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Mal checked his watch. It wasn’t late, close to eight, but I was taking away his distraction so he was ready to bolt.
“Yeah, sure.”
It took me longer to get Shawn down. He fought hard against going to bed, knowing Malcolm was here. When I got back downstairs, Malcolm sat on the couch, looking like he’d been called into the principal’s office. I noticed he’d put away the toys, and Shawn’s books were stacked neatly on the ottoman. He’d also removed the wine bottle and my glass from the side table. I shot a quick glance toward the kitchen, didn’t see the bottle there, nor did it sit on the bar.
Pressing my lips together, I held back from asking about it as I took a seat on the couch next to him and half expected him to get up and move, but he didn’t. “Thanks for staying.”
“No problem. I guess spending time with you is slightly more important than kicking G’s ass in Madden.”
“Wow. You know how to make a girl feel special.”
He leaned over, bumping me with his shoulder. “I do what I can.”
I slipped my arm around his. My heart rate increased. A tidal wave of dread washed over me. I mentally counted to ten, trying to get ahold of the uncertainty. I’d wanted to talk to him, but now every reason why I should let it go played in my head. My hand squeezed Malcolm’s arm.
“You all right?”
I nodded. “Yeah...yeah I’m okay. Just got a little dizzy.”
“Too much wine?”
I sat up, moving away from him. “Are you going to lecture me again about my drinking?”
“For real? First, I’ve never lectured you about a damn thing. I made an observation that you took the wrong way. Secondly, it was a simple fucking question. You had drinks. You said you were dizzy. It’s not a huge fucking leap to connect the two together.”
I stood and crossed my arms across my chest. “It felt more like a judgement than a simple observation.”
“If it felt that way, then that has more to do with you than me.”
I turned my head, feeling the sting of his words as harshly as a slap to the face. The nervous jitters in my stomach intensified. Mal was right. His question had been simple, but his previous comments about my drinking, coupled with my anxiousness, set me on edge.
“How does this happen? All I did was ask a question and you were ready to bite my head off.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive.”
His arms wrapped around me, and I sighed as I leaned into his embrace.
He kissed the top of my head. “I’m not gonna lie, baby, your drinking bothers me. And before you go off on me, let me explain. I don’t care that you drink. I care about the reason why you drink.”
“It’s just a few glasses of wine. You’re reading too much into it.”
He pulled away, and lifted my chin so he could see my face. His warm, hazel eyes stared at me. Normally, such scrutiny would make me feel self-conscience, but this was Mal. His gaze never held judgement. When he looked at me, I knew he really saw me, the real me. I was of two minds about that. On one hand, Malcolm knowing my darkest secrets added to my anxiety. On the other, I took comfort in the fact that I didn’t have to pretend.
“Don’t do that. You want to lie to yourself fine, but don’t bullshit me.” His tone was stern, but a
lso full of warmth.
I turned away. His words caused tendrils of shame to slither through me. Any excuse I would have tried to give shriveled up, too afraid to be voiced and meet his scrutiny. Truth or silence; my only options.
Mustering up some courage, and doing my best to ignore the overwhelmed feeling that was gaining speed, I turned back to meet his gaze. “I don’t need...I just…” I paused and let out a forced breath. “It helps sometimes. To cope or deal, whatever. Sometimes I just need something.”
The look on his face changed to that same sad expression he’d had yesterday morning. Not exactly the look I’d expected. I thought he’d be angry, or even show concern, but he looked hurt.
Malcolm tucked my bangs behind my ear. His fingers trailed down my jaw, coming to stop on my chin. He tilted my head up to meet his lips. I was given a feather-light kiss before he stepped away.
“First, your panic attacks return. Now, you’re drinking to cope. This. Me. It’s not good for you. The more I hear you struggle to deal, the more I kick myself for, as you said, ambushing you into this relationship.”
“What? No, Malcolm...that’s not…” I took a breath. Truth. “Malcolm, I’ve been drinking since the first night I had to stay alone in this house. It was just me and Shawn, my parents moved into their house. He’d been crying nonstop, because my mom had been the one to take care of him. I…I hadn’t wanted to.”
