Alyssa Kress

“lowered the finger she'd been gnawing and frowned. On the other hand, Robby had said things: about their absent father, about Dean's own youth spent shunted away in boarding schools, and about the endless stream of stepmothers. She could almost see why Dean behaved the way he did. He practically didn't have a choice. If no one had treated him with warmth, how could he know how to treat anyone else with warmth? She'd noticed his abruptness when he'd met them out on the patio the other evening. It had been as if he'd wanted to join in, but had no idea how. As if, maybe, he were shy. Kelly combed her hair back with one hand. Heck, maybe a part of 'her' Dean was inside there, trapped. With her hand in her hair, Kelly halted. She blinked at the colorful array of her clothes. Whoa! No. Stop. Maybe Dean had suffered a lonely childhood, maybe no one had ever showed him they cared. Maybe that made him wall himself away, in self-defense. But more likely he was just a cold fish. Slowly, she finished combing her hand through her hair. She had a habit of making up virtuous qualities in a man to support her attraction. She couldn't do that this time. She had to keep her eyes open, her judgment clear. She had to see the man for who he truly was, and not who she wished he would be. 'Her' Dean, trapped inside. Kelly shook her head at herself. Not likely. The real Dean was utterly self-contained, an island unto himself, and happy to be so. He wasn't needy. She'd see that crystal clear after spending five hours at the opera with him. She pursed her lips and reached out to toy with a cerise silk number. That's right. She could get rid of her ridiculously romantic vision of 'Dean' trapped inside of Dean by the end of the evening. She'd see that her husband”
― Alyssa Kress, Marriage by Mistake