Page 70 of Iron

“He made me worse for a long time,” I add, quieter now. “Careful, guarded. All the things you probably saw the first time we met. And I've been trying, since being with you, to be better than that. Better for you. Be the man you can love and address your fears. I will not undo that progress standing in a ballroom, giving him the satisfaction of a scene.”

TJ's quiet for a bit, looking at me like he's recalculating something.

“You've been trying to be better,” he repeats.

“Every day. Still am. That caveman streak. Working on it.”

“For me.”

“And for me. But yeah. For you.” I tuck a piece of hair back off his forehead, an excuse to touch him more than anything practical. “So let's leave him where he belongs, which is nowhere near either of us tonight.”

TJ exhales, some of the tension finally draining out of him for real this time. He glances once more toward Marius, and I watch him decide, watch him choose to let it go instead of chase the fight.

“Fine,” he says. “But if he comes over here…”

“He won't.”

“If he does…”

“Then I'll handle it. Not you.” I say it gently, but I mean it all the way down. “You don't need to fight my old battles, TJ. You've got enough of your own this year.”

He tips his head, considering that, considering me, and something in his expression softens all the way.

“He made you afraid of being emotionally available. Matt made me afraid of letting someone in, physically. You have respected my issues. I’ll let this go,” he says finally. “For tonight. But I'm watching him.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less.”

41

TJ

Dinner comes out exactly the way gala dinners always come out: prime rib cooked a little past where anyone actually wanted it, a baked potato drowning in enough sour cream to qualify as its own course. Gavin takes one look at his plate and starts scraping the sour cream off with the side of his fork, methodical about it, like he's separating out a threat.

“You're really going to do that here,” I say. “In public. At a black-tie event.”

“I don't eat sour cream.”

“I know you don't eat sour cream. I've watched you not eat sour cream for two months now. I just didn't know you'd do surgery on a potato to avoid it.”

“It's not surgery. It's maintenance.”

“It's a whole procedure, Gavin. You've got a system.”

He glances at me, fork paused mid-scrape, something almost smug in it. “You like the results of the maintenance well enough.”

“I didn't say anything about not liking it.”

“You didn't have to.”

I feel my face go warm and take a very deliberate interest in my own potato instead of answering that, which only makes him look more pleased with himself.

That's when I spot Marius again, further across the room now, a woman on his arm this time. Blond, curvy. Trying very, very hard.

“That's his wife?” I ask, low, leaning toward Gavin so it doesn't carry.

“That's Jessica.”

“He chose that over you?”