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"Here," I say, offering them to her. "The bathroom's right down the hall. You can shower or take a bath if you want. Put your clothes outside the door. I'll wash and dry them."
Vanessa looks uncomfortable. Drenched and embarrassed as she is, she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I can't help the warmth in my eyes when I look at her.
She shifts from one foot to another.
"I really can't…I should get back to Addy…" she says hesitantly.
I scoff. "Don't be ridiculous. We just got here. You said so yourself you didn't want her to see you like this. You're upset and soaking wet. At least warm up and get into some clean, dry clothes first." I force the clothes into her arms and lead her down the hall towards the bathroom. "You hungry?"
"No," she says softly, shaking her head. Her damp hair swirls and comes to rest on her flushed cheeks, and I have to resist the temptation to stroke her face softly.
Weird. I was never the touchy-feely type. Never thought that I would be, either. But being around Vanessa like this is doing weird things to my commitment-phobic heart.
But Vanessa doesn't notice. She just continues on to the bathroom like a zombie, completely zonked. I stand there until she shuts and locks the door.
Finally, I can take a moment to myself to breathe. But everything she told me is such a hard pill to swallow, I only manage to take small shallow breaths. It's unbearable to imagine her going through losing her sister and becoming a mother to her niece, not to mention all the hurt I caused, and she did it all alone.
I stride to the kitchen and think about grabbing a beer, then reconsider and pour myself a shot of orange juice instead. Tonight of all nights, I don't want to risk losing focus. I've made too many mistakes with Vanessa in the past as it is.
And whatever else happened tonight, she trusts me enough to let me look after her. A small corner of my cynical heart lights up with warmth, thinking of that.
I gulp down the juice and stride back to the bathroom to see if she needs anything. After a few moments of splashing, the door slips open just a crack.
As soon as she slips her wet clothes out the door, I grab them and throw them into the washer. Then I head into the kitchen to assess what food there is.
I jump to attention when she finally comes up. She emerges with wet hair tied up in a bun. My pants and boxers are baggy on her, but we're obviously far past the days of her forgoing pants and walking around in nothing but my t-shirt. I understand that now. I fucked things up so bad…I don't expect to ever earn that kind of honor back. Hell, I don't deserve to.
Instead, I refocus my attention on her more immediate needs.
"I whipped together a soup," I tell her. "I'm not a good cook, as you well know, but I've perfected this recipe. Here, have a seat."
She grimaces wryly. "Really? Chicken soup for the soul?"
I shrug, laying the table. "I want you to feel comfortable here. Why shouldn't I take care of you for a bit?"
Her curly brown eyelashes flicker, as if she's surprised. There's a painful twist to her mouth as she replies.
"You shouldn't have. I told you I'm not hungry."
I ignore that. She's upset, and I know she's going to struggle showing her vulnerability around me.
"Right," I say nonchalantly. "Well…then let me get you something to drink. Water? Coffee?"
"Ashford, stop treating me like this," she huffs, folding her arms.
"Like what?" I don't meet her eyes.
"Like I'm some fragile thing you pity!" she barks. "I hate that."
"You're far from fragile, Vanessa. Crying and talking about how you feel doesn't make you weak."
She gives me a long, unbelieving look. I stare back indifferently. Finally, she gives in, folds her arms, and sighs.
"Vodka," she says. "I want vodka."
Barely concealing a grin, I hop to the freezer and pull out the bottle stashed there, quickly pouring out two glasses of it.
We take our drinks over to the fire and sit side by side on the large ottoman sitting in the middle of the room. Neither of us says anything for a long time. We just sit and stare at the dancing flames, lost in thought.
