Page 77 of Game of Love
That made her more annoyed and her cheeks flushed. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to call her my girl even though Jack was so far away and wasn’t looking in our direction.
“Xander Cage, you are working my last nerve.” She pouted.
“Claire, believe me when I say this… he knows we’re together,” I said pointedly and her eyes widened even more.
“You told him? I was going to tell him,” she winced.
That was what she said three summers ago. She was supposed to be breaking the news to her father that we were seeing each other. As if the man was blind or stupid and hadn’t figured it out.
“I didn’t tell him anything. He’s not stupid Claire.”
“I wanted to tell him myself.”
I’d known this girl since I was sixteen. We were both twenty six years old, months apart in age. We’d been seeing each other in secret since we were eighteen, although she would put it down to three years ago when we started sleeping together.
Her father was the most insightful man I’d ever met and didn’t become a legend by not paying attention. I figured he’d known for years and kept quiet.
“Then tell him,” I challenged.
She folded her arms under her breasts and I gazed at her taking in the full vision of her. She was in girl mode today. That was what she called it.
All the days when she chose to be girly, curled her long brown velvet hair, and wore either a skirt or tight jeans to make me crazy.
We’d come home to Idaho last week for Thanksgiving and were set to go back on duty next week.
I’d always marveled at how happy she seemed here at her father’s place.
Home for us.
Home for me.
We were both happy but there were big decisions to be made that would affect us both.
“I’m going to,” she nodded.
“So, you’ll tell him we’re together then? As in this century? While we’re still alive and young?”
A serious expression washed over her pretty face. “I plan to, but…”
“But what?” I was real interested in her excuse now. Last time it was because she couldn’t find the right time. “You know if you aren’t careful, I’ll think you want to keep me a secret. Like maybe you’re not serious about me. Like maybe you’re hoping I’ll end it with you so you don’t have to end it with me.”
I knew that wasn’t true. There was something though that was making her hold off on telling him and it wasn’t nerves. It was something she wasn’t saying.
“Why would you say that?” she snapped.
“It’s like the time when you signed us up for that damn pie eating contest and wouldn’t cave until I did. Then you got sick. Or, like the time when you signed us up for piano lessons and you decided you hated it but wanted me to give up first so you could use me as an excuse.”
“I didn’t do that. We both hated piano.”
“Yes, and what about the floral arrangement club?”
All those teenage years she couldn’t admit that she liked me. She kept enlisting me into stuff to keep tabs on me. Then she’d be weird when I would follow her or do something I thought she’d like. She was the strangest girl ever and I was so in love with her I’d do anything. Like the floral arrangement club.
“This is different. I just… want to be sure you’re serious. You could change your mind. Then what would I do. And… maybe I won’t see you around as much.”
Oh… I see now. This was about the decision too. But there was more to it than that. That decision we needed to make only came about recently.
“What do you mean?” I wanted to drag it out of her. “That little problem of ours wasn’t around at Christmas or all the other times you were supposed to tell him.”
