Page 180 of Ewan

The way he always drives me to the edge yet never makes me doubt him.

What a phenomenal concept.

His eyes stay on the water while I study his face, trying to see beyond the man with broad shoulders and a body made of iron.

“What is your story, Ewan?” I ask quietly, and his lips move into a pensive smile before he brings his stare to me.

He seems to weigh his answer, although no words come to his lips.

“There must be a reason for all this…” I say quietly. “This is more than sex for us. Prove me wrong.”

A tender look slides over his face while he drinks me in.

I continue.

“You brought me to your brother’s place. The restaurant owner knows you. There must be more to the story. This…” I gesture around. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. For a moment, I considered that you were doing all of this for me because you wanted to have a nice memory of me before all was over. I was cynical in my thinking because I met a few very cynical assholes in my life. But now I think less and less that it’sa possible explanation for all of this. So, please don’t mind me asking you that. I’d love to know more.”

His smile deepens.

“Are you sure?” he says.

“I don’t have a choice.”

His grin fades.

“I don’t think I can tell you…yet,” he says, and I look at him, taken aback.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he goes on.

“It must or you wouldn’t have said that.”

He sighs and looks away again, and I get this feeling that he doesn’t have much to lose. So whatever it is, I have no leverage over him.

He’s made up his mind.

“Tell me more about yourself,” he says in a monotone voice, his focus on the seagulls hovering over the water.

“You know most of it,” I say, not feeling generous enough to share more than I already have.

He flicks his eyes to me.

“Tell me, Scarlett.”

His voice is demanding this time, so reluctantly, I give him more information. It’s nothing exciting or stuff that I should keep secret.

It’s just that it bores me to tears to talk about it. I can’t imagine he is entertained by this. But he listens attentively while I talk about my childhood. Growing up with a mother who has always been stressed out.

And marrying because I wanted to start a family.

I cringe as I go over this with him, but no reaction shows on his face.

It wasn’t only that I wanted to start a family. I thought it would be nice to share my life with someone, do things together, and grow old without growing apart.

Was I misled by all this?

Marriage was nothing I had imagined, and I blamed myself for not reading more and learning about it before committing myself to a life of drudgery.

What else was there to do?

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