Page 10 of The Marriage Deal
Levi had wandered to the kitchen, dropping his bag on a couch as he passed by. "Do you want some tea?"
I chuckled to myself. Levi, a very American man, had some British tendencies. One of them, his love for tea. He rarely drank coffee in the morning and always ordered tea. "Don't tell me you have Earl Grey in there."
He was in the process of taking out teacups. He paused and turned to face me. I was already making my way to the kitchen. "Is that what you want?"
I shook my head. "No. Just regular tea."
"I can make it. I have at least twelve different types."
"Why am I not surprised."
Color returned to his cheeks. It was not normal to see him like this. In his environment. And while he still had his suit on, he looked stripped down. As though he had removed the invisible cloak of professionalism he usually wears. He was fluid. Not as stiff as he usually is at work. He whipped up two cups of tea, one with lemon and the other without, and he handed me the lemon tea. I took a sip. The lemon and sugar were just right.
"How did you know I would like it with lemon?"
He shrugged. "That's what you usually drink."
"And the sugar?"
"Pure guess. Is something wrong?"
"No. It's just that…" It's just that I never thought you saw me enough to care what my drink order is. It meant nothing, of course. We've worked together for two years, and this was just a coincidence I was taking too seriously. It must be the alcohol. "Nothing." I took another sip of the hot drink. "Thanks for letting me stay here."
He lifted his cup to his lips. "I don't mind the company."
We went to sit down in the living room, and that's when I noticed that there was no TV. Maybe he had a den with a gaming console, and gadgets, and stuff.
"What is it?" He said in a low, rumbling voice that knotted my insides. What was with me today? Levi was having an effect on me that he's never had before.
"You don't have a TV in here," I said.
He glanced around. "Oh yeah. Not a fan."
"Really?"
"I can get news on my phone. I'm not a sports fan, and I don't like movies or serials."
I rolled my eyes.Serials? No wonder he didn't watch TV. Who calls TV shows serials?I got up and strolled over to his bookshelf. "So, what do you do when you come home?"
He leaned back in his chair and put one leg over the other thigh. "I read."
Of course you do. I turned to the bookshelf, lazily reading the titles as I sipped my tea. Most were history textbooks, the majority on medieval history. Some fiction, also based on medieval history. I know it was his expertise, but he was obsessed with it. There were several copies of his first historical fiction book,White v Red, a fictional account of the War of the Roses.The one that made his name in the History world for not only its accuracy but also entertaining enough that it became an international bestselling sensation. Next to those were several more copies of his other bestseller. The non-fictional account of Margaret Beaufort's life.
"Why the War of the Roses?" I asked absentmindedly.
He blanched. "You don't like it?"
"I do, but it's well-trodden ground. There are so many books about that war."
"I thought it would be a good idea to tell the story from the point of view that is usually neglected — the peasants."
"The mother of a king started as a peasant? One learns something new every day." I said sardonically, putting my cup on the shelf, picking one copy, and holding the book in my hand.
"Oh, I thought you meant the fiction book. Don't you find her interesting? A woman who was underestimated in a patriarchal society. Played her cards right where others failed and made her son King of England, and started a dynasty. Short-lived as it was."
"I don't know. I'd say one hundred plus years is a good run. Did not like your book though."
“Really?”
