I stab a slice of beet with my fork and pop it into my mouth. It’s not too fresh, but it still tastes alright.
“You should know this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” he admits as he catches a piece of chicken on the end of his fork. He surveys the small piece before it passes his lips and he grinds it between his perfect teeth. “Do you always eat like this?”
I shrug, not wanting to mention the fact that a month ago, fresh warm meals were the norm for me. “I guess.”
“It’s so much easier, isn’t it?”
I guess it is. I’ve never really seen it like that.
“You don’t have to wait for food or pay ridiculous amounts for it.” He bites down on another piece of chicken. “And to be honest, it tastes a hell of a lot better than the food they serve in those places.”
My lips curl as I watch him enjoy living the simple life. He’s always out and about or in the hotel so easy meals must be something he seldom has. I’m glad he’s enjoying it—or at least pretending to so he doesn’t hurt my feelings.
“So, Alix, I know you don’t have a boyfriend, but do you have family?”
I hand him my container and we switch.
“Who says I don’t have a boyfriend?” I ask, sounding a hell of a lot more defensive than I intended to.
Jesse’s face drains its color and it’s hard not to smile at it, or the piece of beet and feta he holds on his fork in front of his open mouth.
I laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Color floods back into his face. “You are a horrible human being.” He eats his beet and cheese. “Family?”
Ugh. This is a subject I don’t want to delve into. It always works me up. “I have them. I don’t need them, but I have them.”
His beautiful brown eyes thin like he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind it. “You don’t need them?”
I stab a piece of chicken and avoid his intense gaze. “Nope.”
My relationship with my family hasn’t always been the easiest. I ditched them the second I legally could and I only go back when they insist I absolutely have to—which also happens to be around the exact same time that they want to celebrate my younger sister for doing something amazing like getting her PhD in Literature.
“I’m sensing a little resentment.” He pries, shifting on the recliner.
“And I’m sensing you have trouble minding your own business.”
His brows pull together. “Don’t get snarky with me. You’re the one who wants to be intimate with each other when the lunches and dinners are over. Knowing a bit more about you will make it a hell of a lot more comfortable for me.”
I knew it. I knew sex was a connection thing with him. I sigh. “Fine. I have a Mom, Dad and a younger sister.” I slip another piece of chicken into my mouth and hand him the container. We switch. “I haven’t visited them in over eleven months and, if I’m being honest, it hasn’t been long enough for my liking. My little sister, Grace, is the pride and joy of my family. She’s perfect in every way. She’s well traveled, she went to college, she’s been valedictorian twice and she received a PhD in Literature eleven months ago. It doesn’t help that both my parents are respected surgeons. I, on the other hand, am a high school dropout who never went to college. I’ve never left the state. I drink too much, spend too much time with my head in the clouds and I never married the one guy my parents approved of.” The last point is bitter on my tongue. “I loved Scott. I really did, but what he wanted and what my parents wanted wasn’t what I wanted.”
The appetite I worked up climbing the stairs has rapidly diminished so I sit my container on my lap. I don’t look at Jesse. He probably thinks I’m crazy harboring a grudge over my family because my sister is the successful one, but I feel like it’s much deeper than that. Parents are supposed to love and nurture all of their children. They’re supposed to support their children no matter what… but mine didn’t and I’m not okay with that. I never will be.
“Alix the brave.” Jesse states.
I look to him and the sincere smile that curls his lips.
“I think it’s very brave of you not to be what your parents want you to be. That’s why you’re so full of life and passion. If you did what they wanted, you’d be like me... tired, passionless and unsatisfied with life.”
I angle my body in his direction. “You’re not happy?”
How can someone like him not be happy? He has everything anyone could ever want.
“I’m happy.” He says. “I’d just be happier doing what I enjoy doing.”