Page 49 of Why Not Forever?

“This is about how much you belittle your daughter. About how you can’t seem to see how talented and successful she is. I’ve been listening to it all night. If you’re not badgering her about reproducing, or who she is as a person, you’re ignoring everything she’s accomplished. She’s not just some woman. She’s yourdaughter. She’syourdaughter. And she deserves more from you than how you treat her.”

We’re all staring at him in complete shock. I’ve never seen him stand up to my father before. Maybe he does it at work, but I haven’t ever heard about it. I have to admit, it’s really sexy.

He waves over the waiter, who rushes to the table.

“Is there a problem, sir?” he asks.

“Not with the food, or the service,” Tanner assures him. “Can you please pack these up and bring them to us? I also need the bill for our meals and drinks. We’ll wait at the front.”

I roll my lips together to keep from smirking at that statement. Dad always pays for dinner. It’s a power play for him. I’ve always gone along with it, but Tanner paying for us will be a huge slap in the face.

He turns to my parents again.

“We’ll be back in two weeks, but if you can’t stop insulting Vic, we’ll leave again. Good night.”

I follow him to the front of the restaurant where we wait for the bill and our leftovers. As we wait, he rubs a hand over his face. “I’m probably going to hear about that tomorrow. If not sooner.”

I place my hand on his arm, gently pushing it away so he’ll look at me. “I appreciate it, but you probably shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t bother me what they say.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asks, pinning me with those dark brown eyes. “I don’t understand how none of it gets to you. They were after you all night. I’d seen it before we were married, too. How they can’t seem to see you for who you are.”

I sigh and shake my head. “Don’t worry about it, Tanner. It’s not really a concern.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Itisa concern.Youare my concern. Because you’re my wife.” He tilts my head up so I look him in the eye. “You’re my wife, Vic. And whether you like it or not, that means your problems are my problems.”

I’m shaken by how nice that feels, to know I don’t have to hold my problems alone. I could ask any of my friends for any help I might need. I’ve never asked. I never asked Tanner, either, and he’s simply done it, taken it upon himself to be there for me because we’re married. Even though our marriage is temporary.

What would it be like if it wasn’t?

I reach up, taking his face between my hands and guide him down to me. I kiss him softly and his fingers flex on my chin as though he wants to hold me in place. He doesn’t and I step back.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

We’re still holding each other, standing so close together, and I can see the way his eyes search mine, then drop to my lips. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me next. Then the waiter arrives with our food and the bill.

Tanner pays and we take our leftovers, heading outside where an Uber is already waiting for us, Tanner having ordered it as soon as we walked away from the table. As we drive, the kiss is definitely on my mind, but so is something else that has been bugging me since before his dramatic end to the dinner. Once we’re home and we’ve taken off our shoes and Tanner brings our leftovers to the kitchen, presumably to heat them so we can finish eating, I decide to bring it up.

“Tanner?” I say, sitting on a chair at the pass through. “You didn’t have to lie.”

“I don’t…” he begins, his brows drawn down in confusion.

“To my mom. About not wanting kids. We didn’t talk about it before the wedding, but that’s because I didn’t think it would matter. We’re not going to be together that long, so our opinions on kids aren’t really relevant, right?”

He stares at me for a long time before he says, “I didn’t lie.”

“You didn’t?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want kids. So much so, I got a vasectomy about four years ago.”

Yet again, I’m in shock. “A vasectomy?”

He smiles and I know he’s laughing at my expression.

“So you can’t…”

“Well. The doctor said there’s a 0.005 per cent chance it could fail, but I don’t mind those odds.” He shrugs. “I figure, with odds that low, if I get a woman pregnant, it was meant to be. You want yours heated up? Or in the fridge for tomorrow?”

“Um. Heated. Let’s finish eating.” I watch him as he puts the food onto plates and heats everything up again, starting with mine.

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