Page 99 of Bite Me
“I don’t have any. Not really.”
“That can’t be true. Everyone has them. Even if they’re small.”
“The only thing I’ve ever cared about is grabbing my stake in the company so I can take care of my sister and make sure she gets to graduate and then maybe go to college. I don’t have much hope she’d want to go, though.”
“What about when you were a kid? Did you dream of anything?”
“I thought I was going to be a hotshot chef in the city.”
“You changed your mind?”
“The more I do this . . . the less I care about fame. I want to go far away on a boat and be a personal chef or something, where no one knows me. I guess . . . When I was little, I did think of one thing. But my grandfather hated the idea.”
“Tell me.”
I haven’t let go of his hand, and I don’t think I ever will.
“You won’t laugh?”
“No way.”
“I had this idea that I’d run a bed and breakfast . . . And when my parents died, I . . . I had this plan to use their house, with all their old pictures, to keep their stories alive. But the house went to my brother. Well, until recently. My grandfather just gave it to me. It doesn’t matter, though. What am I going to do with it now, except visit and try to remember? I’m a little scared to go back.”
“You have to make the bed and breakfast. I can help you. I have all these ideas—Wait. Sorry, I’m making this about me.”
“No . . . Please, go on.”
“Well, first, you’d choose an aesthetic for the house, something that honors your parents’ style, but you add some of your own. You get fresh flowers from a florist every week, and then I could help you come up with a menu. I’d even let you help me with baking.”
“I love how you weaseled yourself into my dream.” He chuckles again, and it’s rich and beautiful.
“Is that sarcasm?”
“No.” Dacre rakes his fingers across my scalp. “I really do like the way you assume you’ll be there . . . like . . . you want to be.”
“I do. You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know what you see in me, Em. I’m just some guy who’s been an asshole to you.”
“You’re more than that. You’re . . . mine. My person. You’re caring and sweet.”
“I’m not sweet.”
“You can’t help but be sweet to me.”
“Very true.”
“I’ll go to sleep if you promise not to pretend this didn’t happen.”
He squeezes me tighter. “I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dacre
Emma sits up as the door to our room clicks behind me. I smile at the mess of hair on her shoulders.
“Oh, he’s back. Want to talk to him?”
