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I choked on my own spit. “MeeMaw!” I said, my face flooding with heat.
“It’s true. One side always sags worse than the other.” She patted my arm and laughed out loud when I grimaced. I didn’t like thinking about MeeMaw’s tits. I didn’t even want to know MeeMaw had tits.
“Call me if you need me,” I warned. “I’m going to sleep for a couple of hours, and then Shelly and I will probably go to the office, and to dinner, so we can be seen by those who might want to see us.”
“It’s sad that Megan went after Shelly’s family.” She shook her head.
“Shelly doesn’t love very
many people,” I said.
MeeMaw stared at me. “I don’t think that’s her problem.”
“Enlighten me, MeeMaw,” I prompted. She was going to do it anyway.
“I think her problem might just be that no one has ever loved her enough.”
She patted my chest as those words sank deep inside me, twisting my heart in a jumbled mess.
“Get some sleep,” she said. Then she disappeared down the hall.
Shelly had closed the door to my room when she’d left it to go to her own, so I opened the door and flipped on the light. Then I stopped short, because Shelly was in my bed. On my side of the bed. With her head on my pillow. And she was sound asleep.
I stared at her for more than a few seconds. She was sleeping soundly with her hand resting under her cheek. I turned the light back off, took a quick shower, changed into boxers and a t-shirt, and I tiptoed around to the side of the bed that Shelly wasn’t occupying. I slid between the covers, taking care not to jostle her. She didn’t even take up much space. She seemed tiny and vulnerable on her side of the bed. Shelly usually seemed larger than life, and far from vulnerable. But right now, for the very first time, I felt like there could be more to Shelly than I’d ever realized.
MeeMaw had said that no one had ever loved her enough. But had anyone ever really loved her at all? Even Lynn’s love had been conditional until recently. And that…well, that seemed like a tragedy. Everyone deserved to be loved. Even Shelly.
Particularly Shelly.
Chapter 20
Shelly
I’d never slept in a bed with a man before, and I wasn’t sure if I was highly opposed to the idea of doing it again, or if I was looking forward to it. I’d woken up before Clark did, so I took the time to study him in his sleep. He slept with one arm over his head, his mouth hanging open as harsh breaths escaped his mouth. Every now and then, a noisy rattle rose from his nose. Then he adjusted and the sound stopped.
I knew when he woke up, and I knew he was pretending to still be asleep. “Do you always stare at sleeping men like a weirdo?” he asked, his voice roughened with sleep.
“I’ve never slept with a man before, so no, I can’t say I always stare.” I rested the side of my head in my upturned palm. He still had his eyes closed, but I knew he was awake.
He snorted, and then he reached up to scratch the stubble on his chin. “Don’t even try to tell me you’re a virgin.”
“I said slept with, Clark. I didn’t say fucked.”
His breath hitched. It was almost imperceptible, but I caught it. “There’s a difference?”
I lowered my voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “Well, one involves a penis and a vagina,” I began. “And the other just involves a bed and exhaustion.”
“Stop talking about my penis,” he said, his voice getting raspier, more than just sleepy. He reached down and not so discreetly shoved his junk to the side.
I laughed and buried the noise in his pillow. I stopped to sniff it. “Your bed smells like you,” I told him.
“That’s because you’re on my pillow. On my side of the bed.” He finally turned his head to look at me. “Why are you in my bed, Shelly?”
“Channing Tatum came in here to see me, just as I was getting out of the shower. He hopped up, so I stopped to pet him. I guess I fell asleep.” I raised my arms over my head to stretch.
“Do you have on pajamas?”
“T-shirt and shorts. Why?” I rolled my head so I could look at him again.
