Page 66 of Apparently, I’m A B!tch

My Emi raised me to keep acts of kindness private, and that’s what my shaabiyat were. I gave them to Nikki every day, just wanting to see the joy she took from these pastries. It was reward enough–I didn’t need any praise or payback for it, so why tell her I was the one who made them?

But that was something Nikki didn’t seem to understand as she parted those pretty lips and looked at me with incredulity. “So you’ve been making baklava–”

“Shaabiyat.”

“Don’t start! You’ve been making that for me for years, and you never thought to tell me? I’m always honest with you… and you’re still keeping secrets like this from me.”

The sudden outrage in her tone penetrated my confusion, and I realized she was picking a fight.

“And then there was the shop. You never told me you bought it! You just told me to come in so I could tell you what I thought and what did I see? My favorite place in the whole world turned into a trendy sell-out gallery! And then there was the marinara hands. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me how I made that stain. I’d ask what else you’ve been keeping from me, but there’s Rochelle too. After nine years, you finally make a move on me, but you do it while you’re dating someone else?”

“Nikki, I told you–”

“I’m not done!” I shut my mouth as she paced behind the dining table, keeping the wood and appliances between us. “These have been the worst five months of my life. You and I got awkward, and things got worse at work. And I missed you. I needed you to tell me it was all going to be okay, that we would be okay. But you weren’t there the way I needed you to be. When you kissed me, I thought maybe things were getting better again, but…” she trailed off and shook her head, looking up at me with such loss in her glassy hazel eyes.

“I know I’m not making any sense! I know it sounds like I’m expecting too much from you. It’s just that I thought you and I knew everything about each other, and I relied on that. When everything changed–when you bought the shop, when I started working at L&K–it felt like I was losing everything I loved. I felt like everyone hated me.” She put her hands to her cheeks, wiped at her tears, and then threw her arms wide. “It scares me when you tell me you love me, because how can I trust that? Everything’s changed, and I don’t know how to handle any of this.”

I didn’t care whether or not she wanted me to comfort her; she was upset and I needed to make things right again. I stepped by the table separating us and gathered her close.

She shuddered in my arms, tears soaking into my shirt, and I whispered against her hair, “I’m sorry.” She trembled against me and I took a breath. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you the way you needed me to be. I’m sorry it took me so long to be honest about how I felt. But I swear, there’s no one else for me. I love you and only you, and I will always be here. No matter how many times you insult my paintings.”

She buried her head against my chest and let out a wet laugh. “I hate that I did that. You’re an incredible artist, and you deserve a showing.” She sniffed. “I should’ve been more understanding about Rochelle.”

“No, I should’ve told you everything from the minute she propositioned me. But I need you to trust me when I tell you I love you. It’s the one thing I’d never lie about.”

She lifted her face to stare up at me, her small hands gripping onto my shirt, and my emotions swirled, tightening in my chest.

“I love you, Tristan. I do.”

She angled her chin and lifted on her toes, brushing her lips against mine. I firmed my hold on her and deepened our kiss, only breaking away to ask, “What if we had a clean slate?”

“A clean slate?”

“From now on, you’ll know the truth about everything. No surprises, just honesty.”

Something like relief crossed behind her eyes and it was a punch to the gut to know she was struggling with trusting me all this time. But I was glad to know we worked through this. It finally seemed like Nikki and I were going to move past the mess I created.

“Okay. Deal.” She looked at the analog clock hanging on the wall above my shoulder and groaned. “I have to meet my parents for dinner. Can we talk later?”

She tried to step away from me, but I wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

I pulled her back into my arms, holding her body against mine. As a sweet gasp escaped her lips, I gripped her tighter and pushed her back against the closed door of my studio.

“Tristan, what are you doing?”

I didn’t answer, I didn’t want to stop and think. I was done with thinking everything through and making compromises. She wasn’t going to leave this shop without knowing exactly how I felt about her.

I brushed my lips along hers and her body arched against me. Her legs widened, letting me push myself between them. Her breath hitched as I took her lips into mine, enjoying the taste of her. My tongue slowly stroked hers, and she moaned as I gripped her hips tighter, pushing against the seam of her trousers, caging her in and letting her feel what she did to me.

My phone rang and I ignored it, letting it go to voicemail as I savored the way Nikki held onto me as we kissed, her hands grasping onto my shirt, pulling me close. I lifted her and she wrapped her legs around me, letting me grind deeper against her, giving her a taste of what I wished had actually happened during our misguided marinara-hands incident.

The ringing ended and my phone buzzed with a voicemail, but I didn’t care. Whatever it was, whoever it was, could wait. The only thing that mattered were the soft sounds of pleasure Nikki made against my mouth.

I whispered into her lips, “You purr like a kitten when we kiss. Maybe your surname does fit you after all.”

She laughed softly and murmured, “Remind me to claw your back the next time I’m underneath you.”

I let out a groan, picturing the feel of her nails digging into my skin, but whatever drunken state I’d put Nikki in, the vibration of my phone was dousing her out of it. “You should get that. I really do have to go.”

Because she asked, I pulled my hands away from her body with a bone deep reluctance, and went to the damn phone resting on my table.

Behind me, I could hear her pluck a fresh shaabiyat from the tray before opening the studio door.

I was in the middle of deleting Rochelle’s latest unanswered call from my cell, and startled when she urgently called out, “Tristan?”

“What is it?”

Framed by my studio doorway, was Rochelle. She stood in my staff room and glared at Nikki with disgust.