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“You should always detox your organs, Sammy. It’ll help boost your immune system and build stamina. Plus, even though you don’t need it, they say it’s good for your libido.”
My head starts to throb.
“Fine, fine,” I mumble avoiding the yellowish liquid in her glass. I glance around, once more taking in all the…color. “What the hell happened here?”
Freedom looks around. “What?”
I wave my hands like a crazy person. “This.”
“Oh, you mean the room? It really livens the place up, doesn’t it?”
“Why? Why did you paint my living room?” I ask, the words barely audible as I take in the pink walls. It’s the only color to describe it.
“You said to make myself at home,” she says, matter-of-factly, as if completely redecorating my living space is a solid enough reason.
“In the guest room, Freedom. I didn’t mean to repaint my living room pink!”
She just stares at me, blinking. “First off, it’s not pink, it’s Soothing Sunset Coral. And second, why wouldn’t I make myself at home in the living room too? There was too much white, Sammy. It was like a hospital in here, and even those have more life than this place. So, I added a few splashes of color.”
“Splashes of color? My coffee table is green!”
“Simply Seafoam,” she corrects with a smile.
“Hell,” I grumble and rub my chest. I really think I’m having a heart attack. Or maybe a panic attack? “How did you do all of this so fast? I mean, my door is blue.”
“Just the outside,” she boosts proudly. “it’s so much more welcoming, isn’t it?”
I just groan in response. My entertainment center, my coffee table and end tables, they’re all green—or Simply Seafoam—as she so elegantly put it. My walls are pink. The pillows are bright shades of blues, greens, and pinks, and there’s a bright yellow rug in the middle of my floor. “How did you do all this?”
She shrugs. “I started when you left for work. When you finish one coat on something, you move on the next. It wasn’t hard, really. Plus, I’m used to it. I repaint my walls and furniture at least four or six times a year,” she states chipperly.
She’s so blasé about it. Like she didn’t just completely change my entire living room without so much as a care for my own tastes and wants. What the hell is wrong with white walls and oak furniture? Nothing. Nothing is wrong with it, but now, it’s all covered in crazy colors. If I ever want to go back—and Lord knows, I definitely will—I’ll have to sand everything down and stain it. It’ll take so much time to put it back to the way it was.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I tell her, my hands on my hips.
Freedom glances around, the slightest hint of a smile on her plump lips. “Thank you.”
Clearly, she took it as a compliment. I run my hands through my hair, chastising myself for still not making my hair appointment. But that’s the least of my worries right now. Right now, I’m so mad at her, I could spank her.
When I look her way, her eyes sparkle with desire. “What?” I ask, trying to read the look on her face.
“You want to spank me?”
Did I say that aloud?
She takes a step toward me, her chin raised, as if poised for a fight. “I thought I was helping you.”
“Helping me?”
“Making the place look better. Like a home. Like someone lives here.”
“Someone does live here, Freedom. Me!”
“And you don’t like what I did?” she asks, the slightest hint of vulnerability etched in those dark eyes. She runs her hands up my chest, smoothing my lapel and straightening my tie. Electricity jolts through my body, and we’re not even skin-to-skin.
“It’s not me,” I croak.
She shrugs. “I think it’ll grow on you.” Then, she goes up on her tiptoes, her lips a hair’s breadth away from my lips as she adds, “Like me.”
