“You know, despite evidence to the contrary, I don’t actually eat dessert for every meal. You’d make a terrible parent. All you’d feed your children is sugar.”

“Ha-ha. Come on, let’s go inside.”

“I’ll go in, on one condition,” she said, holding up a hand.

“Does that condition include eating you out? Because if so, you don’t even have to ask,” I replied, filthy flirting.

She sucked in a breath. “Ronan, you are….”

“Hush. I know. I’ve got a dirty mouth. Continue with your condition, honey.”

Shockingly, she gave me a playful scowl even as her cheeks blushed scarlet. “I’ll have the ice cream, but only if you have some, too.”

“Oh, will I be licking it off you then?”

I could tell she was trying not to smile now. “God, you’re insufferable. No, you won’t be licking it off me. You’ll be eating it from a cone, like a normal person who eats food for pleasure every once in a while, rather than only for fuel.”

I really, really didn’t want to eat the ice cream, mainly because it would fuck up my regime. However, I thought that maybe I could use this deal to my advantage. “Hmm, I’ll eat the ice cream—like a normal person—if you’ll let me ask you five questions about yourself. And you have to answer honestly, and you can’t talk about work for the entire duration of the conversation.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Two questions.”

“Three and it’s a deal,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “Besides, I’m going to have to learn more about you if we’re trying to convince people we’re a real couple.”

She sighed. Looking a little sad and—dare I say, regretful?—she shook my hand. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to order vanilla.”

I gave her a dark look. “Vanilla’s not my flavor, Annie.”

Shit, if only she knew.

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting on a park bench eating our ice creams. Annie had ordered one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of pistachio while I’d gone for a cherry chocolate combination. She watched me expectantly as I brought the ice cream to my mouth and licked it. And yeah, okay, I might have groaned a little at how good it was. I hadn’t had sugar in a long time, maybe a year. Annie smiled bigger than I’d ever seen her smile, looking satisfied.

“You can wipe that smug look off your face,” I said, eyeing the handful of paparazzi who were hovering across the street, snapping shots of us. “Otherwise, I may have to kiss it off.”

“Smug, moi?” she asked, happily licking away. The sight of her pink tongue sneaking out past her lips did great things for my filthy imagination.

“You know you are. Now, I think it’s time I got my side of the bargain. First question.” I hesitated, made sure she was looking into my eyes, and kept my tone carefully respectful. “What was it like growing up in foster care?”

Annie furrowed her brow. “Lonely. Frightening. Disappointing.”

“Why frightening?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re this little kid at the mercy of strange adults, strange kids. It’s like roulette. You could get nice people, or you could get bad ones.”

Thinking of her as a little girl being sent to live with bad people made me angry, and it made me want to tuck her away someplace safe and take care of her; but I didn’t let her see that. I was also careful to keep pity from my expression. “And why disappointing?”

“Because you get your hopes up, and then people decide they don’t want you anymore,” she practically whispered before her voice turned steely. “That’s why I never let my happiness or survival depend on others. It means I eliminate the disappointment.”

A light bulb went on like a fucking lightning strike, and understanding hit me.

Annie kept herself closed off from people, from relationships, so they couldn’t reject her. It made me wonder if she’d ever allowed herself to be in a relationship at all, which prompted my next question. “When was your last boyfriend?”

“I do believe you’ve had your three questions, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

“The second two were follow-ups. Not real questions. Answer me.”

She sighed, pursed her lips to show me she was dissatisfied, but answered anyway, “A little over two years ago. His name was Jamie. We…dated all through college.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I actually felt a bit disappointed with her answer. The possessive side of me wanted her never to have been with anyone. I was the kind of man who needed ownership, and that need had never been satisfied in my relationship with Brona. I never really felt like she was mine; she was sweet and unassuming at first, but soon she felt like an obligation, unable to take care of herself without my constant praise and reassurance. I also sensed she was always on the lookout for the next best thing.

“Follow-up question: Why did you break up with this Jamie person?”

“Follow-up? No, no, no. I fell for that once already.”

“Fine. Then tell me because you want to tell me.”

She considered me for a moment, licking the ice cream off her lips then sighed. “Fine. We weren’t in a very traditional relationship. We were exclusive, but….” She shook her head, frowning.

“What? He wouldn’t commit?”

“No. More like the other way around,” Annie muttered to her ice cream cone. “Anyway, he wanted something more substantial. I wasn’t amenable to his terms. So when I moved to New York, I saw no reason to continue our agreement.”