Page 52 of Falling for Red
I wink, then stand, stepping toward the kitchen.
Silence lingers between us as I pull the chicken and vegetables from the oven. I glance back at her. Her underwear is back on. Her fingers are under the band, adjusting it against her hips.She’s so fucking sexy.
“A pleasure Dom is a first for me,” she says, ending my heated stare with her hips.
“We could’ve eaten naked,” I tease, watching her as she finishes dressing.
“Another time. When I haven’t been crying.”
Claire steps toward me. Her arms slip around my waist from behind. She hugs me, pressing herself into my back. That small act of affection hits me deep.
“Thank you for dealing with me,” she whispers.
I drop my hand, covering hers, and squeeze. “You’re worth it.” That’s not a line either. She is worth everything and deserves everything too.
She exhales a laugh. “Famous last words.” She gives me a squeeze before pulling away. “Sorry … I guess I should talk to you about all of the reasons why I am the way I am.”
I turn to face her, but she leans against the counter, keeping a small distance between us. I want to tell her she doesn’t owe me an explanation. That I’ll take her as she is, no conditions. But I also want to know more about what she was crying about.
“My mom and I haven’t talked in years, and I never plan on speaking with her again.”
“You said she was toxic. How so?”
She shakes her head a little. “The parallels between my mom and my ex—and all my exes—are there. I’ve done some therapy about it. Probably not enough, but I would categorize them all as narcissistic abuse.”
“Give me an example.” I don’t want to assume, and I’m grateful she is letting me in.
Claire huffs, then reaches for her plate. “This will be our super sexy dinner conversation.” Plates in hand, we sit at the dining room table. “My mom, my ex—everyone always had something to say about what I was eating, how much I was eating. I think they wanted me to play a part. The beautiful daughter. The hot wife. Instead of caring about whether I was actually healthy or happy.”
My jaw tightens, not liking these assholes. “Is it triggering when I talk about your body?”
“No.” She smiles softly. “You talk about it with care. And I know you’re not after some specific version of me. I mean, I’ve been in a ponytail or messy bun and baggy clothes nearly the entire time we’ve been hanging out. My ex would’ve told me to put something cuter on or whatever.”
I immediately want to tell her how fucking gorgeous she is at all times. Even now as she chews her food. “Can I ask why you cut your mom out?”
She nods, mindlessly spinning her fork. “It was just too much. The constant guilt-tripping, criticism, emotional manipulation … she was exhausting. When my ex and I started trying for a baby, I thought a lot about the kind of mom I wanted to be. I realized I didn’t want to force my child to have a relationship with someone toxic, and that was a big breakthrough. I set boundaries. She didn’t respect them. And now, I’m done.”
The strength it takes to do that—to walk away from someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally—I can’t imagine it. “You’re so strong.”
She gives a half-hearted shrug. “Ehh.”
“You are. Did you do something similar with your ex?”
She huffs a laugh. “Yeah. I was basically a married single mom. Living in a nice, little terrarium. My ex played with us when he wanted to, and when he didn’t, he wasn’t there. I set rules for how parenting needed to go, and he tried to gaslight me into thinking my expectations were unrealistic.” Her fingers tighten around her glass. “I wish I had left sooner.”
I want to hold her so badly. “Can I give you a hug?”
She exhales, a small smile playing at her lips. “After dinner.”
“You mentioned opening your marriage?”
“If you ever want a fast-track to divorce, open your failing relationship.” She cynically chuckles. “It only spotlights the existing problems.”
“Did you ever explore?”
“A stay-at-home mom with a baby? With what time?”
I shrug.
