Page 33 of Judge Me Not

What am I doing with her?

She continues in an angrier tone, "So I could have been home? I could have come here and gotten ready and not been gone all day?" Her body shakes, and her heart beats harder.

Or maybe it's my heart.

"You don't like to shop? Or hang out at the spa?" I ask in disbelief.

"How often will I have to go for upkeep? Is there a way to get all my outfits at once so I don't have to spend my hours and multiple days shopping?"

"Upkeep? What are you talking about?"

"The spa. All the things you wanted them to do to me so I could look however you wanted me to."

"That's not—"

She holds her hands in my face. "Like these nails. It's an entire hour of my time. And during that time, I can't text or..." She turns away.

"You think I had you go to the spa because I wanted your appearance changed?"

She clenches her jaw. Her eyes are full of fire. "Didn't you?"

"No. You didn't enjoy it?"

"I had to keep my phone in my locker."

"So? It's good to turn it off every now and then. Forget about life and whatever the hell is going on."

Her lip quivers harder as well as her voice. "I don't have the luxury of forgetting about what is going on in life. If you would please let me know in the future what is a requirement and what is not, I would appreciate it." She turns her head, and a tear falls down her cheek.

I don't understand how I hurt her by sending her for a day at the spa. But something is tearing at her, and my protective instincts kick in. I pick her up and start walking toward the bedroom.

"What are you doing?"

"Shh." I sit on the bed.

She tries to get away from me, but I don't release her.

"Stay still for a minute."

She finally stops moving and keeps her head on my chest. I stroke her hair. "I sent you to the spa to relax. You were stressed out last night. I didn't mean to upset or insult you. I apologize. You don't have to go again if you don't want to."

She lifts her head. "That's why you sent me?"

"Yes. I told you, you're perfect as you are. I'm sorry if I insulted you."

She squeezes her eyes shut then looks down. "I'm sorry. I ummm..." She puts her hand over her face. Then she completely breaks down.

I sit up straighter and tighten my arms around her. "Shhh." I hardly know this woman. But my heart's cracking for her. Her entire body shakes, and her sobs become loud. My chest hair dampens with her tears.

I don't know what to do, so I keep holding her and saying, "It'll be okay," and, "Shhh."

From time to time, she says, "I'm sorry," and then more wails come out of her. When she finally slows to a whimper, she looks up. Shame and anguish are in her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed. I'm sorry. Please don't fire me."

"Shhh." I lean down and kiss her. It's quick and meant to comfort her, but damn if her lips aren't the sweetest things I've ever tasted.

She freezes, breathing harder, locking her gaze to mine.

The tension in the air builds. I don't move. If I do, I'm going to have her in all ways, and I don't want to take advantage of her.

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