Page 79 of Whiskey Kisses

“Of course, I do,” she says. “We’re on the same page.”

“I don’t know. Sounds like you’re trying to leave the back door open so you can run if things get too real.”

“Maybe I’m leaving the back door open for you, dummy,” she shoots back. “You have a hero complex, you know, always putting everybody else first. I’m just saying you don’t have to do that with me.”

“First of all, that’s not true,” I say with a dry laugh. “I’m selfish as fuck unless it’s my family. Them, I put first.” I nod my chin toward her. “Second, you’re family.”

She gives a slow, thoughtful nod, but other than that her face is inscrutable. “I just don’t want you to ever feel trapped.”

“Why would I feel trapped?”

“You married me because it was the right thing to do,” she says evenly. “And you’ve been really good to me, Tristan. When the time comes, I want you to do the right thingfor you, even if that means dissolving our marriage. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

After everything that’s happened between us, she still believes that our marriage is one of convenience. And can I blame her? It’s not like I’ve said or done anything to make her feel any differently. Evie’s strong, but she’s got a delicate heart that’s been bruised by people who’ve made her feel like she wasn’t enough. I don’t want to be one of those people. “Well, maybe you should hold it against me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should expect more.”

“Fine, but it still stands that I don’t want you staying with me out of obligation,” she says, her voice rising an octave. “I’d rather be alone!”

“Obligation? You said we’re on the same page, but I don’t think we are. This isn’t about the distillery anymore, Evie, or saving you from your crazy ex.” I rest my hand on her hip. “It’s about you and me, so let’s stop analyzing the fuck out of this relationship and see where it goes.”

That shuts her up. She watches me for a long time, seeming to digest my words. “You mean that?”

“Yup.”

“Why?” Her whiskey-colored eyes flicker up to mine, and shereaches up to trace her fingers over the contours of my face. Sometimes her gentleness wrecks me. “What changed?”

“I like being your husband.” I drag my hand up, rucking her shirt with it until I can see a hint of the juncture between her thighs. “More than I should.”

And there it is. My admission hangs heavily between us, the taut silence that follows even heavier. Revealing how I really feel means I’ve laid myself bare for Evie, something I vowed not to do after the implosion of my last real relationship. But she lays herself bare for me, too, doesn’t she?

I stroke her thigh, keeping it PG.

“Alright,” Evie agrees after a while. “Let's see where this goes.”

22.Tristan

“Evie?” My mother repeats after a pause so long I was worried that our video call’s connection was bad. “Youmarriedlittle Evie Doyle?Really?”

“I mean, she’s not so little anymore but yeah,” I say slowly, bracing for impact.

Her face shifts from confusion to concern before settling on something like wonder. “When?”

“About a month ago.”

“And you’re only now telling me?” She shakes her head. “Why?”

“Because I thought you’d kill me for eloping,” I say, which is partly true.

“Tempting, but I’ll let that go,” she quips. “You are, after all, the most impulsive of my children.”

“You’re not angry?” I run my hands anxiously through my hair. “I thought you’d be pissed at me for sure.”

“No, not really.” She takes a sip of coffee, brows furrowed thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m relieved. I was starting to worry that you’d never settle down.”

Not the response I was expecting, but better than the alternatives. “I’m twenty-six!”

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