Page 420 of Hate Mates

“I’ll take the eggplant parmesan because unlike some people I order Italian food when I’m in an Italian restaurant.”

Another head bob, pretending like we’re not passive-aggressively arguing. “Very good. I’ll bring out breadsticks shortly.”

Once he departs, I remind her of her mistake. “We both have grandmothers who make authentic food from recipes passed down fromtheirgrandmothers. You think I’m really going to have spaghetti and meatballs at a chain restaurant?”

My disapproval calms her annoyance. We have a history that’s intertwined regardless of how much she wants to deny our connection.

We sit in silence even after the server drops off our salads. That’s fine. I can eat without discussion.

Until she slams her fork onto her plate. I guess we are going to talk after all. “What’s wrong, princess? Is your food not to your liking?”

“Stop calling me stupid pet names and stop acting like we’re getting married and stop ruining my life!”

“First of all, I am just trying out different terms of endearment since you seem offended by me calling you Hurricane.”

A blush blows up on her smooth cheeks and delicate throat. The memories of me fucking her in New Orleans after she took off with her friends rush back for both of us and my cock is granite in my pants – on the alert for more.

“That was a one-time mistake. It willneverhappen again.”

“Not until our wedding night anyway.”

“There won’t be a wedding night since there isn’t going to be a wedding.”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. We have this same argument over and over. I guess that’s married life.

“I was having a nice time with Lyle, and you come in here and scare him away.”

I shrug. “I could have killed him, but I was trying to be nice. You never seem to appreciate the sacrifices I make for you.”

Her small fist slams down on the table making our place settings dance. Nearby patrons swivel in our direction to gawk at the commotion. I ignore them but she still has sensibilities and is embarrassed by her outburst. She leans closer, whisper yelling at me.

“What sacrifices haveyoumade?I’mthe one being forced to marry a man I don’t love.”

At least she doesn’t say she hates me. And she agrees we’re getting married, so two wins right there. The night is looking up.

She continues. “I won’t be able to use my degree that I’ve worked so hard for. Everyone thinks all I’m good for is popping out heirs.”

Ending with a raised voice, she seems no longer worried about what the other diners hear. I guess I don’t either. I’m just as direct but without being loud. “I allowed you to go to college. I could have claimed you as soon as you turned eighteen. But I didn’t. You took your classes and had your fun, now it’s time to take on the role your father intends for you.”

Her face changes from pink to red in a millisecond. “Youallowed me to…” She shakes her head in fury. “You’re unbelievable…you son of a?”

Luckily, her tirade is cut off by the waiter setting down a steaming plate of food in front of her and then one for me. Her chest heaves while he grinds cheese on her dinner that looks like it was thawed out and heated up in a microwave. She’s oblivious to the growing pile so I tell him we’re good.

Obviously, he’s relieved and takes off as fast as he can, lugging away his oversize tray.

My food looks slightly better than hers, and I take a big bite. I chew in silence as she stabs at her eggplant, probably wishing I was on the platter instead, mumbling under her breath. That’s no fun so I poke the beast again. “Yes, and you’re welcome.”

“Do. Not. Talk. To. Me.”

Each word is punctuated by her fork jabbing the mutilated vegetable. I grin around my surprisingly edible Brussel sprout. “The silent treatment isn’t good for a marriage. We need to talk about things and work through them together.”

She pretends not to hear me and rips off a huge chunk of breadstick, stuffing the enormous piece into her mouth. Well then, I guess I’ll do the talking. “Graduation on the tenth and wedding on the seventeenth. Going to be busy for you. I wasthinking of Belize for the honeymoon. Maybe some scuba diving and rock climbing.”

After a hard swallow from her gigantic bite, she smirks at me. “You know it’s kind of pathetic to force a woman to marry you who doesn’t want to.”

“It’s also kind of pathetic to be such a baby about something that one, isn’t that terrible; and two, is your duty. We both know what we have to do in this life.”

My rational reminder stumps her, and she settles down, eating her food like a normal person rather than a hostage. As much as she despises the lottery we’ve won in life to be rich and powerful, she loves her father as well as a good fight with me.

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