Page 88 of Lick
“You’ll let me inside you but you won’t let me hold your hand?” he whispered, his face sad in the dim glow of the passing cars and streetlights.
It was on the tip of my mouth to say that it had been an accident. That what had happened between us was wrong. But I couldn’t do it. I knew how much it would hurt him. We stared at each other as my mouth hung open, my brain useless.
“I missed you so fucking much,” he said. “You have no idea.”
“Don’t.”
His lips shut but he didn’t look away. I sat there caught by his gaze. He looked so different with his long hair gone, with the short beard. Familiar but unknown. It wasn’t a long trip home, though it seemed to take forever. The cab stopped outside the old block of flats, and the driver gave us an impatient look over his shoulder.
I pushed open the car door, ready to be gone but hesitating just the same. My foot hovered in thin air above the curb. “I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Hey,” he said, his arm stretching out across the back of the seat. His fingers reached toward me but fell short of making contact. “You’re going to see me again. Tomorrow.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, voice determined.
“I don’t know if it’ll make any difference.”
He lifted his chin, inhaling sharply. “I know I fucked us up, but I’m going to fix it. Just don’t make up your mind yet, all right? Give me that much.”
I gave him a brief nod and hurried inside on unsteady legs. Once I’d locked myself inside, the cab pulled away, its taillights fading to black through the frosted glass of the downstairs door.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I was running late for work. Rushing about like a mad thing trying to get ready. I ran into the bathroom, jumped in the shower. Gave my face a good scrub to get rid of the remnants of last night’s makeup. Gruesome, crusty stuff. It would serve me right if I got the pimple from hell. Last night had all been some bizarre dream. But this was real life. Work and school and friends. My plans for the future. Those were the things that were important. And if I just kept telling myself that, everything would be fine and dandy. Someday.
Ruby didn’t much mind what we wore at work beyond the official café T-shirt. Her roots were strongly alternative. She’d planned to be a poet but wound up inheriting her aunt’s coffee shop in the Pearl District. Urban development had upped property prices and Ruby became quite the well-to-do businesswoman. Now she wrote her poetry on the walls in the café. I don’t think you could find a better boss. But late was still late. Not good.
I’d stayed up worrying about what had happened with David in that alleyway. Reliving the moment where he told me he considered us still married. Sleep would have been far more beneficial. Pity my brain wouldn’t switch off.
I pulled on a black pencil skirt, the official café T-shirt, and a pair of flats. Done. Nothing was going to help the bruises beneath my eyes. People had pretty much gotten used to them on me lately. It took about half a stick of concealer to cover the bruise on my neck.
I roared out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, just in time to see Lauren waltz out of the kitchen, broad smile on her face. “You’re late for work.”
“That I am.”
I looped my handbag over my shoulder, grabbed my keys off the table, and got going. There wasn’t time for this. Not now. Quite possibly not ever. I couldn’t imagine her ever having a good enough reason for siding with David. Over the last month she’d spent many nights by my side, letting me talk myself hoarse about him when I needed to. Because eventually, it all had to come out. Daily I told her that I didn’t deserve her, and she’d smack a kiss on my cheek. Why betray me now? I thumped down the stairs with extra oomph.
“Ev, wait.” Lauren ran after me as I stormed down the front steps.
I turned on her, house keys held before me like a weapon. “You told him where I was.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Not tell him? You knew I didn’t want to see him.” I looked her over, noticing all sorts of things I didn’t want to. “Full hair and makeup at this hour? Really, Lauren? Were you expecting him to be here, perhaps?”
Her chin dipped as she had the good grace to look embarrassed at last. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I got carried away. But he’s here to make amends. I thought you might at least want to hear what he has to say.”
I shook my head, fury bubbling away inside me. “Not your call.”
“You’ve been miserable. What was I supposed to do?” She threw her arms sky-high. “He said that he’d come to make things right with you. I believe him.”
“Of course you do. He’s David Ferris, your very own teen idol.”
“No. If he wasn’t here to kiss your feet I’d have killed him. No matter who he is, he hurt you.” She seemed sincere, her mouth pinched and eyes huge. “I’m sorry about dressing up this morning. It won’t happen again.”
