A giggle escaped before I turned to grin at him. “Hungry are we?” I watched his body relax, a sheepish grin forming. It was new, and I couldn’t help but think how cute he looked.
“Maybe just a little.”
The elevator pinged, signaling we had reached my floor. I stepped off and extended my hand to him. “Come.”
He stared at me like he was contemplating what I meant. “Lila, I…”
“Have dinner with me. Come.”
“You don’t have to cook for me,” he said.
“Well, I have to do it for me, and it’s usually enough to feed four. So, come.” I beckoned him with my hand.
After a moment of deliberation and great reluctance, along with an argument from his stomach, he took my hand. He stared at me with his brow knitted together while we walked down the hall to my condo. I didn’t know what was going through his mind, but from the outside it looked as if he was guarding himself from my sexual assault. The thought made me laugh as it was he who attacked me in the most spectacular way against a wall in our office. And he was frightened of little me?
“So, how long have you lived in Indianapolis?” I asked while I moved to the bedroom and changed into something more comfortable. We knew few details about one another, and I was going to get to the bottom of Nathan Thorne.
“My whole life, with the exception of college. What about you?” he asked.
He removed his tie and I licked my lips in memory of how he’d used it earlier. He also rid himself of his suit jacket and unbuttoned his dress shirt.
“Indiana native, born and bred,” I admitted. “I moved to Indy just before college and stayed. No reason to return anyway. Not much demand for lawyers in the middle of nowhere.”
He sounded surprised by my admission. “You didn’t go out of state for law school?”
I moved past him and walked to the kitchen.
I sighed and shook my head. “No. Too much to pay out of state tuition. I’ll be paying off my school debts for another few years as it is. Even with my grants.”
He smirked before admitting his parents had paid for college, including his stint at Harvard Law. I stared at him as he spoke of the East Coast school and his time there. He was smiling as he recounted his first year at the elite establishment.
I had always known he was more than just a transactional attorney. You didn’t go to Harvard Law for such a technical position. Another piece.
I admired his smile before commenting, “You know, that mask of yours is slipping a lot lately.”
He shrugged his shoulders, his smile faltering. “There’s no point in the pretense around you.”
My heart fluttered in my chest. “But I still don’t know your secrets,” I pointed out as I opened the fridge door, and dipped down to find some vegetables for a salad.
“No, but you know there are secrets. That’s much more than anyone else. It’s nice not to have to always pretend everything’s perfect.”
I, better than anyone, knew what he meant. Even his voice had lost its pretense and was low with little inflection.
“So, why pretend then?”
“It makes things easier.” He rubbed the back of his neck. It seemed a nervous gesture to me; he didn’t like the subject matter. “It didn’t take long to learn that after… People don’t really want to know that your knee and wrist ache every day, your body hurts in ways you can’t describe, that you’re plagued by migraines and nightmares, or your depression and anxiety continue years later.”
I stood staring at him after his impromptu confession. He hadn’t given much detail, but at least I knew why. It was easier than the truth by far. It kept looks of pity at bay. It kept the memories away.
“What about you?” he asked.
I pulled away from the open door, bringing with me a variety of vegetables and a can of pasta sauce. Pasta was quick, which was good due to how late it was, according to the wall clock.
“What about me?”
He quirked an eyebrow at me. “You really want to play that game? Do you want me to say it?”
“No.”