memories I have of him that isn’t shit.”

Her shoulders dropped, and she turned her head to the side, giving me her soft profile.

Even when you hate me, you’re still the only one I can count on.

But that isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to count on my fucking wife.

And Story is supposed move on.