Page 63 of Beyond the Stroke

I’ll admit, I did start this whole thing by telling his parents we were already married, so that’s on me.

But getting married isn’t an option. After everything I experienced with my parents and Tripp, it’s something I vowed never to do.

We won’t be like your parents.

That was Rory’s argument when I told him about my parents’ toxic marriage.

But how does he know that? He can’t predict the future and there’s no way I’m going to put myself in that position.

But getting married would keep his parents off his back, or at least from discovering our lie, and I could be on his health insurance to reduce the cost of my medication. We found out that with his insurance, my medication is thirty-eight dollars a month.Thirty-eight fucking dollars!I could stockpile it for years at that rate.

But I can’tmarryhim, can I? Getting married would be like walking into a trap I’ve spent years making sure I stay free from.

My eyes lift from the plastic-covered menu to find him stopped at a table with two young boys and their parents. He’s signing something and giving the boys high fives. His smile is genuine and unbothered as he waves goodbye. Then, he’s turning and walking toward me.

It’s annoying how sincere Rory is and how easy it is to believe him. To trust him. My guardedness usually pushes people away, but not Rory. It’s like he thrives in hostile environments. He’s like the ocean waves slamming against the rocks. No matterhow much resistance there is, he keeps showing up, eroding my defenses in a way that’s natural and unstoppable.

Rory drops into the booth across from me.

“Fans of yours?” I ask.

“Isn’t everyone?” He grins.

My lips twitch at his confident gaze. “Pretty sure of yourself for someone whose recent marriage proposal was rejected.”

“About that—” Rory starts before the waitress appears with our drinks. She sets down a Dr. Pepper for me and a chocolate milk for Rory.

“Thank you,” I say, pounding the straw against the table to remove the paper wrapper before inserting it into my soda.

“What can I get y’all to eat?” the waitress asks around the smacking sound of her gum. She reminds me of Darcy.

I order the classic cheeseburger with extra pickles while Rory orders the double bacon cheeseburger, no onion, and a basket of fries.

“Is that all?” I lift my brows, surprised he didn’t order half the menu.

“Yeah, I’m not that hungry.” He hands the waitress his menu.

My instinct is to analyze what I did wrong.

Is it because of my announcement to his parents? Or my wheezing on the beach?

I push those thoughts away. Rory’s hunger level has nothing to do with me.

When the waitress leaves, Rory stands, then slides into my side of the booth until our thighs are pressed against each other.

“Excuse me. What are you doing?” I jerk back.

“Showing you what it would be like if we were married.”

“Um, no.” I turn to scowl at him. “We wouldn’t be a same side of the booth couple.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird.”

“I like being close.” He props a muscular arm over the back of the booth behind me. “Physical touch is my love language.”

“Of course, it is.”

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