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“Look at it this way. You’re weeding out the weak. Any real man wouldn’t be scared off by your ex.”
“It’s just hard because I know Cole loved me the best way he could. Sure, he cheated, but I think he truly meant it when he said he loved me.”
That bothered me deeply. “I’m sorry, Goldie.”
“For what?”
“You thinking that’s love.”
“What is love then?”
“I don’t know what it is,” I confessed, “but I know what it’s not.”
She yawned again.
She was exhausted.
I took the bottle from her hands and stood. “Bedtime.”
She kept yawning. “Okay, Mr. Black.” She held a hand toward me and I grabbed it, pulling her to her feet. I walked her to my bedroom.
“Do you want pajamas?” I asked.
She nodded. “Please.”
I grabbed a pair of my sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt that she’d swim in. She headed into my bathroom and changed as I turned down the comforter on my bed for her to climb into. When she emerged from the bathroom, I almost audibly gasped at the sight of her in my clothing. I even thought about what it would be like to take said clothing off her.
Those thoughts didn’t belong anywhere near me.
She walked over to the bed and climbed into it. “Thank you, Alex.”
“Welcome,” I said as I pulled the comforter over her body.
I tucked her in.
I. Tucked. Her. In.
What was I doing?
She smiled as she snuggled against the pillow, wrapping her arms around it and hugging it. “My wish was that you’d be nice to me tomorrow like you were to me today,” she whispered.
“Your wish is my command.”
Her eyes sparkled as a few tears fell from her eyes once more. This time, the tears seemed happier. That girl felt everything. Things I hadn’t felt in years. She felt deep emotions when I felt empty. It was remarkable to witness—someone who could cry both happy tears and sad and be completely complex and real. I hadn’t seen such realness in a person in a long time.
“Good night, Goldie.”
“Good night, Mr. Black.”
CHAPTER 17
Yara
I stirred a little in my bed with my eyes shut tightly, due to the pounding taking place in my head. Gosh. I felt awful. As memories of the previous night came flooding back to me, that unpleasant feeling didn’t fade. That was until I reached the memories of Alex.
I pushed myself to a sitting position on the mattress.
Alex!
My eyes opened and I realized I was in his bedroom, beneath his sheets, sitting in his life. Oh gosh. I’d probably made a blabbering fool of myself the night prior. I bet he couldn’t wait for me to get out of his hair.
I dragged myself from his bed and pulled myself to the bathroom attached to said bedroom. The moment I glanced in the mirror, I almost audibly gasped at the level of hot mess staring back at me. Raccoon eyes, smeared lipstick, and my curls all tangled with one another.
I cupped my hand over my mouth, blew in it, and almost gagged from the stench of my own breath.
“Oh my gosh,” I muttered, turning on his sink faucet. I washed my hands, then added Alex’s toothpaste to my finger and began aggressively brushing my teeth with the finger toothbrush. I gurgled his mouthwash, spat it out, and then washed my face, removing all evidence of my tarnished makeup from the night before.
Though I feared Alex probably saw me at my worst over the past few hours.
As I walked out of the bathroom, I glanced up to see Alex standing in his doorframe with a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He arched an eyebrow. “Hey, good morning. Or, well, afternoon.”
“It’s afternoon?” I breathed out.
“Twelve thirty, yes.”
How had I slept so long?
I walked over to him and took the medicine and water bottle from his grip. “Thanks.” I tossed the pills into my mouth, took a swig of water, and swallowed. “For…everything.”
He smiled.
He smiled! Like on purpose. At me.
“Not a problem,” he replied. “I headed to the restaurant earlier and got your purse for you. I also cooked you up a few things if you’re hungry. It’s staying warm in the oven.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You cooked for me?”
“I cooked for you.”
“Why?”
He grew slightly timid and shrugged his left shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe. His voice dropped a few octaves, and his lips turned up once again. “Your wish is my command.”
My eyelash wish. He was being nice to me because of my drunken wish I’d made.
Glimmer.
He led me to the dining room and served me a plate with food. All the food. Hash browns, homemade cinnamon rolls, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Scones! He’d made me scones.
“Would you like orange juice?” he asked.
“Uh, yes. I always want orange juice. And water, please,” I requested as I sat comfortably at the head of his table.
