Desar glanced up at me, looking momentarily confused as if he’d just realized I was there. “Order another plate,” he said. “I’ll peel some for you too.”
I took a breath, my heart sinking as I shook my head. “No need. I don’t like shrimp.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking surprised. “What about fish?”
“I don’t like it either,” I replied, tone steady.
“Chicken?”
“Desar, it’s fine,” I said, more firmly this time, my voice devoid of emotion. “I don’t like anything you’re offering.”
He looked genuinely thrown as if he couldn’t fathom that I’d turned down his small attempt to appease me. I didn’t even bother meeting his gaze, focusing instead on my glass, the ice clinking softly as I took a slow sip.
Elize, ever so gracious, placed a hand on Desar’s arm, glancing over at me with a faint, almost pitying smile. “Maisie, please, don’t be upset. I’m sure Desar didn’t mean to forget about you.”