I blink, dumbfounded that he knows so much. And then in realization that I know it all, too. That she told me as much that night at her house. And I was so angry, my pride was so wounded, that I didn’t hear anything but her telling me that I couldn’t handle the fire.
“Dude, I put that shit together. If you’d get your head out of her ass for long enough, you’d be sitting with her and not out here looking like you just woke up from a bad dream,” Tyson scolds me.
“I would?”
“Yeah, bonehead. Now, I’m going to go apologize to my sister,” he starts for the doors.
I get up and step in front of him. “No. Stay the fuck back. She’s mine. Mine. And I’ll take care of her. She said you don’t have to go home. I’d like to amend that - you don’t have to go home, but you gotta get the hell outta here.”
Then I run up the stairs and go get my girl.
I find her sitting on the floor of her bedroom, draped in a pink bathrobe, staring forlornly at herself in the mirror. Her eyes come to the door, and she glances up and sighs deeply when she sees me.
“Hey, you okay?”
“I hate you for making me feel like this,” she says, her voice dull.
I smile and take a tentative step into her bedroom.
“Would you rather we didn’t feel so good together?”
“Yes. Because, maybe then, I wouldn’t feel like Venus must have felt when Mars left her. Except, you didn’t leave. I sent you away.” She drops her face into her hands.
My heart is a shooting star; I walk over and sit next to her, cross legged, and face the mirror. Our eyes meet there, and damn, if I don’t want to kiss her. “Mars never left her, without her, he wouldn’t exist.”
She throws her head back and cries, “Oh God,” and then, suddenly, she grabs her side, as if in pain.
Her honey brown skin glows like she’s just spent thirty minutes standing face up in the shower. Her hair is wet and hangs in wet clumps down her back.
I lean forward and sniff.
She leans away. “What are you doing? Why are you smelling me?” She scrambles to her feet. “Why are you even here?” She asks, her speech slurred.
“Why are you wet?” I remark.
“Because I just showered, Einstein,” she says her chin tilting up and her eyes glaring, “You haven’t even said..." she pauses to burp, or hiccup. I can’t tell quite which it is.
She blushes prettily and I can’t do anything but smile.
She’s a fucking mess, but she’s my mess.
“Now, go away before I vomit on you,” She says and points an imperious finger at the door.
“You wouldn’t,” I laugh incredulously.
“I would,” she says grumpily. She tightens her little silk pink robe around herself. And everything it’s clinging to is everything I’ve been craving that she won’t let me have. I need to get to the bottom of this shit so we can start fucking again. I miss that body.
“Tell me why you’re angry with me,” I demand.
She bites her lip and shakes her head miserably. “I’m not angry with you. I told you to move on and you did. I just hate everything because I want you for myself.”
Her misery is palpable, but I’m not sorry to see it. In fact, her words are music to my ears. If she wants me then, we can do this.
“Regan, we’re two consenting, single adults. I’m not here to fuck you and run. I want to make an honest woman out of you. I have since I was ten years old. I just had to grow up so you wouldn’t go to jail for being a pedophile.”
“Don’t be gross,” she mutters, but a tiny smile lifts the corners of her mouth.
“I did it. I’m a man. I can make my own decisions. And live with the consequences of them.”
“But you love your job, you wanted it so much, if they fire you, you’ll hate me.” she moans.
“Hate to break it to you…but if that’s the reason you won’t be with me, I’ll hate that more. You don’t get to decide that my job is more important than you. And, I don’t give a shit what your ex-husband or my brother have to say about it. We have something special. When is the last time you slept as well as you did the nights we spent together? Have you had any conversations as good