AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I look at Cece and tears well up in my eyes. Whatever it is he wants it can’t be good. My gaze wanders to the bathroom cabinet, remembering last night when he took the scissors. I wonder if he has taken more of what’s in there. When Cece was a baby she had colic and screamed and screamed and stayed up all night, so finally, when we still lived in Chicago, I got a prescription for her to make her sleep better along with something for her stomach. If I can make him sleep… or at least make him drowsy… My heart speeds up. A plan is slowly forming in my mind. It could work.
I rinse off the slick soap and groan when I realize I never brought clean clothes with me to the bathroom. I wipe myself dry, but I sweat profusely and the work is soon undone.
Cece cocks her head and looks at me from top to toe. “Momma bath?”
I laugh. It’s liberating. “Mommy’s finished the bath. I’m just really sweaty.”
She frowns, confused. I smile and pat her head, stroking the silky dark hair. She looks so much like him.
I don’t want to put on my old grisly clothes, my whole being protests at the thought, but I surely don’t want to walk through the main room with only a towel covering my naked body. I’m at a loss as to what to do, but finally I decide for the towel alternative, remembering he didn’t want me last night even when I offered myself. With a pounding heart, I open the door just a crack, peeking out. I don’t see anyone. When I push the door open a little more, it hits something soft. I widen my eyes when I find a pile of neatly folded clothes. Still not seeing him but unable to not smell the most fantastic scents of cooking emanating from the kitchen, I snatch the pile from the floor and bring it with me into the bathroom, hastily locking the door again. I shake my head and try to figure out the catch. What does he want from me? My skin has started to develop goosebumps and I quickly separate Cece’s clothes from mine, putting on jeans, a T-shirt, and a hooded sweater.
I’ll think later.
Christian
My shirt dried up fast, hanging over the fireplace. I’m dressed again, warm and dry, and revel in the fresh scents that stem from the bathroom. Steaming, humid air enriched with soap. It smells flowery, clean, innocent. It smells of normalcy. I like it. I sincerely hope she enjoys her bath and is in a better mood when she comes back out. I’m not used to being treated like something the cat dragged in, and especially not used to trying to show some fuckin’ patience meanwhile. I’ve been nothing but understanding and friendly, and still,still, she keeps up all the yelling and the hate-show. How do I find her trust again? How did Nate do it? How did he woo Sydney, a woman with such an intense dislike for our business, and make her his?
Of course he never tried to kill her.
A little part of me can’t help picturing what she looks like right now; her pale skin naked in the tub, hot and soft…
Christian! Get a grip.
My stomach aches at the thought and I clench my hands into tight fists. I just wish—I wish I could rewind time.
Fuck!
Fighting the tearing regret in my chest, I bury myself in the art of cooking something great out of nothing. She lives on preserves, frozen meat and bread, and the only things that are fresh are a couple of apples and a half-rotten pineapple that I can salvage small amounts from. I cook rice and make a sweet and sour sauce to go with a piece of chicken that I chop and fry with the pineapple pieces.
When she suddenly stands in the doorway, she takes my breath away with her naked, innocent beauty. Her face is clean, her hair still wet and combed back. A pair of thin jean-clad legs stick out beneath a much too large, hooded gray sweater. A pang of jealousy surges through my chest, wondering who that sweater once belonged to. She can’t possibly have bought it for herself. Some old lover? Someone she still cherishes the memory of?
“Well, look who honors me with her presence. Bath feel all right?”
She pulls shyly at the hem of the sweater. “It was… it felt great. Thanks for letting me.” She stutters slightly and I find myself thinking it’s cute.Cute? Russo, really?
“Whose giant hoodie? Either you grossly overestimated your own size, or you’re being a tad over sentimental and keeping the clothes of your old boyfriends.” I say it casually, as if I couldn’t care less, but my heart pounds a little too hard in my chest.
Her lips twist into a sneer. “It was my dad’s, Chris.”
I lift an eyebrow and turn back to the pots, my cheeks burning. “Gimme a hand with the plates and we’re set to eat in a sec,” I mutter.
I turn and hold up three plates for her. She is leaning against the door frame and seems to be studying me.
“See something you like?”
I can’t help the little smile when she scoffs and snatches the plates from my hands, disappearing out into the main room.
Cecilia eats happily, sticky rice ending up on every surface within three feet of her, brownish-red sauce covering her cheeks and even a spot on her nose. I’m very pleased. Kerry sulks and refuses to eat. I try to ignore it, but it’s becoming increasingly annoying.
“Kerry. Eat. It’s not poisoned and you look like a stick.”
She shrugs and chases a grain of rice across her plate with her fork.
“The Amazon who beat the shit out of me once… look at you now, you can barely stand on your own.”
“What do you care?” she sneers.
“You’re the mother of my child and you’re gonna fuckin’ do your job, Ker!”
