Amara lifted her eyes, slow and unimpressed. "Warn me?" she echoed. "Travis, there isn't a warning in the world strong enough to prepare anyone for anything. I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say."
He huffed out a breath that might've been a laugh, except there was nothing funny about any of this. His voice dipped, low enough that she could feel it settle under her skin.
"Still. You didn't deserve that."
Amara pushed off the counter, straightened her spine, and reached for a glass. Water. She needed something plain.
"So," she said, taking a small sip, "your mother wants you to remarry." She smacked her lips, nodding her head thoughtfully.
Travis dragged a hand through his hair. "She wants control. Marriage is just her favorite leash."
Amara's mouth twitched. She smiled. "Does it work on you?"
"It used to," he admitted. "Not anymore. I had to get it off my chest to realize it doesn't work on me."
