My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 71

Nothing in your past will impact you more than regret. 

Holding my husband's hand as we walk into a diner feels alien to me. The touches we've exchanged in our lives are seldom exhibited in public like this; so accessible to those who look hard enough, shared not only with ourselves but with the world. Strangely, though, it still feels intimate; we're the only two people who know the significance of our affection. 

We pick a booth in the middle of the place so we can be near each other without leaning over a table. In a time like this, I especially don't want to put distance between us when it isn't necessary. 

"What are you having?" I ask, peering over Anakin's laminated menu. 

His finger lands on the Kibi strip listing, not far from my hand. "I was going to get this one." He slides his hand over to the second column of listings, pointing out the Mygeeto burrito. "But this dish also seemed interesting." 

"Well," I say, taking his hand and pointing my finger parallel to his, "I was thinking of getting the Kibi strip too. You could try some of mine." 

"I want you to eat, though," he argues. "No less than I am." 

"Okay. So I'll take some of yours and order another dish. The smoked redfish sounded interesting." 

Anakin stares at the wall, a million different thoughts flashing across his eyes in quick succession. A few seconds later, he turns to me. "Deal," he says, gripping my pinky finger with his. 

I smile, shaking his finger, and then lean forward to kiss him. This is still a competition, after all, so making the first move is crucial to winning. 

He reciprocates the move immediately, deepening the kiss by stroking his tongue against mine. I'm taken aback by his approach—despite our disguises, we are still in public. But if this is what we're competing about, I have no qualms about our decency. I brush my leg over his and slowly, amorously, tuck it in between both of his, shifting my weight to sit in his lap. He takes me in, body and soul, tugging on the satin straps at the back of my dress. 

Anakin's head is tilting to accommodate mine, his arms tight around my torso, when I suddenly pull away. I stay here long enough to notice his cheeks growing red before I clamber off his lap. 

He briefly turns to me, closes his eyes, and smiles as his chin hits his chest. 

"Too much?" I ask although I hope his answer won't be yes. 

My husband shakes his head, looking back at me. "That was perfect. Not too much to attract attention; we don't want to make a scene." 

I laugh in disbelief. "Ani, have I made you...cautious?" 

"Yes- No, no...you didn't, um... You didn't do that, I've always been like this." 

"No, you haven't. I distinctly remember you being reckless for years after we met." 

"No, I wasn't." 

"Come on, you lived off the thrill of impulsivity." 

He doesn't say anything, but his brow furrows, and he won't look back at me. This must be some kind of practical joke. 

"I mean, you know who you are—" 

Anakin stands up and shuffles out of the booth, apparently in a hurry. I try to follow him, but by the time I've left our table, he's running out the door. 

I don't know what could've happened. Did I say something wrong? No, there's no way—I've pointed out his impulsivity in a playful manner countless times, and he's never reacted like this.