Page 70 of Ruthless Creatures
So why couldn’t he?
“You’d have a whole other life I know nothing about.”
“Yes. That’s the point. That’s the only way to keep you safe.”
“But… how do I know you don’t have other women?”
“Because I’m giving you my word that I don’t. And I won’t. I never will. If you tell me you’re mine, you’ll be the only woman for me. Forever.”
He’s so serious, staring at me so hard with this unblinking intensity, saying all these words like they’re nothing at all. Making all these crazy promises like he actually means it.
Because he does actually mean it.
David was never like this.
It’s a terrible time to think of him, but a memory pops into my mind of the day David and I went engagement ring shopping.
I knew he was going to propose. There were never any surprises with him. Every move he made was methodical, planned far in advance, plotted out precisely on an Excel spreadsheet. He never took unnecessary risks. He never made rash decisions. He never allowed himself to be carried away with his emotions, even when we made love.
That was planned in advance, too.
Even the sex wasn’t spontaneous.
There was a reserve inside of him, one I couldn’t reach. An untouchable place I bumped up against at unexpected moments, like the Christmas morning I asked him what his favorite memory was from his childhood and his face went blank.
He never did answer the question. He simply changed the subject.
I never brought it up again.
Now, standing here in Kage’s arms with all the need and devotion shining so plainly in his eyes, I realize David and I might not have been as good a match as I thought we were.
I once pledged my life to a man who gave me a budget for an engagement ring. A very small budget. Then disapproved of each one I chose, until finally he suggested it would really make more sense to put the money toward the ailing carburetor that needed replacing in my car.
I pledged my life to a man who folded his dirty laundry before putting it in the hamper.
To a man who made love with his socks on because his feet were always cold.
To a man who always looked away just before I kissed him.
“Kage?”
“Yes?”
“Do you fold your dirty clothes before you put them in the hamper?”
He pulls his brows together. “Of course not. Who the fuck would do that?”
“Are your feet always cold?”
“No. I run a few degrees hot. What are you talking about?”
I already know he doesn’t look away before he kisses me. He looks deep into my eyes, like he doesn’t ever want to look away.
Like he doesn’t want to miss a thing.
“I’m talking about making a stupid decision. One last question.”
“What is it?”
