Page 31 of I Almost Do

“I think from the first night.” She makes a bit of an apologetic face. “I’m a very light sleeper most of the time.”

“And you didn’t think maybe you should start locking your door or telling me to stay out?”

Her expression is shocked. “Of course not. Why would I do that? I told you the first night you found me awake that you’re welcome here.”

“How are you not freaked out?”

She shrugs. “When I was a kid, Dad had nightmares. I’d wake up sometimes in the middle of the night to him taking my pulse. I guess I didn’t see this as all that different.”

“What?”

“He had nightmares about me dying or something happening to me. He had a routine. Even though we have security here out the wazoo, every night, he had to check every door, lock, and alarm personally. And if he woke up with a nightmare, he couldn’t go back to sleep until he made sure I was okay. So he’d sit by my bed and take my pulse.”

I’d had no idea it was that bad. My chest aches at the thought of it. For Marcus, yes. But also for that little girl who felt her father’s emotional well-being was her responsibility.

“And how is this the same?”

“I assumed maybe you felt lonely or were grieving but didn’t want to talk. You always left when I was awake. I was trying to give you time to just… I don’t know… find some peace.”

“That thong is not giving me peace,” I say.

She mutters something under her breath.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘It wasn’t supposed to.’ Are you satisfied?”

I’m not. We have years to go before we consummate this marriage.

“I have to be at the Los Angeles office after Christmas. I’ll be there for a month.” I had no plans to say that. I’d had no plans todothat. But I can’t keep going like this. I need space and distance.

She jolts into a sitting position. “When do we leave?”

“Not we. Just me. I’ll be too busy for anything but work. We’ll FaceTime every day. If you need me anytime, day or night, you call. You should probably start back up at school next semester anyway.”

“I see.” Her expression is shuttered as she lies back down. She rolls on her side away from me and pulls the comforter up to her shoulders. Voice a higher pitch than usual, she says, “Can you turn off the bathroom light when you go, please? I’m tired.”

I hesitate. What I want is to crawl into that bed with her, hold her, and beg her to forgive me. Instead, I turn out the light and leave.

13

Good as Hell

Clarissa

“That dick-faced dickwad,” Bronwyn seethes, throwing herself against the back seat of the car with a huff.

I shoot a glance up toward the front, where my driver, Dean, sits behind the wheel. The privacy screen is up, thank goodness. “It’s not… he’s not….”

I want to say James isn’t a dick-faced dickwad. But that resentment that started bubbling up in me when I took vows with a man who made us write a stupid rule about not falling in love with each other has reached full boil.

What am I even doing here? I’m in love with my friend. And now he can't even stand to sleep in the same house with me.

Franki shoves her highlighted brown hair behind her ear, then reaches out and takes both my hands in hers. “You know I always look for the bright side.”

I nod glumly.

“The bright side here is that you do not have to stay there and suffer,” she says in her gentle bubblegum voice.

---