Page 44 of Tell Me You Love Me

ALANA

“Why didn’t you give him your married last name when he was born?”

Goddddddd. Straight to the friggin’ crux of things.

Tommy looks out at the lake, like I need the added context to know he means Franky.

“You were married by the time he came along, right? So why is he a Page?”

“I didn’t change my name when I got married.” I spin my ring using my thumb. It’s an old habit, a nervous tic that gives me something to do when I can’t sit still. “I knew I wanted to be a writer, and I didn’t want to use another man’s name on the front of my books.”

True. Ish.

“And Colin never insisted on having his son take his name? Even with relationships falling apart and divorce rates skyrocketing, it’s not like his kid stops being his just because the wife leaves.”

I stare out at my son perched atop Chris’ muscular shoulders, pounding his chest and screeching his laughter because that’s the sound he makes when he’s being silly.

“Colin didn’t insist.”Truth.“And I didn’t want a different name than my child. It wasn’t a big deal to Colin, so this is where we landed.”

“And now?” He matches my pose, setting his hands behind his body and stretching long, powerful legs alongside mine. “Divorce is coming, andyou’ve already left the city. He’s the one with the different name. Is he not worried about losing his child?”

“He’s not worried.” I flick my toes. My fingers. I spin my ring and chew on my lip. And still, I need more movement. I need to escape. “Colin is welcome to call anytime he likes. Hourly, even, if he wanted to. They video chat most days and play chess.” A smile spreads across my lips long before my brain processes the pleasure rippling through my blood. “Theyloveto play chess together.”

“He good at it? Franky,” he clarifies. “I don’t give a fuck about Colin.”

His words are harsh, but his eyes are kind. Amused, even. So I nod. “He’sreallygood. He’s extremely tactical and logical in the moves he makes. Unlike me. When I play, I’m relying on hopes and dreams and a splash of good luck.”

“Like playing Chris when we were younger.” He shifts his weight, accidentally brushing my hand with the side of his. But when my eyes flare wide, he moves again. “He whooped our asses before the game even began, manipulating us into making moves and cornering us in record time. He was always good at that.”

“Everything I knew about chess, I learned from your brother,” I admit with a smile. “Everything I know about it now, I learned from my own child. He’s a patient teacher, even if it means teaching me how to beat him.”

“Some people are just like that, I guess.” His eyes, perfect dark green, flash in the summer sun. “Not me. I’d rather win.”

Yeah. That’s not a secret. I already knew.

“So you wrote a book?” He casts his eyes back out to the trio in the lake. “What’s it about?”

“Small town living.”True.“Soul searching.”Also true.I nibble on the inside of my cheek and lean forward to hug my legs. “It’s just… it’s nothing, really. An idea I got a while back while I was home with my baby. My brain needed something besides diapers and sleep schedules, so I started typing and, eventually, landed atthe end.”

“Sure, but what’s it about?” He leans forward, too. Maybe he mirrors my poses on purpose, or his movement is purely coincidental. But my stomach dips when he drags his knees up and wraps his arms around his legs. “Who is your main protagonist?”

No.

I shake my head, long before I even think to verbalize my thoughts.

“I don’t want to answer those questions.”

“Oh…” Surprised, his brows pinch in my peripherals. “Okay. Didn’t realizethatwould be a boundary. Is it a love story? An adventure? A tragedy, maybe?”

All three. Sadly. And don’t forget the villain.

“I don’t want to talk about my book at all.” The crunch of heavy wheels on dirt draws my eyes around until my next heart attack looms. Oliver pulls up beside Tommy’s truck, staring back at me with his mouth wide open and eyes as large as saucers. He’s not quite mastered the skill of a poker face. “You still play cards against him?”

Curious, Tommy peeks over his shoulder. “Yep. He still sucks, too, ‘cos his tell isn’t even a tell. It’s a whole fuckin’ billboard.”

That’s what I figured.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, pushing to his feet and pressing his hand to my shoulder. He can’tknowthoughts of escape pass through my mind. But it doesn’t take a genius to guess. “He’s just confused, is all. I’ll go talk to him for a sec, so he knows we’re all getting along. Then I’m coming back. I’m not done talking.”

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