I titter quietly. “You could sit down? Maybe?”
He looks at me and his lips curl into a boyish half-smile. “Right.” He lowers into his seat. “Can you keep a secret?” He grins embarrassedly. “I’m nervous as fuck.”
“Who am I to judge you for having a secret?” I say.
That’s a loaded question. God knows I have secrets of my own. What would he say if he discovered all the things I’m hiding?
That I’ve been researching his case long before we even met?
That I spent months exchanging love letters with him under a false name?
That I’ve got pretty huge doubts he committed the crimes he pled guilty to at his trial?
I just want to understand. I want to understand the parts of his life story that don’t make sense.
I almost say it out loud. I swear I do. Because the deeper I fall for him, the heavier this truth weighs on my chest. But I’m a chicken. And I don’t want to ruin this moment. I’ve dreamed about Eli wanting me for so long and the reality far surpasses anything I ever came up with in my head.
So, I go with something less likely to stir up trouble. “I’m just as nervous as you are,” I say with a smile. I watch the tension relax out of his shoulders.
He smiles. “Dig in,” he coaxes me gently, a look of anticipation on his face.
I plow my fork into the mouthwatering dish and take a bite. “Oh my god. This is really delicious.” The rich flavors virtually crackle on my tongue. “Eli, you knocked this out of the park.”
“I can’t take all the credit. Ma helped,” he confesses.
I giggle. “Is that so?”
He nods. “Even though I was indisputably the best cook behind bars, I figured my prison menu was probably not the best way to impress you. Potato flakes and canned meatballs are not the way to a girl's heart.”
The aforementioned heart skitters in my chest. “You're trying to get into the girl's heart?”
Eli fights a grin and speaks decidedly. “I am. If that's okay with you.”
There’s nothing like a man who knows what he wants. And this man wants me. “That's okay with me,” I whisper and it might just be the paprika in this recipe but my cheeks are flaming.
The conversation flows easily as we go through our dinner and a bottle of red wine. We laugh and banter about our crazy families, about small town life, about dumb fleeting thoughts we’ve had but never dared utter out loud for fear of being committed to an institution. I think everybody has those kinds of thoughts now and then, right?
Anyway, one niggling thought keeps coming up over and over all night—it looks like we’re headed toward a relationship and I don’t want to start it off with lies. I know that Eli is hiding the truth about his case. And god knows I’ve got a heaping pile of secrets of my own.
I clear my throat and grab my lady balls. It’s time to dive into a very important conversation.
“I need to ask you something,” I announce and Eli looks up from his plate.
His expression goes wary. “About?”
“About your wife. Y-your ex-wife,” I dare to say.
He grunts and wipes a palm down his face. “Christ, Jessa. I don't want to talk about her. Especially not tonight.”
I don’t want to be pushy but I need to. Because it feels like we're building something. And I want our foundation to be solid. I need to tell him what my research has dug up. I need to tell him everything. “I want to know you, Eli. As much as I want you to know me.”
“I get it,” he exhales roughly. “You’ve shared your past with me. I appreciate that. But my past isn't like yours.”
“How so?”
“Because the person I hate most is the person who gave me the greatest gift,” he begins, his tone coarse. “The woman I hate most is the person who gave me the little girl who is the center of my world. Gabby gave birth to my daughter, then she turned her back on both of us. Do you know how fucking confusing that is?”
“Those emotions will never make sense if you don't face them,” I tell him.
“Fine,” he grits out. “I’ll face them. One day. But not today, and not with you hovering over my shoulder.” He flinches at his own words. “Sorry, I'm being an incredible asshole right now.” He scrubs a hand along his jaw. “Look, if I'm going to open up to anyone, it's going to be you but just...just not right now. Give me time…” He offers a meek expression. “Please?"
Reluctantly, I concede. “Fine.”
He exhales heavily and reaches for my hand. “The truth is…I…I like you. A lot.”
“I like you, too. A lot.” Our fingers naturally intertwine.
He lifts my hand and places a kiss on my knuckles. “I just want tonight to be special.”
“It is,” I assure him. “It’s incredibly romantic.”
Eli gives me a sex-hooded stare from across the table. He crooks his finger at me. “Come here.” I round the table and he pulls me into his lap. “Give me kisses?”
Smiling, I brush my lips to his and we get lost together for a few sweet moments.
He looks at me, his brown eyes flickering in the candlelight. “You’re Callie’s nanny. I don’t take my involvement with you lightly. I know what’s at stake. I wouldn’t risk it if I weren’t serious about you.”
“What are you saying, Eli?” I need to be clear. I don’t want to misread his intentions.
His forehead furrows. “I want to be with you. Fuck, do I want to be with you, Jessa. But I don’t know how to be Prince Charming. I can’t give you some…some Hallmark romance.” He drops his head and shakes it like
