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You should come clean first.
No. I need this with Carson.
Especially since Karen called earlier and I know my time is running out.
They are not pleased I’m not where I’m supposed to be. Mainly, at their house, keeping it clean, purchasing the items on their lists for their friends, wrapping them, and doing whatever else they ask of me without questioning their orders.
I’ve done that for years.
I no longer want to play their game.
Cinderella has left the building, never to return.
Their place was never my home.
They were never my family.
And I was never theirs.
I know that now. I finally see it.
I was merely a toy they picked up for their daughter.
A nuisance when my usefulness was over, but one they couldn’t give away.
Instead, I was pushed away.
Made to feel like an accessory.
Carson, and the Jenkins family, on the other hand, make me feel like a necessity.
Needed.
Wanted.
“I need you, Angel. I want you.” The very thing I’ve yearned to hear, said by the most important person in my world.
Thankfully, I think I’m his, too.
“You have me.” Truer words have never been spoken. “For as long as you want me.”
“Let’s start with forever.” Then he’s kissing me, pushing my robe off my shoulders, revealing what I’m wearing underneath. Or not wearing, to be specific. “Good thing I didn’t know you were naked under there before now. I wouldn’t have been coherent.”
“Bra and panties isn’t naked,” I remind him. I hadn’t come with the intention of being with him this way, it was more of a determination to tell him the truth after dealing with Karen. And yes, she is totally the modern meaning of that slang term.
She was probably born demanding to speak with the doctor’s supervisor.
“My imagination says otherwise.” Looking at me, as if waiting for permission, I nod and Carson eagerly divests me of my coverings. “You’re beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that because I’m naked.”
“I’m saying it because it’s you.”
“No one has ever seen me as you do,” I tell him as I follow his lead to get on the bed. I hope he knows I’m not talking in the physical sense, though that’s there in a manner of speaking, too. I mean emotionally. He sees to the heart of me.
Fitting considering he owns it.
He doesn’t respond, verbally. He does in other ways, though, and I really like how he chooses to communicate instead.
