Page 77 of Ardently Yours

Arden tips his head to the side. “‘Offended’ implies that I’m angry. I’m not angry. I’m . . . hurt, I suppose . . . that you believe I would do such a poor job of caring for you. I’m also confused.”

Now I’m the one who doesn’t understand. “Confused by what?”

He indicates the table setting with the blade of his hand. “What would be the purpose of the silverware if the only thing you were served was a single bite of finger food?” His question isn’t sarcastic or unkind. He sounds genuinely concerned.

In my mind, I’d moved on to the way I’d eaten the bread wrong. He’s still on the appetizer debacle. “I don’t know what the purpose of any of that silverware is. I was raised with one fork, one knife, and a spoon. Occasionally we had a salad fork or a soup spoon. For all I know, this silverware is some sort of art installation meant to shock and awe. I was thinking about something and not paying attention. I thought I heard Martin announce that it was dinner, and the cart wasn’t here.”

His lips press together. “You’re uncomfortable here.”

“Your boat is beautiful.”

He nods. “But you’re uncomfortable.”

“This is you and me and a handful of crew members, and I can’t even hazard a guess at how many times I’ve violated etiquette that I don’t even know exists, since I came on board.”

“Don’t worry about that. This is meant to be fun.”

“I can’t help it. I know you don’t understand because this is normal for you, but for me, it’s intimidating. I can’t imagine eating every meal like this. Bronnie will wreck these chairs and this carpet. She’s four and she’s messy. There isno wayI’m spending every meal telling her to be quiet, sit with her back straight, her knees together, and her ankles crossed. Does anyone in your life speak to you in a normal volume? Everyone acts like they turned the sound down and forgot what emotions are, and there are only two of us here tonight. We didn’t eat a meal at the masquerade, and I still did fifty things that let people know I didn’t belong there. What if I were your date at one of those black-tie galas you go to and screwed up like I did with the bread in front of everyone?”

“Mywife,” he says.

“What?”

Eyes steady on mine, he says, “I’m going to marry you, Charlotte. You won’t be my date. You’ll be my wife.”

I blink, my heart racing, my pulse headed for the stratosphere. “Where I’m from that’s the kind of thing you ask someone, not tell them.”

Arden shrugs. “If I asked you tonight, you’d say no. But I already know that you’ll bemy wifeat the Harcourt Gala. You’ll bemy wifeat any dinner party we host. And if anyone has a problem with you, they can find another table, because they won’t be welcome at ours. If you pick up the wrong fork, then I’m using the wrong one too because your feelings are the ones that matter.”

His words try to envelop me, warmth wrapping me in reassurance from my head to my toes. I resist the urge to cuddle into them, take a deep breath, hold it, then blow it out. “If this weekend was an audition, I’d never get the part.”

Arden’s brows come down, and his dark blue eyes snap. “This isn’t a test. It’s you and I building a life together. One step at a time.”

I nod. “You’re not ever moving to Blackwater. If we can make this work, it’ll be me coming to you. And you deserve someone who won’t embarrass you.”

“Charlotte, no—”

“I don’t like champagne or even wine. I’d rather have a margarita or a whiskey sour or a plain old Coke or Pepsi.”

I gesture to the table. “I have no idea what anything we ate for lunch was. I choked down something that was basicallyfish pudding. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but foamy fish isrevolting.”

“I would never expect you to eat something you don't like.” Exasperation laces his tone.

I shake my head. “I was trying to get this right. This is low-stakes. But if we’re together in public, the press will make fun of every ignorant, backwoods thing I say and do. Rochelle showed me articles about us after the masquerade. The stuff they came up with claiming they had ‘a source’ was insane. One of them said I was a housekeeper in a hotel, another said I was a stripper, and another one said I was a waitress in a diner, you came in for coffee and fell in love at first sight. When people realize I really did work at Teresa’s diner, that one is growing to stick. No one assumed I was part of your social sphere.”

“You’re better off not reading those articles. It’s not good for anyone’s mental health.”

“You know your peers and colleagues will talk about you behind your back because of me, and your parents will eventually hate me.”

His jaw flexes. “The more time they spend with you, the more they’ll love you because you’re a genuinely incredible woman. My peers and colleagues will be jealous of me. The press are difficult, but it isn’t because of any failing on your part.”

I push the idea of hordes of press harassing us to the back of my mind to worry about another day.One crisis at a time, thank you very much.“I can learn how to laugh like a rich person and read a French menu for special occasions, but I can’tlivelike this every day, and I won’t make Bronnie do it either.”

Arden closes his eyes briefly and gives a small shake of his head. Abruptly, he stands and steps around the table, offering me his hand. Heavy silence descends between us like taffy, stretching, thinning.

“You’re angry at me?” I ask hesitantly.

Eyes narrowed, Arden shakes his head. “Not even a little. But I’m furious with myself.”

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