Page 8 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

CHAPTER FOUR

ASH

I’m surrounded by a bubble of Sam. Floating in duck down and his scent. It clings to the pillows, and I bury my nose in them while I breathe deeply. Couldn’t quite remember how good he smells, couldn’t quite forget the rich masculine fragrance that I equate with home. Maybe I’ve always smelled him, not in a creepy, obsessed stalker type way, but I like to believe it’s possible that I knew his scent while my mother carried me those seven and a half months. Like maybe I knew I would need him before I ever knew him. Maybe he comforted me even then. I squeeze one of the downy pillows around its middle and smile to myself. Sam always makes everything better. It doesn’t matter how badly I mess up, he always makes me feel better.

Crap, I told him that, didn’t I? I tried to get him to have sex with me, and he said no. The last forty-eight hours rush me. Everything from my drunken behavior to the abrupt influx of messages from guys. Dick pics and proposals that left me baffled until I found out about the video. Watching it the first time was an out of body experience. Seeing myself in that position. Watching what everyone else was seeing, as though I was a stranger. My smile slips, and I drag open one eye. The meeting with the HR officer. Crap. I’m jobless. Homeless. Shit.

I groan and roll onto my back. Crack open the other eye. Blah, sun. I slap my arm over my eyes to block out the light streaming in through the high arched windows. My skin itches and burns as I drag myself up and stumble out of his bed to the bathroom. I consider turning on the shower and curling up in the bottom with my mouth open to catch the drops, but opt for the sink instead. My mouth is dry and furry and gross. Faucet on, I stick my head under it and gulp down as much water as I can manage before I turn and rest my butt against the vanity, then slide down it and onto the cold floor.

Sam’s never put his foot down like he did last night. He’s always just fixed everything. Fixed my car, and fixed my fines. Fixed my body, and a myriad of other things. But I should have expected he wouldn’t be the same old Sam. My Sam. Not this time. After all, he told me I couldn’t come to him again the last time we ended things. It’s just I had to see him. I couldn’t destroy my life and not see the reason why. I couldn’t handle the world seeing my vagina without him in my corner.

I’ve really messed up this time. Sam’s done with me. And I have nowhere else to turn. I’ve lost everything. My job. My reputation. The one man I can depend on having my back.

***

“What are you doing down there?”

His voice startles me. I must have dozed off on the bathroom floor. The aroma of strong coffee hits me right across the bridge of my nose, waking me up like the magical elixir it is. He crouches in front of me, soft blue eyes taking in my state, before his lips twitch to one side—not in a snide manner, but the kind of gentle expression that he used to give me when he thought I was only a kid. Before I grew up and made that look change into something far hungrier.

He holds out the mug, the almost square handle in my direction. “Here.”

“Thanks,” I croak. The ceramic is hot in my hands, the liquid scalding as it touches my lips. Resting my eyes, I cradle the cup and lay my head against the cupboard. I don’t know how to face him when he still looks at me like he cares, despite telling me we aren’t those people anymore. Why did I behave like nothing had changed when everything has?

“Hey.” He puts his hand on my knee. “There’s a perfectly good bed in the other room. Why don’t you get off this cold floor and go back to sleep for a while?”

“I’m sorry about last night,” I burst out. “I’m sorry I asked you to fuck me.”

“Look at me,” he says.

Can’t bring myself to, can’t stop myself from screwing my eyes tighter shut. Wish I understood how I could make these mistakes. I thought Luca cared. I thought being with Sam would be like every other time.

He touches my chin with his fingertips, and I can’t bear the sensation. How can he be so nice to me when I’m such a total screw up?

“Open your eyes, Ash. Look at me.”

I don’t. Can’t. Because he’ll be kind and look at me like I’m better than I am. He’s a dependency I haven’t been able to kick. One look and I’ll be hungry for any affection he’ll throw my way.

“Fine,” he mutters under heavy breath. There’s a rustling as he finally moves to stand up.

Good. I need to be on my own. Need to work out how to extricate myself from this mess I’m in without his help.

The coffee cup gets taken from my hands, and then he lifts me into his arms. “If you want to behave like a child, I’ll treat you like a child.”

Honestly, it doesn’t even help that he’s mad at me. He can’t be angrier than I am at myself. The position I’m in is because of my own stupidity.

His gait as he crosses between rooms lulls me, his warm chest and strong arms are my safe harbor. Maybe I am being childish, but part of me wants to stay in his arms forever. Just like this.

The mattress bounces as he tosses me onto it. My head is still groggy and a little bit dizzy with the sudden movement. I open my eyes when he tucks the blanket under my chin.

He crosses his arms, taps a finger against the crook of his elbow while he flicks his gaze to the door and back to me. “I’m going to help you, Ash. I’m going to do what I can to sort this shit out, but I can’t help you if you won’t work with me.”

“What’s there to work out?” I roll onto my side away from him, stare at the naked windows. Three white birds sit on the outside sill, a gray pigeon flutters in to join them.

“We could get the video taken down for a starter.”

“Would it even matter? Everyone’s seen it.” I stick out my bottom lip.

“There are over seven billion people in the world, Ash,” he says, and I can tell by his tone he’s starting to get frustrated. “A handful of people have seen it. A few thousand. Not everyone.”

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