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Maxim gives him a salute and then allows Emma to drag him away. As we watch their retreating backs, Vincent presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Come on. Let’s go inside. I’m so over this day.”
“Yeah, let’s do it.” I agree, sticking close to his side as we make our way into my room.
It’s so similar to his that a tremor runs through me as we walk in, but then I take in a breath and remind myself of the subtle differences. It’s almost a mirror image of his with the bed and all the furniture on the other side, and while the art on the walls is similar, it’s not exactly the same.
Vincent sheds his swim trunks and the T-shirt someone must’ve gotten for him to wear while we were talking to the police and flips the cover back on the bed. “Come here,” he says softly, crawling onto the mattress and patting the space between his legs. “I just need to hold you for a while.”
“Can you give me a minute? I feel like I need a shower first.”
He nods. “Sure. Go for it. I’ll grab one after you.”
“Okay.” I agree, glad that he’s giving me a few moments on my own. I need him more than anything else right now, but I also need to wash the day and the fight off me, and I prefer to do it by myself. My head—and my scalp—are fucking sore. I’ve felt a few bald spots with my fingers. Since no one has mentioned it, I’m assuming it’s not obvious, but I want to see it for myself anyway.
After giving him a quick kiss on the lips, I head into the bathroom and close the door behind me. I can practically feel his eyes on my back as I walk away from him, but I’ll explain later. I need to know how bad it looks first.
As it is, I know he’s going to blame himself for not stopping Justin earlier, but the reality is if either of us had done anything differently, we might’ve gotten shot. I’ll take a bit of pain and discomfort over that any day of the week.
When I first look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see the bald spots I felt, but as I lean forward, they jump out at me. They’re not as obvious as I thought they could be, but once I see them, I know I won’t ever be able to not see them again. My scalp is an ugly dark pink with red blotches on it, several chunks on the one side of my head totally hairless.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. Not because of the hair. I know it’ll grow back. This severe urge to cry has everything to do with the fact that now, every time Vincent looks at me or I look at myself, we’re both going to see those spots and relive the terrifying experience we had today.
I don’t want that. I don’t want Vincent to think about Justin when he’s looking at me. I don’t want to think about Justin when I’m looking at me. I just want to be able to put all this behind us. As much as we can anyway.
Something about the look on Vincent’s face and the way he handled the whole clothing issue is bugging me. As it is, I think we’re going to have a much harder time of it than we think we are. This is just going to exasperate that…
The water hurts the bald and sensitive spots once I get in the shower, but I push through. After washing my hair and my body, I climb out and wrap a towel around myself. I didn’t bring pajamas into the bathroom, but it hardly matters.
I doubt either of us is in the mood to do anything about my nakedness right now, and since it’s nothing Vincent hasn’t already seen, I’m not worried about walking out of the bathroom in only my towel.
When I do, Vincent sits up on the bed, concern flashing dark in his eyes as he looks back at me. “Want to tell me what that was all about before I go shower?”
I sigh, motioning to my towel-dried hair. “There’s some of it missing. Just… don’t freak out when you notice it, okay? It’s not that sore, and I don’t want to have to worry about you thinking about—”
He crosses the distance between us in a few long, sure strides, clasps his hands together at the back of my neck, and ducks his head to look at me intently. “Baby, I noticed it as soon as I walked out of that conference room, and I didn’t freak out because it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still my gorgeous, fierce girl who kicked a really big guy’s ass today. I’m never going to look at you and be thinking about him.”
Those aquamarine eyes are stormy with intensity, but I can see he means every word. After quickly pressing a kiss to each of my eyelids, he releases me. “Why don’t you find us something to watch? I’ve called room service for our soup and grilled cheese, and James is blowing up your phone. You might want to let him know we’re okay and then tell him not to come over. If you don’t text him back soon, he’s going to come here, which is fine by me, but you said you want to be alone.”
Loud knocks at our door come the very next moment, and it’s James’s voice that filters through it after them. “Liv? Vince? I swear I’m going to kick this door down, and then we’ll have to pay for another one. Just open up.”
Vincent winks at me. “I’m going to take a shower. If you’re okay with him staying, so am I.”
I stare after him as he walks away, still trying to figure out the changes in him before James knocks again. Sighing as I go to the door, I open it and find myself in James’s and Isabella’s arms not a second later.
“We had to come,” she coos into my ear as she hugs me tight. “Everyone said you guys were tired, and we get that, but we’re here anyway. If you want to watch a movie, we’ll do that. If you want to talk, we’ll listen, and if you want to keep quiet, we’ll do that too, but we’re not leaving.”
I hug her back, stroking her and James’s back as they hang on to me. “We’re not talking about what happened if you stay.”
James lets go of me and rocks back on his heels. “You’re in a towel. Do you want to go get dressed before Vincent loses his head about me seeing you this way? Then we’ll talk.”
“Or not talk,” Isabella adds, kicking off her shoes and walking over to the bed. “What do you feel like eating? I’ll order room service while you change.”
“Vincent has ordered for us, but you guys get what you want,” I say, heading over to the dresser and pulling out a pair of pajamas. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
When I walk into the bathroom to change, he’s in the shower, naked and glistening with body wash. He gives me a curious look as he washes the soap off. “Is he staying?”
“Yep, but it’s not just him. It’s Izzy too,” I say. “James wanted me to get dressed before you freak out on him.”
Vincent does a slow double take. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. Hey, can you ask them to order some ice cream when you go back out there?”
