Page 54 of Triple Threat

“I thought you didn’t drink,” I said softly eyeing the empty wine glass in front of him. “Not a judgment at all,” I quickly rushed out. “It just surprises me, that’s all.”

“Ah.” He nodded and smiled a bit ruefully. He set the bottle down and didn’t pour any for himself. “Just because I choose not to, does not mean you need to abstain. My troubles with alcohol are mine. I don’t make others responsible for my comfort nor my sobriety.”

I felt myself turn as red as the wine in my glass.

“I’m really sorry,” I murmured. “It really isn’t any of my business. You’re a grown man and I—”

“Stop,” he said gently, and I lifted my eyes to meet his steady gaze above an equally steady and pleased smile.

“You care,” he said. “It’s not from a place of judgment. I know the difference, Poppet.”

“Right,” I murmured, nodding. “Sorry.”

“What for?” he asked, taking a sip from his water glass.

“I really shouldn’t jump to conclusions. You’ve sort of always done what’s best for me since I was brought here and I really don’t want to make you feel—”

He chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not laughing at you, love. I’m laughing at… well… ‘sort of?’”

“Hey, to be fair there was that one time you hog-tied me on my bed almost naked.”

“To be fair,” he argued good naturedly, “that wasafteryou pulled my best kitchen knife on me.”

I blushed and nodded slowly. “Which was rude, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Not at all, it was perfectly understandable given the circumstances at the time.” He had set down his glass and was rubbing the sweating cylinder up and down between forefinger and thumb, staring into the cool, clear liquid thoughtfully as I tried my duck.

Mm, perfect as always… he was a real talent in the kitchen.

“I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me,” I murmured softly and his green gaze flicked from his water to my eyes.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” he murmured back, the silence stretching between us.

We ate quietly for a while and I complimented the food on its flavor at least once. As we were nearing the end of our meal together, Roan asked me, “Would you like to watch a film with me?”

“What, tonight?” I asked, taken aback. He’d never asked me for anything like this.

“Yes,” he said, and I smiled and nodded.

“I’d like that,” I said not at all surprised to find it was true. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a movie. I’d found the large television in the living room and its entertainment center with all its remotes intimidating, so I hadn’t honestly tried to watch anything yet.

“What are we watching?” I asked curiously.

“An old favorite of mine if you don’t mind,” he said. I cocked my head, and he smiled. “The Bridge on the River Kwai.”

“Never heard of it,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “What’s it about?”

“Ah, a true classic. Released in nineteen fifty-seven and starring Alec Guinness.”

“I don’t… I don’t know who that is,” I said laughing lightly.

“You would know his much older self as Obi-Wan Kenobi in the originalStar Warsfilms starring Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford.”

“Oh, I know who they are.”

“Aye.” He laughed.

I scooted back and got up with Roan, saying, “Here. You let me get this. You cook and clean all the time… let me do the dishes and you go get comfortable and set up the movie. I’ll meet you there.”

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