Page 11 of Paper Roses

“It’s not bad at all,” I lie, quickly smiling at Moira as she sets plates of food in front of us.

I glance at Jed and see he’s directing a narrow-eyed gaze at me. I groan silently, but he doesn’t question me again. Instead, he eats and tells me a funny story about the wedding today.

We laugh through that and another story involving Rafferty, Joe, and an ice cream van. It’s only when he sets his knife and fork down that I notice my plate is empty. I glance at Jed, and a funny expression crosses his face before he smiles and summons the waitress to take our plates.

“Now you’ve eaten, we can talk,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

He raises one eyebrow. “Your appetite is always affected by nerves, and you needed to eat. You’re too pale lately. I’ll order us both another drink, and then you can tell me what’s happening to worry you.” He winks as he gestures to the waitress again. “I can wait a long while, and I have nowhere to be.”

He orders an amaretto for me, and I hold back another sigh. How can I get over him when he does such sweet things? Nobody else in my life would worry that I was pale, order me my favourite drink, or keep me occupied enough to enjoy a meal when my stomach is twisting itself in knots.

I take a sip of my liqueur, the sweet, nutty flavour warming my throat as I swallow.

“Okay,” he says. “Get on with it. You’re getting married.” He pauses, his brow wrinkling. “No, youhaveto get married. What is going on?”

I shrug. “Well, I have to find a candidate for the marriage first.”

“What?”

I lick my lips nervously. “I should probably start with the fact that my stepmother died three months ago.”

“You didn’t say. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, that’s nice, but she probably wouldn’t thank you for the sentiment. She mistrusted emotion and didn’t like people.Especially me.” I smooth a crease from the tablecloth and then make myself look at him. His face is set in its usual inscrutable mask, but his eyes are busy.

“So, you didn’t get along?”

“No, not at all. She married my father when I was five, but I’m not sure why she chose a widower with a child. She disliked children very much.”

My stepsister Daisy would say Laura married my father for the money, but I don’t want to think that. In spite of everything that’s happened, I want my father to have been happy and loved.

“So, you had no relationship?”

“No. I left home when I was sixteen.”

His gaze sharpens. “Left or were pushed?”

“Maybe a little bit of both? But I’m sure they wanted their privacy. Doesn’t every parent want their teenagers to leave home?”

“No, they don’t,” he says simply. He pauses, his eyes soft. “I’m sorry.”

The sentiment is short but sweet, and it catches at the back of my throat and makes my eyes hot. “No need to be sorry,” I say. I grimace. “I’m telling this very badly.”

“You’re doing perfectly. I only wish I had my notebook and a light to shine in your eyes to get you to confess all.”

“Don’t forget your truncheon,” I say without thinking.

There’s a stunned silence. My face turns red, but Jed breaks into laughter that’s so loud and merry that several people turn towards us, a few faces smiling at the contagious sound. Moira gives him an astonished look before narrowing her eyes at me.

I turn my focus to Jed.

“Sorry,” he says, wiping his eyes. A soft snort escapes him. “One mustneverunderestimate the power of a good truncheon,” he says soberly.

I groan. “Oh, stop it.”

He chuckles again. After a moment, he prompts, “So, your stepmother died?”

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