Page 63 of Mayfair Madame
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I kissed the side of her head, damp with perspiration.
“Not now, but I will. I told you I would, but not tonight. I’m so tired. Episodes like this take it out of me. But how are you? God, Ellie. Youcertainly didn’t need this tonight.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m feeling better than I’ve felt in days. I don’t know what was in the soup, but it definitely did the trick.”
“You’re just saying that so I don’t feel bad, but I do. I’m fucking stupid for allowing that entitled bastard to get to me.”
“He sexually assaulted you, and I’m still not sure why you dropped the case against him. I get it was a mutual thing, but something must have happened for you to do that. Wankers like him don’t back down that easily.”
“No, they don’t.” We both yawned. Perhaps tonight wasn’t the right time to get into this.
“We should get some sleep, and you can tell me tomorrow.”
“Hmmm, yeah, tomorrow,” she said, her words slurred. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, and she slept.
If only I could say the same. I’d spent so much time asleep over the last few days, I was wide awake. And at this time of the morning, it was never good.
My insecurities always took hold, especially after splitting with Kate. I’d messaged her a few times, then deleted them, not wanting to come across as needy.
The early hours were not my friend.
This time, my thoughts mainly centred around how I came to be here, in the bed of the most wonderful woman I’d ever met.
If someone had told ten-year-old Ellie, she would have laughed in anyone’s face. Yet here I was. Plain old Ellie.
It would end. Naomi would see I wasn’t really worth the effort after all, that someone else, Melinda maybe, could offer her what she wanted.
I was no catch. I wasn’t feminine. I didn’t like frills, loathed pink, and was more comfortable in jeans, a T-shirt, and trainers. Kate had been the one to wear the dresses and skirts, but I never wanted to be labelled as the ‘man’ of the relationship.
I kept my hair long and wore makeup. Naomi’s night out being a case in point, but no doubt that was how people would view us. Naomi had the sexy curves, the striking looks. What did I bring to the table?
Why did I beat myself up like this? Why couldn’t I accept the truth for what it was? The little I knew of Naomi, she was a woman of integrity. An honest person, and I knew deep down she’d not be here if she didn’t want to be.
Enough was enough.
Time to take back my life. Time to stop wallowing. Time to step up and make something of myself.
Chapter Eighteen
Naomi
“Good morning. I brought you coffee.”
Ellie sat on the bed in a vest top and shorts, looking a hundred times better than she had yesterday.
“Wow, someone’s looking good today.” I scrambled to sit up and tucked the sheet around me. Not that she’d not seen everything I had, but it seemed right somehow.
“I feel much better, although still not one hundred per cent. The soup worked wonders, and probably the antibiotics as well.”
I took the mug from her and sipped. Just how I liked it. Unspoken words hung between us. She was going to ask about the nightmares, and she had every right to ask.
“Look,” I said. “About last night.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She smiled, but how could she not be curious?
“I don’t. You’re right, but you should know what happened with Godfrey. It wasn’t the first time I’d been assaulted. In my line of work, there’s always the danger that it could happen.”
She took my hand, her eyes full of understanding.
