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Smith watches me relax, his approval clear. Even before he slides his hands over my back and murmurs, “Good girl. Always so brave for me. And so fucking beautiful.”
He bends as he roughs out the last few words, scent-marking my forehead with his. When I can’t quite strangle the whine that ekes out of me, he hums and pulls me closer, gliding backward through the water and landing on the bench seat with me in his lap.
“This okay?” he asks, reaching for my plate. “I want to feed you.”
Every coherent thought flies out of my head. “Y-yes? If you want.”
His smile is no less handsome up close. A sexy quirk of his lips that’s somehow wry and genuine. And—oh Lord—is there a tiny dimple in his left cheek when he smirks like this?
I’ve never been close enough to notice before. Now, sitting across the spread of his muscled thighs, it’s impossible to look away.
He angles us perfectly, bringing bites of tortellini right to my mouth. The creamy mushroom sauce he ordered is incredible. I hum happily, and he chuckles.
“Right? I love this place. We don’t have one in town, though. You have to drive out here to get it.”
I swallow and let myself cuddle a little bit closer to him. “Maybe we can bring the guys next time? All of us could have a family dinner there.”
Easy affection curves his mouth. “You and your family dinners.”
I try not to let tension creep into my posture, recalling all the times I made a big meal only to leave his plate untouched. But Smith is watching me now. He sees the way I freeze up and makes a low noise of apology, nuzzling my cheek again.
“I’m sorry, petal.”
No qualifiers or explanations, just honest remorse. “So sorry,” he repeats. “Let’s choose a night every week, and I swear I’ll be there. In fact, I’ll come home early and help you cook.”
My belly quivers with nerves. I know he’s trying to show me that what I want matters to him, but part of me still feels like I should explain why I’m like this.
I accept the next bite of food from his fork, chewing before I sigh and whisper, “I’ve never had a family dinner before.”
He goes still, leaving the utensil on my plate and staring at me for an eternity. The gears in his mind grind as he processes my mortifying confession. When he finally understands, his arms lock around me in a hug to rival his brother’s crushing embraces.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes. “I’m such an asshole. Remi. Angel. Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—never? Not one time?”
I go back through all the foster homes I went to. There were meals at family tables, usually served in an assembly-line fashion. Grease-stained bags of fast food. Lots of soggy french fries. But never a time when I felt like I was gathered at a table with my family.
“No,” I confirm. “Not one time.”
Smith exhales hard, ruffling my hair. His voice sounds hoarse. “I’ll never miss another one. Petal, I swear. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
I do forgive him, as much as I can. The hurt is still there, aching like a bruise on my heart. But when he buries his face into my shoulder and scent-marks my throat, I feel the pain start to evaporate.
A rolling rumble revs in his chest. His purr is just as perfect as I remember—smooth and soothing, all the way down to my soul.
“Come here, angel,” he husks, gently turning me so I’m sprawling on his lap, my back pressed to his chest, and my head resting on the broad ledge of his shoulder. His forearm hooks around my waist, comforting in the weightlessness of the water.
He keeps feeding me bites of delicious food, brushing his lips over my temple every few moments. The periwinkle sky fades to violet before he musters his will and speaks again.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Sometimes, I wonder if you’d still want me for your alpha if you knew all of them.”
It’s another piece of him. One that hits me right in the gut. “You could tell me,” I whisper. “And then you’ll know.”
His arm cinches tighter. “It’s a long list, little petal.”
Finished with my dinner, I turn and mark his neck with a kiss. “Okay, what’s the worst thing?”
A shaking breath escapes him. He hangs his head forward, pressing our foreheads back together. “I failed Cassian. That has to be the worst thing.”
I reel back, my face crumpling. “What? How? You’ve done incredibly well!”
