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Because maybe Brick was right. He’d made assumptions about her.
Fuck. Fuck.
He’d known she was strong. But for some reason, he’d just decided she couldn’t take his darker side. That he wasn’t good enough for her.
So yeah, he was a fucking coward.
Suddenly, he noticed food filling the plate in front of him. Juliet was piling it high with grilled fish, fried potatoes, and coleslaw. Not unexpectedly, her plate held very little food.
Nothing much changed there.
“Enough, Twink,” he told her when she tried to fit more on. “I didn’t swim enough to burn through this many calories.”
She’d quickly showered and wore another long, black dress.
Which he fucking hated.
Why had he never encouraged her more? Helped her to stop hiding so much?
Fuck. He’d really been an idiot.
“You need to eat more, Duchess,” Brick said, putting more food on her plate as she wrinkled her nose, giving him a stubborn look.
Xavier nearly grinned. He hadn’t been the recipient of that look very often, mostly because he generally let her get her own way. In everything.
Christ. Yep. Idiot.
Because he wanted a brat who wore her hair in braids and held tea parties and held onto him so tight when she was scared or afraid. Who’d never give him instant obedience. Who’d never step foot in a club.
But his happiest memories over the last two years all involved the brat currently refusing to eat any of the fish. Her eyes were narrowed, and he knew that a tantrum was brewing.
He’d spoiled her to death. And he’d loved every minute.
He should have opened himself up. Should have been brave enough to recognize his feelings for her and tell her about his needs.
Now, it was too late.
“Duchess,” Brick said warningly. “You need to eat.”
And now, he found himself in the unenviable position of helping someone else learn how to take care of his girl. The job that had been his for so long that he hadn’t realized its worth.
He’d taken her for granted.
Ignored his feelings for her.
He probably deserved to lose her. Brick wasn’t exactly who he had imagined she would end up with. He was gruff, blunt, firm.
But maybe that was what she needed.
Except he couldn’t help but think she might need something from him as well. But that was wishful thinking. What could she need from him that she didn’t get from Brick?
“Duchess, damn it,” Brick said quietly. There was a note of frustration in his voice. And worry.
Because she wasn’t eating.
Well, even if she wasn’t his, this was something he could help with. The other two people at the table were engaged in a quiet conversation and not paying them any attention.
“She’s a nibbler,” he told Brick.
