Cassian's POV
The dining table is set, and the meal is served.
She sits opposite me, her eyes locking with mine for a few seconds, then completely avoiding my gaze for the next. She does this in circles, her hands tight against each other beneath the table.
She seems like a completely different person from the girl she was in the room.
"Rachel, believe me, you'll love every bit of this meal."
She nods. She doesn't speak.
"You don't think you would?"
"I'm not doubting," she finally lets her lips move. "The aroma is already an obvious sign."
She resumes staring at me again, and this time, she doesn't back down. My earlier judgment proves wrong. She's already escaped nervousness. She can't be nervous around me, not when the bond is starting to have its full effect on us.
She takes a bite of red meat. "What if…"
"What if, about what?"
"What if all this fades?"
This isn't the time for these conversations. I think we agree to have the best of this moment.
