plans for our future together.
After a week of these early wake ups, I decide to do something about it.
I can’t take some sort of medication, something to take the edge off, because of my concussion but I can get up and do something productive.
I slip out of the bed the moment my eyes open and I have a shower, washing my hair and brushing my teeth until I’m as clean and presentable as I can possibly manage without makeup, a hairdryer, or clothes that aren’t sweatpants and sweatshirts.
When I leave the bathroom, Illi is sitting up in the bed with his phone. He has that frown on his face that means he’s doing work, negotiating with someone over a job or checking for any new information. I don’t know how much work he’s doing that isn’t the list he’s made for me and my vengeance. I don’t ask him these things, I only listen when he has things he needs to talk about. It doesn’t feel like the way my parents had interacted, or the way Louis kept secrets from me during our secret trysts. I know if I ever wanted to know something about his life or his work, he’d tell me. No matter what it was, he’d tell me. Our bond is unbreakable, full or respect and trust, and most of all I know that his love for me would move mountains. My love for him would do the same.
There’s some things I just don’t need to know.
He doesn’t want to put anything else on my plate and I want all of my focus on my recovery. I want to be whole and well for him. I want him to wake up every morning and to be in love with the woman I am.
He loved me at my worst and most broken.
I want to give him my best.
He glances over at where I’m paused in the doorway of the bathroom and his lips quirk upwards. “What’s going on in that brain of yours, baby girl? It’s early to be up and ready for painting, isn’t it?”
I smile and tug at the sweatshirt, plucking it away from my body. “I think I need women's clothing. I need to feel normal again. Do you think we could go try some on today? If you’re not busy.“
Mon Monstre nods and climbs out of the bed, walking over to cup my face in his hands and kissing me gently. “I’m never too busy for you, baby girl. You know that. Lemme grab a shower and then we can head out.”
I smile sweetly at him, and then kiss him once more gently. Half an hour later I have breakfast cooked while he pours me a coffee, taking it over to the table and setting us up to eat together. Once I have the eggs piled onto the toast he takes both of the plates to carry them over for me.
The care he shows for me is exquisite, all of the little things he does that together with his fierce, brutal protectiveness makes him the perfect man for me.
When we finally make it out of the house he keeps my hand tucked in his, guiding me carefully out to the BMW and helping me in like a gentleman. Once he’s in the driver’s seat and the car is out of the road he takes my hand again. I rub his hand with my thumb, tracing over the tattoos he has there.
I need to paint him again.
The moment I’ve finished the others, the ones that are pouring out of me like a wave of poison being expelled from my soul, I’m painting mon Monstre again.
His voice startles me out of my painting plans. “You better be thinking about me with that dreamy look in your eyes, baby girl.”
When I glance over at him he’s grinning at me, a little lopsided and a whole lot of self-satisfaction. “Always, mon Monstre. I’m always thinking of you. I think I’m going to fill the apartment with paintings of you and all of your tattoos.”
He pulls a face and I laugh at him. “Baby girl, that sounds like a nightmare. My ugly mug everywhere, I’ll be walking around with my eyes shut.”
I frown at him, reaching out to stroke his face with my hand. “I know nightmares well. This face is not one of them and you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I can’t help but want to paint you.”
He shrugs and turns the car