Page 64 of Faking Forever
“Looks amazing,” she said, even though her appetite had fled completely.
Smith made a sound of assent and lifted his knife and fork. They ate silently, the joy gone from the experience and the morning for Kenny. All she wanted right now was for this to be over.
The croque monsieur was delicious, the best she’d ever tasted. A shame Kenny was unable to appreciate it.
She managed less than half before pushing the plate aside.
Smith frowned at the gesture and pointed at her plate with his fork.
“Eat.”
“I’m full.”
“You barely touched that.”
“Why did you sit down with me?” she asked and he swallowed the bite in his mouth, washing it down with a sip ofcoffee before resting his elbows on the table and folding one fist over the other.
“Because it would have been petty to pretend I didn’t see you.”
“And yet, we both would probably have enjoyed our breakfast more,” she retorted.
His shoulders shifted and he made a gruff sound that could’ve been denial or assent.
“I’m tired,” she told him and his eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you? We keep having the same frustrating conversation. It just goes nowhere. In fact, I’m not even surewhywe’re even talking about this all again when you’ve pretty much slammed the door on our marriage. There’s no point.”
“I’veslammed the door?”
“I followed you Riversend to talk. You didn’t want to talk. You’d rather continue blaming me for everything that went wrong in our marriage. Repeatedly. I get the point. We’re done. Over. I surrender.
“Now I’d like to take some time to rest and recuperate before heading back. I was minding my own business, sitting here waiting for my breakfast. I didn’t ask for you to plant your arse at my table only to rehash more of the same shit again.” She held up both hands, palms up. “Can we juststop? Please? I’m soexhausted.”
He watched her, conflicting emotions parading across his face—confusion, concern, anger, resentment, sympathy, to name a few—before he ruthlessly shuttered them. Nothing but a blank mask was left in their place.
He nodded rigidly and picked up his knife and fork again. He took another couple of bites and then sighed.
“You’re right,” he conceded, his voice burdened by regret and hopelessness. “I’ve allowed my feelings to cloud our interactions.”
“What feelings? You’re contradicting yourself, Smith. Youcan’t claim to feel nothing for me, then turn around and blame your emotions for your behavior.”
“I’m bound to have feelings about our broken marriage, Kenna, even if I have none for you.”
She winced and saw a flicker of regret in his eyes.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” he asked, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re right, this is…exhausting.”
The admission surprised her and some of the wind left her sails.
“Why don’t you talk me through those feelings you mentioned earlier? Help me understand. Please?”
He rubbed a tired hand over his face.
“I don’t like failing.”
“Neither do I.”
“Yes, everybody knows what a perfectionist you are, Kenna.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.” She should shut up. Let him speak. She’d asked him to talk. It would behoove her to listen.
