lingerie. At the very least.” He squeezed my shoulder.
I nodded, my throat too full of a huge lump to say anything else. This guy…he got me. In so many more ways than just one. I didn’t have to explain it in minute, excruciating detail. Just a few simple sentences and he was right there with me.
I moved over, set my wine on the nearby side table. I slapped my hands together, rubbed. “Let’s get cracking, hero. I want to cuddle and watch a sappy movie.”
He laughed as he added his snifter of dark amber liquid to the side table. “Then let’s get cracking.”
**
“You’re telling me you’ve actually worn this?” Ryker let the slinky fabric slide through his fingertips. “Out in public?”
I laughed, tossed another shirt into the DONATE pile. “Yeah. You once asked me how my flirt game was so strong. I’m a Grade A-1 flirter. But I never let it get far enough to be anything other than flirting.”
“But—” he held up the fabric that was just a hair longer than twenty-four inches. “But there’s nothing here. Fold it in half and it would make a great belt.” His eyes were wide as he shook it at me.
“So you’re saying you want me to donate it?”
He jerked it back to his chest. Growled at me. “No. I want you to put it on. But only for me. You can’t wear it out in public anymore.”
I grabbed up another shirt. Studied it. I was pretty sure I had this same shirt in a different color somewhere. I set it aside to try on again. Most of this stuff still had tags on it. I was also pretty sure I had at least a couple multiples floating around here. How I’d let myself become so wasteful, I wasn’t quite clear on. But I was going to move most of it out to better people.
The cloth Ryker had been playing with slapped me in the face. “Here. Go put that on.”
I grabbed it. Looked at my man like he was crazy. “Now?”
He nodded, an eager light in his eyes. “Please.”
I looked down at my rumpled state. Knew my hair and face were in dedicated frumpy, not leaving the house condition. “Can’t I show it to you later? I’ll make it worth your while to wait.” I sent him a smoky look through my eyelashes.
His expression wavered between disappointment and joy. He nodded. Went back to sorting through the suitcase at his feet.
I set the dress aside in the KEEP pile. I had the perfect shoes and makeup in mind. Now I just had to come up with the perfect scenario. I let that brew at the back of my mind as we trudged through the remainder of my stuff.
He held up another shirt. “Okay, I swear this shirt is either multiplying or you have three exact copies of it. Same color and everything.”
I looked at it. Felt my cheeks heat. “Yeah. I’m noticing that as well. Just put it in the to-go pile.” I tried to sneakily add the other shirt I’d kept to the pile as well.
“Another one?” he asked.
Dang it. I needed to work on my sneak game, apparently. “Looks like.” I tried to laugh it off. Felt tears push at the back of my throat, burn in my eyes.
Ryker was stomping through the sea of clothes and luggage. He scooped me up into his arms. “What’s all this?”
I did laugh this time. Laughed and cried. “Signs of my crazy! I have no fewer than six of the same exact shirt. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were the same shirt in different colors. That’s normal. But no. I have the exact same shirt. Did I buy them all at the same time? In one transaction? I can’t remember buying ninety percent of this shit, Ryker.” I covered my face with my hands, wept.
He walked us to his couch. Cuddled me closer. “Shh, cupcake. It’s fine. It might be a little overboard, but you’d just been released from prison. From abuse. From literal torture. I think compulsively buying clothes is one of the least crazy things you could have done.”
My tears turned into sobs. I shook my head. I’d thought I’d handled everything after escaping Ethan like a fucking champ. Minus some nightmares and emotional outbursts, I’d moved on. Lived my life on my own terms.
To have the knowledge of my failure slapped in my face like this? In front of Ryker? I felt like the world’s biggest fool