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He opened the red wine, then sat the cork opener on her dresser, and took a swing of wine at the bottle. “Can I trust you?”
She shrugged. Where was he going with this? “As much as you’d trust any other fake wife. Why?”
“My mom. I don’t talk about her often.”
He’d hardly ever mentioned his mother. She knew she lived in France, and she’d been ill in the past, but that was about it. They never talked much about personal stuff, so she’d refrained from delving deep into these topics. “What about her?”
He rubbed his temple, then sat down on the edge of her bed. “That was her nurse who called from France. She calls me to give me updates,” he said, and she detected a note of exhaustion in his voice. “I’m planning a trip to check on her.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, nodding, hoping to encourage him to keep talking.
He looked away from her, and took another drink of the wine. “She’s been sick for a while. She gets confused, and times and dates and people are jumbled in her mind… most of the time.” He fixed his gaze on the wall, and even though he sat on a bed holding a bottle of wine, everything about his posture spoke of discomfort. The way his shoulders stiffened in his shirt, stretching the fabric. The vein in his neck, jumping.
God, this hadn’t been about her at all. He hadn’t flunked on her because he’d been out with someone new, or to play with her feelings.
She stood and walked to him, then sat next to him. “Oh… I’m so sorry.” She touched his elbow, and he finally looked at her again, like he’d been lost in thought.
“Thanks. My mom is the only family I have left. But I feel like I lost her a long time ago.”
She took the wine bottle from his hand and had a taste. The red contents streamed down her throat leaving a rich, complex tang with a dry finish. “My grandma had dementia… it was hard on us. I can’t even imagine how you feel about your mom,” she said, remembering her sweet grandma Caroline, and how she’d treasured the moments they spent together. And wished they’d lasted longer. Much longer.
“A little lost.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t say that again,” he said, a ghost of smile dancing on his lips. “Instead, tell me something about you.”
She worried her lower lip. What could she possibly tell him that would equal losing one’s parent, little by little? Not completely having them at all, a dark part of her whispered. Her chest tightened for a moment, and she wondered if she should share this with him. Then, before she lost courage she said, “I felt lost for the majority of my childhood. A bit out of place.”
He grabbed the wine bottle from her and took a sip. “Why?”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My mom got pregnant with me to use my stem cells since my older sister, Shelby, back then a 6-year-old, had cancer. For a long time I felt like I was the second choice. Like I didn’t belong, you know?” she said, the ache hitting her again as she spilled those words out loud.
He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze that energized all of her being. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”
“I’m grateful I’ve always had Poppy and Billie, though. We always counted on each other,” she said, smiling to herself. She couldn’t compare her childhood to his. Even though she felt out of place, she knew her parents had loved her. Did they love her as much as Shelby, or did they show it as much? No. But they cared for her, and cared for her wellbeing. “Do you have any cousins?” she asked, willing to make the conversation about him again. She also managed to disengage her hands from his, because the heat radiating from the touch distracted her in a way that was anything but helpful.
He glanced down at his hands. “A few distant ones, but nothing like the bond you share with yours. I’m glad you’ve had your cousins. Feeling like you don’t belong is the worst. That’s how I feel with my father,” he said, then when her eyes caught his, she spotted a hint of surprise in his expression, like he himself hadn’t meant to share so much. The wound from his father’s not being there for him was still painfully fresh.
“You two have a lot of years to catch up on.” Years that she hoped would treat and heal the wounds both of them carried.
“That we do,” he said, then sighed and studied her face. His gaze traveled from her eyes to her mouth and then cheeks, slowly and languidly like a caress. “Wait. Why were you crying? When I came in. Did you get bad news? Have I missed something?”
“Oh, that…” She cleared her throat. A current of embarrassment swept through her. She could lie, but they’d share so much honesty, she couldn’t taint the exchange by trying to save face. Too late for that, anyway. “I’m an idiot. I assumed you changed your mind and simply ghosted me, and I was pissed at you.”
“What? No. I have my faults, but I’d never disappear without a word.”
“Thanks.” She put the wine bottle on the floor and then sat straighter on the bed. “… I asked Poppy to do my makeup. She’s great with that stuff… and then I removed it. But I swear I looked really hot earlier. And not just like a drunk raccoon.”
He touched her cheek, then his hand outlined the area she was sure was still smudged with the remains from makeup. “I never knew raccoons were this sexy.”
She played coy and looked away, but when her eyes met his again, an intense need coiled at the pit of her stomach. Damn it… He hooked his finger under her chin, lifting it, and the gleam of desire in his eyes only grew stronger. She wanted this man, and worse than that, she needed him.
She’d confided in him the way she’d never confided in a man before. He’d already seen her naked, even if she still had her clothes on. She’d bared her soul to him. And apparently… he’d done the same to her.
Could she trust him? She touched his chest, and the rapid beating of his heart gave her the answer she was looking for. How could she not? Maybe it was the wine, or the way the night unfolded… but this, being with him, felt right.
He dipped his head and lowered his lips to hers, arresting her in a kiss that overpowered any ghost of a doubt. Empowered, she circled her arms around his head, and soon, he pulled her into his lap. A bubble of warmth sucked them in, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
