Don’t Pretend I’m Yours Read Online Natasha Anders

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
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She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, before making her way to the kitchen. Fifi stood up in her bed, and growled, hackles raised. Ben growled his own low warning at the dog, who gave him a pissed off look before sitting down again and watching Lilah with her distrusting beady eyes.

“Your dog does not like me,” Lilah said as she slid onto one of the bar stools. She propped her chin on her hands, resting her elbows on the kitchen counter.

“She’s not great with strangers, but she’ll get used to you and then realize that you’re another person with opposable thumbs who can access her treat jar. She’s very food driven, as soon as she sees you as a potential provider of snacks, she’ll be your best friend.”

Lilah slanted the dog an amused glance and chuckled when she saw that Fifi was still staring at her like she thought Lilah was Satan’s handmaiden.

“This is more than I expected. Or asked for,” Lilah said uncertainly when Ben slid her plate with two toasties, some fries and a portion of salad, across the counter toward her.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t finish it all,” he said, and fixed his own plate. He chose to remain standing across the counter from her, so that they could talk to each other while eating.

She delicately picked at one sandwich, while he scarfed down half of his in a few quick bites.

“I lied to you,” he admitted, deciding that it was best to bite the bullet and confront this issue head on.

She froze, hand suspended in mid-air where it had been in act of transporting a black olive to her mouth.

“Lied about what?”

“I knew you were staying here. I was, however, surprised to find you home when we arrived. I thought you’d be out. I regret the lie but I needed a breather.” Not a lie. “And Fifi does need some more green space.” Also not a lie. “And I wanted to see you.” Well, wasn’t he just on a truth-speaking streak right now?

“Why did you want to see me?” she asked.

Ben considered his reply, looking at it from all possible angles, before saying, “Because I missed you and I was concerned about you.”

“You should get out of the habit of being concerned about me, Ben,” she said, popping the olive into her mouth and chewing slowly. “Maybe if you’d even once seen me as an equal instead of this broken doll in need of care and fixing, we could’ve had something. But when our entire relationship is based on what you think you can do for me and not how we can take care of each other, it becomes unsustainable. You’ve seen me as a burden, to be coddled and lied to. Although you probably saw that as protecting me from the truth, instead of lying to me. Right?”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked so utterly astonished by the apology, Ben actually found himself flipping through his memories of their entire history together… looking for any former apologies he might have made to her.

There were none. Well, none where he specifically used the words, I’m sorry. And yet he could vividly recall her quite liberally and nonchalantly peppering those two words throughout their entire relationship history…

Starting with that heartfelt I’m sorry about your mom and dad back when they’d first met.

I’m sorry I dropped your stupid phone in the toilet.

Ooh, I’m so sorry I slayed you at Scrabble, Ben. Maybe pick up a dictionary once in a while.

So easy for her. While he had hoarded his apologies like they were gold.

It was time to change that. He cleared his throat, feeling awkward as hell, and said it again, “I’m so sorry, Lilah. You deserved better from me. From Cyrus. We weren’t fair.”

She looked confused, as if she weren’t entirely sure what to make of his words.

“Why are you saying this now?”

“Because it needs to be said.”

“Do you want something from me?”

Oh, God, that small, uncertain voice killed him. He hated that she had zero confidence in his sincerity, that she always believed him to be working some angle.

“No, mo chridhe, you can do with that what you will. But I want you to know that I mean it.”

She tore a corner of her sandwich off and listlessly nibbled on it.

“Okay.” Then asked, “what does that mean?”

The question confused him.

“What does what mean?”

“Mo chridhe, what does it mean?” She’d mangled the pronunciation but the meaning was clear.

“I said that?” he asked, stunned. He must have dropped it into the conversation without realizing it. His Gaelic was just about non-existent apart from a couple of words here and there, but his mother had used the endearment all the time, when he was a boy. As far as Ben could recall, he had never said it aloud before.

“You did. It’s not the first time, you said it the night we danced as well. Is it the same as the other one? Leannan? Sweetheart?”


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