Page 39 of Mad Love

16

Blaise

Iwake up drenched in sweat and my mouth sandpaper dry.

I throw off the covers, ditch my tank top and sleep shorts, and wrap the satin sheet around my nakedness. Covering my yawn, I pad to the kitchen and wet my mouth with a glass of water. The blinking lights from the city skyline call to me, and I curl up in the overstuffed chair and stare at the view.

I can understand now why Maddox loves San Francisco. The city is lively and bright. It would be difficult to feel lonely here when there is so much to do and so much to see. Then how come I can’t get rid of the ache in my chest? Why do I feel more alive at my cabin surrounded by the sounds of wildlife and the bubbling of the small creek in the back?

I rest my head on the chair. Why did I challenge Maddox when he demanded the truth for the reason I kept my grandfather’s death from him? Why didn’t I tell him how much danger I am in? Isn’t that what married couples do, they talk and work through problems together? Except our marriage isn’t conventional. It’s a business deal. And the way he treated me earlier confirms that what we have is all business and no pleasure.

Had it been a different woman he found in his pool, he would proposition and make her feel good too. I’m by no means special. It’s not me he wanted, per se. Any woman would do. Or he is intrigued by my peculiarity enough to indulge my “requests.” God, I’m a fool for hoping he would see me for me. That I’m a woman and not a freak.

The ache in my chest not going away, I press my face into the satin. My throat burns with unshed tears. I’m right. Forever-after isn’t in my future. Forever-after is for someone normal. Normal is whatever woman is with Maddox, wrapped in his arms.

“Blaise?”

Speak of the devil. I raise my head. He’s shirtless and his PJ bottoms hang low on his hips. His dark hair is a tousled mess.

“Uh, hi, Maddox. I didn’t think you were home.” I start to rise from the chair.

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t leave. Let’s talk.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Exactly. Not sleeping well, baby?”

Baby. I smile, though I shouldn’t be pleased he’s back to calling me baby rather than darling.

“I have nightmares,” I admit.

“About your kidnapping?”

“Yes.”

“Can I make you tea? My sis likes to drink tea on the hot side when she has trouble sleeping.”

“Tea is good. Thank you.” I again rise from the seat.

In a soft voice, he tells me to leave everything to him. “Let me take care of you, Blaise. Will you do that?”

Is this his olive branch for the outburst earlier?

“Okay, sure. Thank you.”

With his back to me as he makes our teas, I take the chance to study my husband’s state of half-nakedness. His shoulders are wide. His back is stacks upon stacks of muscles. Tapered waist. Long legs. He turns, and with two mugs in his hands, he walks over and sets our teas on the coasters that are on the windowsill.

“Ah, so that’s why they’re there.”

“A gift for my sis.”

Each coaster is in the shape of a heart. One is blood red and the other a royal blue. “They’re beautiful. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s how I get her to visit. I bribe her with gifts and tea.”

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