He grows silent again. Oh shit,didsomething traumatic happen?
“One time, I was stuck in the Dublin airport after my flight was delayed, and I swear all they played was every Ed Sheeran album on shuffle,” he explains after a long moment, sounding like a man who survived a battle. “I thought I was in hell. You would have loved it.”
I slap his chest. “You made it sound like you witnessed a gruesome murder while ‘Galway Girl’ played in the background.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention that I had the onset of food poisoning too,” he goes on. “I was fighting for my life, trying not to be sick all over the place, and then as I’m rushing to the toilets all I saw were those Kerrygold butter ads. They wereeverywhere.” He shudders, haunted. “Now every time I hear one of his songs, I think of butter and then immediately want to vomit.”
I really shouldn’t laugh. I do my best to fight it. But theimage of him on hands and knees in an airport bathroom with the pop star crooning ominously in the background has me near tears as I bury my head in his shoulder, my body shaking with silent laughter.
Thomas, bless him, pats my back and waits me out until I can breathe normally again. “So if I ever ask you to turn off one of his songs,” he says, “you know why.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I swipe under my eyes, cheeks aching from smiling. “Wow. Okay. Your turn. Tell me something no one else knows.”
He cuts me a look. “I just did.”
“That doesn’t count, it was an offshoot of mine.”
His lips part to protest again, but he seems to think better of it. Instead, he glances away, staring up at the ceiling for a few long seconds before his gaze lands back on me.
“Certain people already know this, but I feel like you should know too…I’ve never been in a relationship before. This is my first.”
I almost snort and call him out on the lie, but something stops me. Instead, I lift my head and squint at him, searching his expression for any hint that he’s joking. He has a good poker face, and he’s fooled me here and there before, but…he looks completely serious.
“You’re shitting me.”
He shakes his head. “I swear to God.”
“Really?” I press, sitting all the way up and letting his hand fall to my hip. “Never?Not even when you were younger?”
“I mean, I’ve dated people. But it’s never been anything that had an official title or required monogamy.”
I keep staring at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but all he does is stare back at me with a wry half smile. He’s not lying.
“I wasnotexpecting that.” I pause again, the reality of it hitting me. “I can’t believe you jumped straight into having a wife.”
“Definitely skipped a couple of steps. So if I do something wrong, just know it’s from my lack of experience.”
“You’ve been doing an excellent job so far,” I commend with a pat on his shoulder. “Much better than my ex.”
I meant the last bit as a joke, but it tastes bitter on my tongue and comes out the same way. It’s like throwing a wet blanket over our conversation, suffocating our levity, and we’re left with an awful silence as Thomas digests what I’ve said.Fuck.Why did I have to go and ruin a good thing by bringing up my ex? Who in their right mind does that while in bed with someone else?
“I have kind of a weird question for you,” Thomas hedges, distracting me from the spiral. “When we were having breakfast together before the race in Abu Dhabi, you acted like you expected me to be mad at you over the lie about how we met. Why is that?”
I blink, embarrassment making way for confusion. I didn’t expect him to remember that moment. Honestly, I barely remember it, but my gut twists at the reminder. I consider lying or denying it, but with how truthful he’s been with me so far, I owe it to him to do the same. “Because Étienne—my ex-fiancé—would have been furious.”
At least, he would have been at first. With him, there was a need for immediate drama, an exclamation ofAh putain, and then a few overly enthusiastic hand gestures before settling and sighing and grudgingly telling me it would all work out. With Thomas, I was expecting the same. That immediate frustration, that guilt trip, all before the reassurance that everything would be okay. But like him skipping straight to having a wifewithout ever having a girlfriend, Thomas went straight to reassurances.
“I guess I was bracing for that kind of reaction,” I finish.
Thomas frowns and his grip on my hip tightens a fraction. Possessive, almost. “He doesn’t seem like a very nice man.”
“He was,” I correct, but I have to add a caveat the longer I consider it. “When he wanted to be.”
“Tell me more about him?” Thomas pauses, then backtracks, shaking his head. “No, I mean…tell me more about who you were when you were with him.”
He isn’t wrong to ask about Étienne, because knowing him is important in understanding the person I became when we were together.
I take a breath. “Étienne held all the power in our relationship. It wasn’t always like that, but some men just…They take it away from you so slowly that you barely notice.”
