Page 9 of Surrender
She pulls her hand up in front of her chest, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip as she looks down at the floor. Her thumb strokes the inside of her ring finger that shows a faint tan line. “We’re not together anymore. It’s kind of new,” she adds with a sad look on her face.
Silence falls over us. I should say something. Something respectful. Something proper. Something meaningful. Something to cheer her up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”Or something painfully generic.
“Yeah, thanks.” She gazes up at me, her eyes squinting with question. “I suppose that’s the proper response, right?”
“I guess so?” I respond with a question because I’m not sure what she’s getting at.
She looks around the room, searching for her answer. “I should be sorry. I should be concerned. I should be sad, right?” She looks back at me for my response.
I can only shrug. She looks sad enough to me. Although, perhaps sad isn’t exactly the look I see in her red-rimmed eyes. Morelost. “I think you should feel how you want to feel,” I reply sternly.
“That’s the thing, though!” she peals, her eyes wide and anxious. “I don’t know how I want to feel. My marriage is over and I don’t know how I should feel. I thought about it the entire drive over here, and it’s making me crazy that I don’t just know.” She tugs nervously on a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from her ponytail. “Can you tell me how to feel? Please?”
“No,” I state quickly, taking a step back. If I tell her how I want her to feel, it’s happy. Turned on. Liberated. I’d tell her to feel fucking euphoric to be free to do whatever she wants with whomever she wants. But telling her that would only serve me, not her. “It’s your life. A life I’m just learning about. So it’s certainly not my place to tell you your feelings. They should just…come naturally.”
“Well, they’re not.” Her tone is exasperated. She looks like she’s going to lose it again.
“They have to be there,” I retort, stepping closer to her, loathing the lost look in her eyes. “Fuck, I’m an unfeeling prick nine times out of ten, but even I’d have some sort of reaction to not being with the person I loved anymore.”
“That’s the thing!” she exclaims, her voice rising in pitch. “I don’t think I love him! I was just existing with him! So now that I’ve told you that, how do you think I should feel?”
This is the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever had, and that’s saying a lot because my brothers have spoken to me for hours about the size of their balls. But in all the visions I’ve had of Sloan and her husband, I never considered her not even loving him.
Swallowing hard, I reply, “Try saying the first thing that comes to your mind. I’ve split with my husband and I feel…”
“Out of control!” she exclaims, her eyes wide and watery. She moves closer to me, an urgency causing her hands to shake in front of her body. “I feel like I’ve been out of control through the entirety of my marriage and getting divorced doesn’t change a damn thing. He will still have all the power, and I’ll still have zero control of my own damn life.”
“That can’t be true,” I argue. “You won’t be with him anymore. That’s the ultimate freedom. And you have an incredible business you’ve built. You work for some of the wealthiest people in England.”
“He pushed me into this job! And those people just tell me what to do!” she replies with a laugh I don’t entirely trust.
“They ask for your opinion,” I scoff. “You tell them what to wear.”
She smiles, but it looks like it hurts. “I’m a glorified order-filler. I shop and make thoughtful selections, then they send me back to get them something else. You’re my only client who wears what I tell you to wear. Why is that, Gareth?”
She steps even closer to me and grips the sides of my arms with her long, delicate fingers. I flex in response because her hands on me normally feel strong and reassured. But with the crazy look on her face, I’m not sure how to feel right now. “I don’t know. I guess I just tr-trust you,” I falter.
“You’re the only one.” She sniffles and swallows down a lump in her throat while staring at my chest. “You’re the only one who listens.”
She presses her forehead to my chest and her body trembles against mine. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her. One hand cups her neck while the other wraps around the small of her back. We’ve never embraced like this, but she fits perfectly beneath my chin and I can tell she needs this. I squeeze her tightly in a vain attempt to take her pain away. Then I envision punching her fucking husband for turning her into this out of control, emotionally tortured mess before me. Sloan deserves so much better.
“How can I fix this for you?” I ask, wanting to kiss the top of her head but holding back because I don’t know if she’d welcome the touch. “I fix things, so just name what you need.”
Her head lifts, her eyes rising to my face, zeroing in on my lips. My gaze falls to her mouth in response. Her lips are pink and wet and open just enough for me to see the tip of her tongue. A shift in the air has me pulling in a deep, cleansing breath. She looks tearful like before, but there’s a spark in her eyes that I’ve never seen. It’s electric. Mesmerising. Meaningful.
I can smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her breath against my whiskered jaw, and it’s doing things to me. Things I should probably put a stop to. She’s clearly not in a good place, but what’s happening right now isn’t voluntary.
“Why are you so kind to me, Gareth?” she asks my lips. Her voice is deep and different than I’ve ever heard. “I don’t have many friends out here, and you’re one of the only ones who’skind.”
My voice is like gravel when I reply, “I li-like you.”
Her gaze roves over my features, taking in every millimetre of my expression like she’s looking for a lie. It hurts to see her like this. Sloan is always so thoughtful and patient. So understanding. What kind of a sick bastard could make her doubt herself so much?
I would never make her feel this way. In fact, I would do literally anything to take away this pain she’s feeling. Seeing her falling apart feels dangerous, like she could break and disappear at any second.
I lean in toward her lips. The sugary scent wafting off of her makes my mouth water. I can practically taste the sweetness of her skin and we haven’t even touched yet. “Tell me what you want, Treacle.”
She sucks in a quick breath and tightens her grip on my biceps. “What does Treacle mean?”
