Page 38 of Always Been You
“I’m glad you thought of me,” I reply, my tone soft.
She nods, and I lead her to the couch. She hesitates for a second, then sits, her fingers brushing over the fabric as though grounding herself. Her eyes roam the room, curious yet cautious, taking everything in.
“You like it here?” I ask, watching her closely.
She glances at me, then back at the walls, her gaze lingering on the painting above the fireplace.
“Did you paint that?” she asks, pointing to the hibiscus flower painting hanging on the wall. I shake my head.
“It looks like something you’d paint,” she says, pausing for a moment before adding, “It’s beautiful.”
I don’t respond, letting the quiet settle between us as I move to the kitchen to prepare her some gin tea. When I return, I hand it to her and sit across from her, grabbing a throw pillow to cover… well, the painfully growing erection reaction I’m not particularly proud of at the moment. She doesn’t seem to notice, too distracted by her thoughts.
“So,” I say after she takes a sip and starts to calm down. “What’s going on?”
She finally opens up, telling me about the flood and the chaos at her place. I listen quietly, and when she’s finished, I lean back and say, “You can stay here. In my bedroom.”
“No!” she exclaims, her voice sharp with surprise. I chuckle, raising my hands. “Relax. I wouldn’t be in there with you unless you want me to be.” Her face flushes, and I suppress a grin.
“It’s just that my guest room is a mess, and no other room is ready for you to stay in.”
“I’ll take the couch,” she says firmly.
Now that makes me laugh. Lawliss, who has lived like a princess most of her life, wants to sleep on my couch. Sure, it’s comfortable, but still.
“I’ve slept on couches before, Ed. Don’t insult me,” she says, her tone daring me to argue. I raise my hands again in surrender. “Not on my watch,” I say. “Come on. Let me show you around.” She stands and follows me.
She steps inside the bedroom and stops cold. I know the look—wide-eyed, her lips parting slightly like she’s trying to take it all in at once. It’s the same expression people give when they think they’ve walked into something otherworldly.
Her eyes twinkle—a mix of amusement and surprise that has me shifting on my feet. I can’t help the flutter in my stomach when I ask, “What?” I try to sound neutral, but even I hear the curiosity in my voice.
“You kept bits of your old personality,” she says, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Now I’m intrigued.
“What does that mean?” She steps further into the room, her fingers brushing the edge of the pristine white dresser, her gaze sweeping over the neatly made bed, the white sheets tucked tight like I’m expecting an inspection.
“Well…” she starts, dragging out the word as if organizing her thoughts. “… when we met in Florida, you had these rough edges around you but you still felt like the Eddie I knew.” She tilts her head to look at me, a teasing glint in her eyes. “But since you returned to Louisville, there’s this dark aura about you. You try to tame it around me, but I can still feel it. It’s like you’ve changed, just like I have. There’s a wall you’ve built, and even though you try to hide it, it’s there. But this—” she gestures around the bedroom, “this tells me something else.”
“What exactly does it tell you?” I cross my arms and lean against the door frame, masking how much her words have me pinned.
Her lips curve upward. “ The Edmund I knew—the one who claimed black was his favorite color but secretly wore white more often than he’d care to admit—is still here somewhere. Under all that… mystery.”
“Black is my favorite color,” I say automatically. She ignores me entirely, dropping onto the bed with a sigh. She bounces once, testing the mattress, and smirks up at me.
“The white suits you, though. It always has,” she teases, stretching her arms overhead like she owns the place. The movement pulls at her blouse, and I look away before I start wishing for a repeat of what happened in my office.
“Make yourself at home while I deal with the plumbing issue,” I say, pushing off the door frame.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice quieter this time, almost sincere. I nod and slip out, my pulse quicker than it should be. Entering the living room, I pull my phone out and call Josh. The line rings twice before he picks up.
“Find me a plumber,” I say, cutting straight to the point.
“Already breaking things, boss?” Josh snickers on the other end.
“Don’t start. And make sure he takes his time. I mean it—delays, excuses, whatever it takes.”
Josh laughs like he’s in on some joke. “Oh, so this is one of those jobs. I get it. I’ll make the guy crawl there if you want.”
“Just handle it.” I hang up and toss the phone onto the couch, running a hand through my hair. The plumbing’s a problem, sure, but it’s also a gift. Lawliss is here, and I don’t want her leaving just yet. For once, I’m not overthinking how wrong or right that is.
