Page 50 of Mayfair Madame
“I’m good.” I took her hand, although I couldn’t be sure. Why now? Why did these memories come flooding back when I was in a good place?
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Ellie rubbed my back, easing the tension.
“I’m not sure what happened. One minute I was asleep. The next I woke up in a sweat.”
“You were shouting. That’s what woke me.”
“Fuck. What did I say?” I had an idea. This wouldn’t be the first time it’d happened.
“Something like ‘you can’t keep me locked in here’. I didn’t catch all of it. You were thrashing around too.”
“Did I hit you?” That also wouldn’t be the first time.
“No, you didn’t. Let me get you some water.”
She hopped off the bed, throwing a concerned look over her shoulder.
The room was in semi-darkness. The clock on the nightstand said seven thirty-two. We’d slept for a long time.
Still naked, she walked back in with two glasses of water, completely at ease with her nudity.
“Here, drink this.” She sat on the edge of the bed and handed me the water. “Do you feel okay?”
“Much better.” I smiled and tried to put her worry to bed, but in truth, I was shaken by the nightmare. I always was.
She glanced over at the clock. “I should really make a move. I have work tomorrow.”
“Can’t you stay a little longer? I could order in some food.” We’d barely eaten anything today, except for our breakfast earlier. My stomach growled at the thought. “Please, Ellie.”
She worried her lip, and for a moment, I thought she’d say no.
“I can stay for a while longer, and I could eat. I am quite hungry.”
Where the hell had I left my phone?
“What do you fancy? There’s a great Chinese nearby that delivers, or we could get pizza. Better than the chain restaurants. This has an amazing crust, and the tomato sauce is to die for.”
“Pizza sounds good.”
“Are you sure? We can order anything you want.” I walked into the bathroom and found my phone lying on a pile of clothes. Ellie’s still-damp clothes lay crumpled on the floor.
“It’s good, honestly.”
“We need to sort you something to go home in. You can’t wear those.” The clothes would need a good wash. I’d probably throw them away.
She came up behind me and placed her warm hand on my waist. “Damnit, they were my favourite Converse.”
“They’ll dry out.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure I want them anymore.” She picked them up. Dirt covered them. “I might throw them out.”
“What do you want on your pizza?” I scrolled through the app and ordered my usual: Italian sausage, peppers, and mushrooms.
“I’ll have a small pepperoni.” She gathered up her clothes and wrinkled her nose.
“They only do large. Anything else on it?”
“You’ll probably hate me for this, but could I have pineapple?”
