Page 53 of Keeping My Girl

CHAPTER30

Nicholas

IWAKE UP the next morning alone. Selina is nowhere to be found in my room, and it almost seems like it was all a dream. But I specifically remember her making me shower before putting me to bed and curling up behind me. Feeling her arms around me made me feel so good…and loved. And after everything that happened, she somehow knew exactly what I needed.

Just then my door opens, and my dream girl walks in with a tray full of breakfast food. “Good morning,” she says, her soft, pink lips teased into a little grin. “I figured we could eat breakfast in your room.”

She sets the tray down at the foot of the bed and watches me carefully. She sets a glass of orange juice on the nightstand beside me, and I reach out and grab her hand. “Thank you for last night,” I tell her vehemently.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, playing it off before slowly pulling away and wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

“Yes, it is, Lina.”

“You would have done the same thing for me back then if you could have,” she says with a small shrug.

Her words hit me like a thousand bricks. Back then, when Constantine murdered that family in front of her. Oh fuck, no wonder she knew just what I needed. She went through the same fucking thing almost. Except she was all alone.

I throw the blankets off and curse when I realize I’m naked. Walking over to my dresser, I slip on a pair of boxer briefs and sweats before returning to the bed where she’s currently sitting.

She picks up a croissant and tears it apart with her delicate fingers as she eats it slowly. I stare at the food and a part of me wonders if I can even eat. After last night, I feel like my world has been turned upside down. We lost one of our best men, and those poor women…

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I feel Lina’s hand over mine, bringing me out of my torturous thoughts. And when I open my eyes, she’s staring at me with a worried expression on her face.

“Your mother talked to me this morning about last night,” she says softly. “None of what happened is your fault,” she tells me fervently.

Slowly, I nod my head, but I don’t know if I totally feel that way. I was leading the team, so technically everything that happens falls on me. None of us could have predicted that outcome, however. Not even Aldo detected the danger, and he’s usually on top of everything. He’s probably blaming himself even more than I am at this point.

“Here,” she says. I look down at the fresh croissant in her other hand as she waves it towards me. “Please eat.”

I take it and bite off a chunk before chewing and swallowing. After Lina finishes hers, I watch her stand and walk to one of the windows. She perches on the ledge and stares outside, closing her eyes now and then, and I wish I could crawl into her mind right now. I want to know all of her thoughts and feelings, her secrets. I desperately want to be able to figure her out.

I take a few swigs of orange juice and pick at the rest of the breakfast tray before giving up. I’m just not hungry, but I think I ate enough to pacify Lina. When I focus my attention back on her, she’s not at the window anymore, but instead looking at a small charcoal drawing in a frame on the wall. That was the first drawing I did after she was taken.

“Is this…me?” she questions.

I try to gauge her reaction before I answer, but she gives me absolutely nothing as she turns her head and blinks at me. “Yes,” I finally tell her.

“Do you have any more?” she asks.

Swallowing hard, I give her a nod.

“Show me.”

Standing, I walk out of the room. I hear her soft footfalls behind me, so I continue down the hall. I set up my studio in this wing years ago. It was my mother’s idea really. I think we both knew how therapeutic it was for me after Selina was taken.

I open the door and allow Selina to walk in first. I hear her small gasp and inwardly cringe. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t think I’m some sort of creep.

Walking in behind her, I try to imagine the room through her eyes.

Hundreds of sketches and charcoal drawings, even paintings of her face are scattered through the small space. Most of them are from when she was younger. Some of them are what I imagined she would look like as she grew older. She’s beautiful, but the paintings don’t hold a candle to the real thing. Lina is so much more stunning in real life.

“I tried to imagine what you would look like as you aged alongside of me,” I explain to her. My hand rubs the back of my neck nervously as I wait for her to say something…anything.

She takes her time, walking through the room and looking at each and every drawing and painting. Not all of them are of her face, though. No, some are of animals, landscapes, or ocean waves at sunset. “Nico, these are…incredible,” she finally says.

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