Page 121 of Parrish

“Newsflash, babe, I am a dick. The biggest they come.”

“No, you’re not.”

“How the fuck would you know?” he spats.

“I’m starting to remember things, Jack and what I don’t remember, I feel,” I argue. “Now, I’m going to go take that shower but not because you ordered me to but rather because if I stay here another second, I can’t guarantee I won’t smack you,” I hiss.

Bas clears his throat uncomfortably and Jack, well, the bastard smirks at me.

“You’re incorrigible,” I sneer, shoving his chest as I brush past him.

“Like that heat you’re throwing, Reina,” he calls from behind me. “Like it better when you’re giving it to me in the bedroom, behind closed doors. Maybe while you’re up there, you’ll remember that.”

Bracing one hand on the banister, I draw in a deep breath, deciding it’s better to let him have the last word.

For now.

Upstairs I find our bedroom easily and the anger that consumed me only seconds ago disappears as I’m hit with an onslaught of emotions. Being here, in our room, staring at our bed, I can feel the presence of us.

The times we’ve fought and the times we’ve loved—they all come rushing back to me.

I can see us twisting in those rumpled sheets.

His eyes on mine as he impales himself deep inside of me.

Laying my head on his chest as he plays with my hair.

It’s here, within these four walls that the memories are locked tight.

Here, where love lives.

Where nothing can touch us.

Where we are safe.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks as I start for the bed. I’ve laid in this bed and cried. I’ve drenched these pillows in tears every time he put that leather vest on and walked out the door. But as much as I’ve cried, I’ve smiled too.

Like the mornings I’ve woken up and found those dark eyes on me.

Like the nights we laid in bed watching television, eating cherry pie.

He would devour ninety percent of the pie but always left the last piece for me and when it was down to the final bite, I’d scoop it onto my finger and watch him suck all that sweetness right from my fingertips.

But the nights I smiled the most were the nights when he didn’t allow himself to be weighed down by his club when he laid in a state of rest. There was something so fulfilling knowing he was at peace and that I got to witness something so rare.

Something so beautiful.

Jack was right. For as much ugly as we’ve endured, we’ve been blessed with ten times the amount of beautiful.

Lifting my head, I run my hand over the soft sheets and my eyes lock on the bathroom door. Like a magnet drawn to an electric current, I rise from the bed and let my feet carry me towards the door. My hand closes over the knob and I slowly turn it, stepping into another vault that harbors pieces of our story.

I flick on the light and make my way inside. My fingers graze the marble countertop and a smile ticks the corners of my lips as I take in all the clutter, most of which is mine and none of which is out of place. Knowing he hasn’t moved any of my things, that he’s left everything just as I did, tugs at my heart and makes it feel so incredibly full.

Spying a bottle of his cologne, I lift it from the counter and spray my wrist.

God, I love that scent.

Almost as much as I love the man who wears it.

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