“It’s nothing.”

He uncorks the wine and pours it into the empty glass in front of me.

He smirks. “Yeah, sure. Have some of my chicken. It’s better than your salad.” Cutting me a piece, he transfers it onto my plate.

“Hey, don’t give me the leg. That’s the best part.”

“You should always have the best.” Our eyes lock until he looks away.

We eat quietly. It’s filled with warmth and comfort.

You like him, my brain reminds me. So, so much. But he won’t ever give you more than his backseat, my heart reminds me.

“So, your parents are from Iran?”

My silver fork drops, clattering against the plate. “Who told you that?” The quiver in my voice is unmistakable.

He laughs out loud. “I asked Eve.” Simple, his silence adds.

My eyes narrow, as I feel oddly betrayed. How could she have told him this?

Never in my life have I been ashamed of my heritage. All is well on the coasts where the left-wing reigns, and cultural diffusion is typical. But, in the rest of the country, I’m considered the other. And here is this man, a military man, who fought for my freedom.

It worries me to believe that he would see me and think, She’s the enemy.

Not that he’s ever given me a reason to believe that, but I’m still worried he would.

Food rises to the back of my throat as tears prickle my eyes. I continuously swallow, trying to get rid of them. Luckily, I manage to bring the unshed tears down to the center of my body.

True, my parents didn’t arrive via the Mayflower. But my Persian heritage is part of me, and I refuse to show any kind of embarrassment. I have nothing to hide. If he thinks worse of me, then he isn’t worth my time. And anyway—

“Sunshine, it’s fine.” His words interrupt my thoughts. “I know your parents aren’t terrorists.” He lets out a dark, full-bellied laugh, assuring me that all is well. “Some of the best men I’ve ever known are Middle Eastern. You gotta think better of me, right? I know who you are, Lauren.”

Does he?

His words echo around my ribs, tapping on my heart.

“Seeing as you’re the way you are, I’m sure your parents are wonderful people, too.”

I nod, still not trusting myself to speak. I didn’t realize the extent of my worry until now.

“And don’t get mad. I asked Eve an innocent question, and she had no reason to lie. Is that why you didn’t tell me when I asked at the wedding? You were afraid I wouldn’t like it?” he teases me, smiling as he cuts up more of his food.

I burn from embarrassment because he’s right. I thought he’d run away if he knew.

“Don’t mock me about this, Slade. I was worried. You’re right. But there’s a lot of hatred in the world. And how would I have known your views?”

“I’ll try not to be offended.” He continues to eat, finishing his chicken and moving on to a steak with sliced beefsteak tomatoes on the side.