Page 56 of Tear Me to Pieces
At least in all the ways I’m aware of.
Unfortunately, even after sharing my bed for nearly a week, Simon hasn’t come close to fully sealing this deal between us. And I’ve been too chicken to ask for it.
That’s likely why I haven’t been given the opportunity to take on that monster of his. I appreciate that consent and enthusiastic participation is a non-negotiable for him, but it makes things tricky when you don’t really know how to ask for what you want.
When you’ve been taught that asking makes you bad.
I make a show of looking over everything he’s done, taking in the pretty pale blue paint we picked out, and the slightly elevated design of the crown molding. “It all flows together perfectly.” I turn to the man beside me—the one I’m starting to realize might have a little bit of a praise kink he’d likely never admit to. “I’m surprised Christian doesn’t try to get you to come work with him when you’re home visiting.”
My compliment has the desired effect, and Simon’s shoulders push back just the tiniest bit. “He knows there’s no way in hell I would ever work for him.”
I laugh as I step a little closer. Normally by Saturday evening, I’m exhausted from working all week. Knowing I have someone to come home to—even if it’s just for a little while—has really taken the edge off that a surprising amount. “Then I am extra appreciative you’re willing to do all this work for me.”
Simon’s expression is soft as he looks down at me. One hand comes up to smooth back my work-frizzed hair. “I will do anything you ask me to, My.”
I pinch my lower lip between my teeth, hoping he really means that. Because what I want from him is a big ask. I know that.
To be fair, what he wants from me might be even bigger. And while an actual relationship with Simon was terrifying to me when he first proposed it, I’m starting to come around to the idea. But coming around to the idea and genuinely being able to open up and trust another person enough to be together are two totally different things. And I’m scared I’ve been through too much to be able to let that happen.
Closing the last bit of space between us, I wrap my arms around Simon’s waist, resting my cheek against the center of his chest. It’s weird that he’s sort of the one stressing me out, but also the one I go to for comfort when worry and fear starts making me spiral. I can’t explain why it happens, just that it does.
“Thank you for working so hard to get all of this finished.” It’s important to me that Simon understands how much I appreciate him, because I know that hasn’t been the case for him throughout most of his life. I also know what it’s like to do so much and get so little, and I never want him to feel like things are unbalanced between us.
Even though I’m pretty sure they are, and the bing of my oven timer proves it.
I lean my head back, peering up at him. “You don’t have to make dinner every night.”
Simon gives me a grin. “You’ve been around me enough to know patience isn’t high on my list of qualities. I have zero interest in waiting for some stranger to bring me food when I’m starving.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to the center of my forehead. “I’m going to take a quick shower, and then we can eat.”
“You’re a stubborn man, you know that?” I unwind my arms from his body, missing his warmth as I step back. “But you’realso a really good cook, so I don’t hate your stubbornness as much as I should.”
Again, my sneaky compliment lands exactly how I hope it will, and Simon’s chin lifts. “Good. You’re going to have to learn to live with it, because I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” Simon backs down the hall toward the entryway. “Give me five minutes.” He turns when he reaches the stairs, disappearing from view as his heavy footsteps echo through my house.
I’ve spent the past six months living in near silence, and I thought having someone else here would be jarring. But I didn’t realize how lonely I was feeling until I was no longer alone.
During my marriage, being by myself was the goal. I looked for any opportunity I could find to get away from Matthias and the demands he was constantly putting on me.
But being alone when there’s someone like Simon who could be keeping me company is way less appealing.
Since I want Simon to enjoy our time together as much as I do—agree to my end of this bargain we’ve made—I go to the kitchen to figure out what he’s made for dinner and what I can do to finish getting it ready. Opening the oven, I discover a casserole dish filled with something that looks an awful lot like enchiladas. They’re bubbly and cheesy and they smell so freaking delicious, my stomach growls the whole time I’m assembling the toppings I find in the fridge. Again, Simon made a trip to the grocery store while I was at work this week, so I dig out the container of sour cream, a leafy bunch of cilantro, and a container of fresh salsa. After chopping up the cilantro, I pull the lid off the salsa and fish out a bag of tortilla chips.
I’m just pouring him a tall glass of the sweet tea I’ve discovered he loves, when Simon rushes into the room. His dark eyes scan the spread I’ve laid out and he immediately angles a brow my way. “I was going to do all that.”
I give him a sweet smile. “And now you don’t have to.” I pick up his plate and scoop out a healthy serving of beef-filled tortillas and sauce. “You worked really hard today. The least I can do is put the finishing touches on the dinner you also made.”
Simon’s lips flatten out, but I don’t miss the hint of a smile that tries to sneak in before he stops it. He’s an acts-of-service guy—anyone with eyes could see that. I’m not sure what I am, but I’m definitely not a person who would ever take advantage of someone they care about.
After piling up his enchiladas, I sprinkle on some cilantro, add a dollop of sour cream, and hand the plate over. I go through the same process for my own serving, then round the island to slide onto one of the stools Simon claims Christian removed from a house he’d been hired to demo. They look suspiciously unused, so I’m not convinced he’s telling the truth, but Simon’s done so much for me that it felt asshole-ish to argue over something so trivial.
Especially since I still want more from him. And a baby is a bigmore.
Like usual, Simon waits for me to take the first bite, his dark eyes watching my reaction as I scoop in a mouthful of deliciousness. I don’t have to fake or embellish my reaction at all. I never do when it comes to the meals he makes for us. “This is so freaking good.”
“Better than ordering?” Simon is still watching me, like it makes him happy to witness my enjoyment.
“Way better.” I work on severing another bite with the side of my fork. “I just feel bad that you’re working on my house all dayandgoing to the groceryandmaking dinner.”
That’s the most frustrating part about all of this. Simon has only really asked me for one thing, and it’s the one thing I’m not sure I can give him. I’ve tried to find other avenues to return all the favors he’s doing me, but I keep coming up empty.
