Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,63
Willow?"
Shit, it must look bad. He only drops the nickname when things are really dire.
"Something insensitive I said. I'm sorry, Willow. I wasn't thinking, but there's no excuse." Ophelia pushes herself up. "I'll take my turn in the restroom."
Tom slides next to me on the bench seat. "What did she say?"
I shake my head. "Something about abusive relationships."
He frowns. "Why the fuck were you talking about that?"
I don't have an explanation that won't give this away. I don't want to lie. "It just came up."
He pulls me into a tight hug. "It's okay. No one is ever going to hurt you again."
With Tom's arms around me, I give myself a few moments to cry. Those memories don't sting as badly as I used to, but they still fucking hurt.
"Never," he whispers.
He's helped me overcome my past. I want to do the same, but not if it means losing him.
I tug at his t-shirt, pulling him closer.
Whatever happens, I can't lose Tom.
Ever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tom
Willow only eats half her omelet and one slice of toast. She drinks her coffee with timid sips. My wife is nearly as addicted to caffeine as I am.
That shit isn't like her.
There's no sense in prying with Mom. She's never spilled a secret in her life. But there's something real strange about the apologetic look on her face.
Ophelia isn't the kind of woman who apologizes for shit.
What did she say that upset Willow?
Neither of them shows any signs of confessing. Better to wait until Willow and I are alone. If it's serious—and it's fucking serious if she's crying at breakfast—she won't want to talk about it with an audience.
Our conversation is all small talk. Mostly Willow asking Ophelia about the woman she's dating. Ophelia plays nice about it, but it's pretty obvious she's describing a Vegas fling.
After we finish eating, we head to one of the indoor shopping areas. It's meant to look like some other place. There's a fake sky painted on the ceiling, bright blue with puffy white clouds. The shops are designed to look like a little town in Europe. Venice, I guess. The fake canal that intersects the shops gives that away.
Vegas is a weird fucking city. I enjoyed the hell out of it back when I spent my nights drinking, dancing, and taking a stranger or two home. But now it seems as hollow as the fake plastic trees lining the streets.
At least Willow is taken with the faux Venice shops. She looks up at the painted-on sky, her lips curling into a smile.
"It's like living in Los Angeles. The sky is blue every day." She slides her hand around my waist and looks up at me. "You don't like it?"
"It's fine." I shrug. Don't think I can like any place where she's hiding something from me.
Mom stays quiet, and she stays a few steps in front of us. She's up to something, but then it's not like she's gonna tell me. Better to accept that I'm in the dark.
She nods to one of the shops. It's a chain I've seen at other malls. The place sells upscale casual and business casual women's clothing. Mom used to drag us to the mall and make us wait during her shopping expeditions.
Pete and I were such miserable little fucks. I don't know why she took us anywhere.
He was quiet, but I complained every other step. She never bent to it. Not once.
She's not gonna tell me shit, no matter how much I beg.
I pull Willow closer. "You want to go in?"
"Not really my style." She moves closer, looking up at me, those hazel eyes of her filled with uncertainty. "Unless you think I need a shift dress."
"I think you need no dress." I slide my hands to her ass. "No panties. No bra. Could keep going."
"To what?"
"No coat. No socks. No tights."
"Just shoes?"
I smile. "Yeah. Just shoes."
"You want me naked except for my Keds?"
I nod.
"Not heels or something?"
"You wear your Keds. I'll wear my Converse. It will be kinky canvas shoe shit."
"That's a thing?"
"We'll make it a thing."
She smiles back, but it can't hide the frustration in her eyes.
"Fuck. Whatever Mom said, I'm sorry." I run my fingers through her hair until a sigh escapes her lips. Damn, I love the way she sighs with pleasure. I need more of it. Need it louder. Need to feel how much she's mine.
Her voice is low, a whisper. "I'm not thinking about that anymore."