I shift in my seat and clear my throat. It’s time to be strong. "I was wondering about my art tutor.”
“Art tutor?”
“I wasn’t allowed to attend college, but my parents hired an art tutor for me. I'd love to continue studying. The room with all those windows would make a perfect studio."
Something in his expression shifts. "Is that what you enjoy? Art?"
“Yes. I mean, I’d rather go to college, but that’s not possible. I’ve always enjoyed art. I've been painting since I could hold a brush." A smile tugs at my lips as memories flood back. "My mother used to scold me for getting paint all over my school uniforms."
His blue gaze holds mine, intense but not unkind. "What medium do you prefer?"
"Oils, mainly. Though I've been experimenting with watercolors." My hands move as I talk, excitement building. "There's this technique my tutor showed me where you layer transparent washes to create depth?—”
"Show me your work sometime?" His request catches me off guard, especially coming from him.
"You want to see my paintings?"
“Yes.”
Is he humoring me? Trying to be kind after being so hurtful? But of course, he’s not the only one to hurt me.
I turn my attention back out my window. “I can’t. My parents threw them out when our marriage was arranged.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “You’ll have what you need to do your art. Including a tutor.”
A warmth spreads through my chest. At least I’ll have one thing I love in my life. I grab onto it like a lifeline.
I turn back to him. "Thank you," I say, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "You have no idea what this means to me."
He nods. "You shouldn't have to give up everything you love just because you married me."
I flinch, thinking he’s talking about having had to give up his true love because he married me. Except his tone isn’t sarcastic or bitter. Plus, he clearly hasn’t given her up.
"My parents thought art was a nice hobby, but not a real pursuit. They always said once I was married, I'd have more important things to focus on."
"Like what?" The fact that he asks suggests he doesn’t see me as having any value beyond the business partnership. Why can’t he go two seconds without hurting me?
"Running a household. Having children." I shrug, aiming for casual. I don’t need him to know what a jerk he is. It’s not like it would matter. "Being the perfect society wife."
His jaw tightens at the mention of children. "You're more than just someone's wife, Hannah."
I study him, wondering if he means it. After all, my entire life, I’ve been raised to be whatever those with power over me want me to be. A day ago, that person became Ash. But he doesn’t need me. He just needs the alliance with my father.
“I’m hardly a wife,” I say, again before I think better of it.
I think he’ll shut down and turn away. Instead, he looks down, almost as if he feels bad for me. “I’m sorry I can’t be a better husband. I hurt you when I don’t mean to.”
I want to ask him why, but I know why. Meghan.
“I’ve been a selfish prick, and I’m sorry for that too.” He pauses for a moment. “How about we go to dinner? Somewhere nice. We can celebrate the house.”
Not “our” house, but “the” house. Still, it’s something.
“I am hungry.”
Ash leans forward and tells the driver where to go. It’s a place I haven’t heard of. We pull in from the back, and I’m reminded that Ash has concerns about our safety now that there’s an alliance between my family and his against the Keans.
At the back door, a man dressed in a fine tailored suit greets us. “Your table is being set up now. Come with me.”
