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“’Not possible.” I sink back, giving in to my heavy lids. I want to keep them open, want to witness this new, tender side to him, but my body won’t obey my brain’s demands.
Still, more words slip from my stupid mouth. “You’re the only person who lets me feel safe.”
If I was sober, I know I would believe I’d said too much, but the fact that I’ve uttered such haunting truth doesn’t register in my addled brain. Nor does the concern in his voice as he leans over me.
“What do you mean?”
I’m smart enough to clamp my mouth shut, refusing to answer. Instead, I turn over onto my side, taking a deep breath until the room steadies again. Nausea begins to creep around my belly. “Hate being drunk.”
“Madison… why wouldn’t you feel safe?” His hand presses between my shoulders, his gaze burning into my spine, but I can’t give him the answers he wants.
Even now, I’ve locked them too far away to ever retrieve them. He can’t know about the mistakes I’ve made.
Nobody can.
Before he can ask again, I sink into oblivion.
CHAPTER17
Roman
o o o
Iwake with my foot dangling over the edge of the bed. When I turn over, trying to figure out how I almost rolled out of a king-size, I find Madison sprawled over both sides like a starfish, her blonde hair tangled and hiding her face.
Right.
Leo’s going to have one hungover nanny today.
I was irritated by her carelessness at first, but it was difficult to stay mad at that pouty, silly version of Madison I met last night. Mostly, I was concerned. After all the care she’s put into her job, it felt odd that she’d go out drinking on a weeknight and come back so hammered she doesn’t even know where she left her keys.
And that thing she said. You’re the only person who lets me feel safe. As though she feels afraid in the presence of everyone else. What was that? Is it something to do with her ex?
Anger shudders through me as I prop myself up onto an elbow, brushing the hair from her face to examine her. Mascara has smudged under her eyes, her lips lined with the last patches of red lipstick.
And yet, she’s still so beautiful.
And she’s in my bed.
A spark runs through me at the realization. I haven’t had anyone sleep in my bed for years, not since Leo’s mom. I’ve avoided it, unwilling to bring anyone into the home where my child sleeps, afraid doing so would only confuse him. I’m not ready to answer questions about his mom. I could do without the trigger for the sake of a few one-night stands.
Yet, here she is. I didn’t think twice about letting her sleep in here last night. In fact, I wanted her to. I wanted her somewhere close, somewhere where she could feel and be safe while she slept off her intoxication.
Sleeping beside her gave me the first — perhaps only — sense of peace I’ve ever felt.
As though she hears my loud, inescapable, slightly terrifying thoughts, she stirs with a groan. Her face crinkles with discomfort, a fairly predictable response to waking up after a night on the town.
I wait, suspended in time, as she finally flutters her lids open and meets my gaze.
“Morning, sunshine.” I paste on a cocky grin. I might not want to see her hurt, but getting my own back after she played that little jealousy stunt last night gives me a little joy. If she’s going to lie to make me jealous, I’ll respond by being an asshole. Since it’s in my DNA, it isn’t too hard.
“Time’s it?” She slurs in a way that makes me wonder if she’s still drunk.
I check the analog clock on my nightstand, where my alarm is set to go off any minute. “Six forty-five.”
She lets out another elongated groan and drags the duvet over her head. “How did I get here?” her muffled voice asks.
I stifle a laugh. “You left your keys here last night. I thought it better to leave you here, where I could be sure you weren’t about to choke on your own vomit.”
