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My only thought is getting cleaned up and ready to crawl.
Lily
How do you mend a broken heart? I always thought you got under someone to get over them. See how well that worked? I couldn’t even handle the guy kissing my neck.
Maybe there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It has only been two weeks, after all. But why does this shit still hurt? It’s not like we were in love. My heart shouldn’t even be broken.
Yet, it’s after lunch on a Sunday, and I haven’t even crawled out of bed. I’ve been too busy wallowing in grief and self-pity.
I know Liam has issues or reservations about us. He always has. Every rendezvous was always a secret. When whatever this is with us first began, I didn’t mind. It was thrilling and exciting. And it was just sex. Weekends of fun-filled adventures between the sheets. And against the walls. On the floor. Hanging from the door by my hair…
Great. Now I’m miserable and horny.
If being in love feels like this, they can keep it because it sucks.
Don’t be a dumb bitch, Aliana.
Shut up, brain. No one asked you.
But even as I argue with myself, I know it’s not my brain talking. It’s my damn traitorous heart. That jackass made me fall in love with him. I’ve been a lovesick fool after I promised myself I never would.
Love is fickle. It only leads to pain—hence me lying in bed at two in the afternoon feeling like I just want to disappear. It feels good for a while, but will always, without fail, lead to heartbreak. I’ve seen it firsthand with my parents. I may have been small, but I saw how much my mom hurt my dad because she never moved on from her first love.
I was seven when Dad found out about Mom. Even though I was supposed to be in bed, I heard the confrontation. My dad was devastated. He worshipped the ground my mom walked on, but after lots of shouting and begging, she admitted her infidelity. Worse, she admitted it wasn’t one time or even one man.
My dad became a shell for months. He remained a great dad, but he was sad and hurt. Understandably so.
When he moved out, things got even worse. Angel was already spiraling because of the constant fighting, but when Dad moved out, he all but vanished. I remember he’d sneak out all hours of the night, then slip back in as the sun would come up. He always smelled funny, too. Now I know it was a combination of cheap perfume from whatever girl he was with and alcohol. Back then, I just knew something was wrong.
Then, my dad met someone and remarried. He’s seemed happy since, but I still wait for the day that falls apart, too. Nothing, not even love, lasts forever.
Liam’s ex-wife broke his heart, too. She was his first love, and she tossed him away like he was nothing. No. What she did was worse. Tossing him away would’ve been less cruel. Instead, she continued to torture him with his daughter while getting him in her bed every chance she got. She didn’t want him, but she didn’t want him to move on. And the reason he allowed it was obvious. He still loved her.
And he’s still not over it or her.
***
I lay naked next to him, trailing my fingers over his magnificent torso as he leaned against the headboard with his fingers laced behind his head. Bright blue eyes glimmered with amusement as I counted the ridges, running my fingers over every hill and valley of the defined muscle. “Do you do sit-ups every second of the day?”
His lips tucked between his teeth in a poor attempt to hide his laughter. “I try to work out when time allows, which isn’t as much as I would like. Tour buses aren’t always accommodating for exercise, though, so I have to make do when I can. It’s great stress relief.”
My head lifted, tossing a good-natured pout at him. “I spend three hours a day, five days a week in the gym, and I can’t get a two-pack. How is that fair?”
He shrugged, his eyes roving with hunger over my naked form. A devilish smirk curled one side of his mouth as his tongue snaked over his lips. “Don’t know, but to be clear, I prefer my women with a little…” He waggled his brows, then lowers his arms until his hand cupped my ass, squeezing hard. “Give.”
My palms smacked his stomach as my eyes turned toward the ceiling. “Whatever. Good thing I’m not your woman. This thing is just sex, remember?” I could almost swear he growled but decided I imagined it. “When I walk out of here, the next guy might prefer his woman with abs. Not that I concern myself with what a man wants. It’s about what I want. And I want the abs I bust my ass for.”
A strange look flashed in his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was catching feelings, and I did not want that. I wasn’t looking for feelings, connections, or anything resembling it. Those kinds of things never lasted, which meant someone would always get hurt. He was proof of that very fact. The sporadic hookups worked fine for me.
Then I laughed at myself, knowing there was no way he felt anything beyond sexual attraction. And maybe a bit of possessiveness, typical of men like him when we were together. He had too many hangups and too much baggage for feelings to become an issue. It was his idea to keep these rendezvous secret, after all.
Changing the subject, needing to eliminate the sudden awkward silence, I lifted my finger to the artwork on his forearm. An old antique guitar covers the inside. The finest details make it look as realistic as any tattoo could, from the grain of the wood to the roses on the fretboard. Samuel Casey Parsons was written in delicate script along the curve of the body like an engraving. “My grandfather,” he told me, his voice heavy with gravel as he hid his emotions. “Had Dane do that to cover some bullshit I had there from when I was a dumbass kid.”
“It’s beautiful,” I muttered, still in awe of the beautiful piece, then moved to a set of baby’s footprints resting right over his heart, surrounded by sunflowers and her name woven in vines. Cassandra Adelaide Parsons. My eyes lifted to his. “Your daughter?”
The smile that spread across his face was pure adoration. “My first ink. She came into this world with deep blue eyes and pale hair. My mom called her a little sunflower. I think because of how my grandmother—her mother—kept her kitchen decorated for… Well, forever. She came out feet first and owned my heart the moment she did.”
My chin propped on my hands resting over his stomach, and I grinned wide. “You’re a wonderful dad.”
