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I flash back to the heavy makeup I applied yesterday. I feel the thick mascara clumping my eyelashes. “How do I look?” I lighten my tone.
“Like a drowned raccoon.” His voice remains dry. “I’m waiting for the rat to crawl out of the nest it made in your hair.”
I scoff. “You could have just said hungover.”
“You know I call it like I see it.”
“You don’t look top notch either.” Which is a lie. He's shirtless, wearing gray sweatpants, and has perfectly messy sleep hair. His muscular chest is right near my face, andyeppp, I’m trying and failing to be discreet about giving attention to his V-cut abs.
I rub my hands over my face to shake this feeling. “I need pills and a shower.” I fall back onto the feather pillow and shut my eyes. “My God, this bed is heaven.”
“Darling, you have no idea.” I feel his weight leave the bed and notice the sunlight disappear.
I ignore the subliminal message and open my eyes to him hovering over me. The smell of fresh, woodsy shower gel is too alluring. “Why does your room look like a cabin?”
“Sit up and tell me if the view is familiar.” He lends a helping hand.
“The fishing lake,” I state, mostly to myself, as I look out the window at the beautiful lake and dock where I first met his father.
“I moved here last year when my father’s second heart attack sent him to my mother.” His words are an ice bath, and my stomach sinks, triggered by the feeling of death.
“Shit.” It falls through my lips before I can stop it. I feel the burn from my bulging eyes, and I can’t blink. It was almost too much to bear watching the hurt Ian endured taking care of his father after the first. They showcased a beautiful bond between a parent and child. One I had longed for. They went from doing things together, to Ian going solo or tending to his father’s needs. “I’m so sorry.”
“We miss him, but he had spent years missing my mother. When she died, so did part of him.” Nodding, I focus on the pain in my head so my deeper hurt doesn’t surface. “Living downtown in Beechwood was getting too busy for me. My sister and niece stayed in our childhood house, and I moved out here.” Ian points toward the obvious bathroom. “There’s medicine in the bathroom next to a clean towel for you. I’ll make breakfast.”
I sigh and swing my legs out of bed. “Thank you,” I say, before making my way to the rustic bathroom.
Ian was so close to his father; I can’t even imagine the pain he’s in. My relationship was nowhere near what he and his father had as I entered the teenage years with my parents. Yet, he moved into the cabin, reminded of his father’s absence daily.
With the cotton towel around me, I feel a tad bit revitalized. Grabbing my tank top, I glare down at my restricting jeans. There is no way I can squeeze into those when a comfy pair of Ian’s sweats are within reach. I roll down the waistband multiple times to find a suitable length and enter the kitchen. Pausing, I avert my gaze. Does he have to flip pancakes shirtless, as if he has a crew snapping photos for Calvin Klein?
“It smells amazing.” I clear my throat, noticing his piercing eyes scan me up and down. “These looked comfier than my jeans.”
“You were pretty cute in just my shirt earlier.” He winks, bringing the mug to his lips.
“Don’t make this any more awkward, Ian.” He’s enjoying this too much.
“I’m not being awkward. You’re just unsure of what happened last night.” My jaw tightens, along with my gut, as I’m worried about what I might have said or done.
“Enlighten me, then.”
“Not so fast.” His eyes hold mine, as if I have hidden answers. “I’ll bring up topics that drunk you brought to my attention, and the sober Emery can answer.”
“I don’t play games.” I tear off a piece of pancake, thrown off guard by the fluffiest texture. “I couldn’t have cooked these any better.”
“Maybe we need a cookoff to see who really deserves that Michelin Star.” He taps my hand as I reach for another. “I’ll get the plates.”
“So...” I take a seat at the breakfast bar. “What did the drunk Emery blabber about last night?”
“Well, she seems to have done a 180 when it comes to guys.”
“Really now?” I spin around on the breakfast bar chair for dramatic effect. “How so?”
“The sweet, cautious Emery is gone.” He eyes me carefully.
“Hmm,” I muse for my own entertainment. “Did she say why?”
“Nope. Just how life is easier without strings attached.” His eyes meet mine, and somehow my heart feels his pain. “Which confused me. You’re well aware that I have been there too. At the end of it, it’s not any easier, Daisy Girl.”
