Page 111 of Pink Ink

Kimi nods solemnly. “He doesn’t look like a man who knows where the clit is.”

My recent attack comes back as a very rude reminder when my entire body screams as I choke back a laugh. “Stop it. Please. It hurts to breathe. He’s a nice person.”

“Personality doesn’t make you come. It’s why we all knew Shaw’s hands could work magic.”

I cover my face with a pillow and groan.“Stooop.”I can’t be imagining his fingers when I’m trying to figure out whether we actually have a future together.

I want to talk to someone—anyone—about the full extent of my problems. There are far too many legal issues with telling Kimi about Maddox’s extracurricular activities, and I doubt she’d even begin to understand my lack of mortification toward his hobbies. If she knew about the engagement, she’d be researching what type of chemicals we’d need to make his body disappear.

“Fine, fine.” She holds up her hands in surrender, flashing the ruby ring Owen bought her the other day. “Just know that any man who gives methatcan get it.” She points at the painting I found in my room this morning, along with the confirmation letter that I’ve been granted extensions on my assignments for all my classes.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I stare at the portrait of me in a deep-maroon gown under the moonlight, surrounded by foliage. The painting was wrapped up and leaning against my closet door when I woke up this morning. Two realizations had hit me in that instant.

One, he snuck into my room without me knowing.

Two, I’m in too deep, because the first thing I felt was giddy, then embarrassed that I haven’t cleaned my room. At no point did it occur to me to be concerned for my safety or even remotely troubled that Maddox is breaking intomy bedroom.

I guess that’s why we’re compatible. Deep down, I’m a hopeless romantic, and so is he. Concerningly so.

But I’m worried that none of it will work out, or we’ll get in trouble, or I’m made a complete idiot for sticking around when he has a ring on his finger. I’m just… scared. Nothing is worse than the feeling of knowing you’re alone again.

Kimi’s phone lights up, and a deep divot forms between her brows as she reads the message. She buries her head into the blanket with a full-chested groan.

“I would die a happy woman if I never have to do another group assignment.”

I snort. “What happened?”

“Men happened,” she growls, muttering and cursing as she rolls back onto her feet. “They’re fucking useless. He had one job.One. Write the conclusion. But guess what?”

“He’s MIA or sick.”

“Both. I’m going to rip this man another one,” she yells over her shoulder as she storms out and practically slams her bedroom door behind her.

I chuckle and set the tray on the floor, then curl onto my side. The silence stretches until it grows claws and blocks out the sun. I stare at the other painting on the wall, beneath theSilence of the Lambsposter I thrifted. It’s hard to tell, but it’s meant to be of my father holding me as a baby.

Mom made it for my birthday the year before Dad died. She was upset that she didn’t get the warm, enthusiastic reception she was expecting for it. I was bitter and angry that my own father was never around, and hadn’t wished me a happy birthday. And I was resentful that she kept pushing me to love him because of “everything he’s done for me,” as if he were the one who put the stars in the sky.

She claimed he loved me. I believed it when I was a kid. As I got older, it became harder to.

Mom said he was the love of her life. Then her eyes would glaze over as she said that work was the love of his, even if he loved her too. That, I believed.

I didn’t shed a tear for him at his funeral. But in the dark of night, when no one was watching, and there was nothing to distract me, I’d cry for the man I never got to know, and the hole that a lifetime of his absence left.

Taking a deep breath, I glance at Maddox’s portrait again.

I pushed my dad away before I got to know him, and I regret it every day. I’m afraid I’ll regret never knowing Maddox or seeing where our relationship could go.

What if I’m destined to be like my mother: falling for a man who wouldn’t put me first? I don’t want a life where I’m constantly waiting for my soulmate to come home, sitting on the sidelines as I watch him live life without me.

If he wants to make this work, he needs to prove he’s as committed as he claims. That the strength of our relationship won’t be dictated by who’s watching.

My eyes fall to the laptop on the edge of my bedside table. I have videos from a stationery ad to edit, and no shortage of readings and assignments to work on—all things Nurse Kimi has banned me from doing.

She can’t get mad at me if she doesn’t know.

I fluff the pillows behind my back and set my laptop on the blankets, squeezing my eyes shut when the loading screen stares back at me. I really don’t want to have to pay for a new one. It finally turns on, and I click back into the legal case database I’ve been slowly reading through these past few weeks. Researching the connection between the insignia, Maddox, and Cresswell is the last thing I should be doing, especially when I’m meant to be resting or at the very least studying.

But I don’t open my editing software; I pull up my recent search in Westlaw with all of my filters and click onto the eleventh page of the results. I figured since Cresswell seems to be the common denominator in all my investigations, it was a good place to start. That was until thousands upon thousands of cases showed up.