Page 33 of Good Girl Gone Bad

“Did your brother ever tell you if he remembers any episodes, any events prior to you being born? Mental illness doesn’t happen overnight.”

She watched his back muscles tensed temporarily, and she squeezed him tighter for a moment, hoping her silent act of encouragement would keep him talking. “It doesn’t. She was a brilliant woman, I hear. She married at eighteen and got pregnant soon after. She had a somewhat erratic behavior, but my father, being older, assumed it was an age thing. When I came along, she found herself with a toddler and a baby, and it was too much for her to handle.”

She drifted her hand down to his shoulders for a moment and traced an invisible pattern on his flesh. “Didn’t she have help?”

“Yes, but my father played dumb at first. He didn’t want to admit she had problems until the situation spun out of control.”

“It was probably hard for him to see her that way,” she said, by no means justifying his actions. “When my father was diagnosed with cancer, my mom took it pretty hard. They were happily married, and she knew he wouldn’t make it for a long time,” she said.

“I’m sorry. Sounds like you were very close to him.”

“I was. He was a straight shooter, but also protective of me,” she said, finding it difficult to continue speaking without a strained voice.

Closing her eyes, she willed away the sadness lurking under the surface. Maybe her father wouldn’t approve of her recent decisions, but he still would want her to live her life and not succumb to melancholy every time she remembered him. Happy memories. Think about happy memories. “Every birthday he gave me a bouquet of lilies. That was our thing. One night, I went out on a date and came home way before my curfew. I didn’t say anything, but he could see in my eyes I’d been crying. I felt embarrassed. My mother was working until late that Saturday in the beauty shop.” She grabbed a small decorative glass bowl and turned on the tap to pour some water and remove the shampoo from his hair. Then she added some minty conditioner and continued to massage his head.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The next day, I woke up and there was a vase filled with lilies on my nightstand. He must have left at night or early in the morning to buy those for me. It was his quiet way of cheering me up, saying he was there for me.”

“No wonder you have a great head on your shoulders.”

She could laugh at the irony—she’d agreed to screw him for a month for very wrong reasons. Since when did that make her remarkable in any way? She pursed her lips, deciding to keep the mood light. “Does this feel all right?” she asked, deepening the pressure on his scalp.

“Hmmm.”

She took that as a yes. “Maybe after this crazy month is over, you can visit me at the shop once in a while. You know, to make sure your hair is being washed properly,” she said, and a second later, bit her lower lip so hard, she swore she tasted blood. Idiot, idiot. She opened her mouth to take it all back, but only managed to let out a groan filled with regret. Shit.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sweat broke on her forehead, and it had nothing to do with the warm water or the proximity to his body. “Forget it; that was a bad idea.” In her unadventurous and somewhat limited love life, she’d never really asked guys out or imposed relationship rules. She’d been happy to play along if the men were good guys who cared about her. And now, for some reason, the idea of parting from Marco upset her, made her frustrated and sad, and at the same time—

“No,” she said out loud.

He turned around until he faced her, his hair still mussed from her hands. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I was thinking if I had DVRed Game of Thrones, and I realized I forgot to do it,” she said, waving it off.

He flashed her a smile, but there was a flicker of regret in his eyes. She wondered what it meant, but he shook his head, maybe willing intrusive thoughts away. He cupped her cheeks, making her stare at him. “You’re adorable, Lily Jenkins.”

“Are you being condescending?”

“No. I mean it. I don’t think I can visit you at work, though, because one day I’ll see you and you’ll be with a boyfriend. A man who deserves you. A man who will bring you lilies.”

Why can’t you bring me lilies?The thought stabbed at her before she could shake it off. She hated herself for the strand of disappointment in her chest. “And you say that just like that?”

“I want to see you happy.”

“What about you? What would make you happy?”

His jaw clenched, a silent warning he really didn’t enjoy talking about the future—his or hers. “Happiness for me isn’t the same it is for most people. I…haven’t been given lilies, so I don’t know where to start. I like to know what to expect from people. I like to be in control, even if I miss out on other things. That’s how I operate.”

She made an effort to keep a neutral expression so he wouldn’t pick up on the nugget of frustration. “That sucks.”

He lifted his hand and caressed her cheek. His touch was like a miraculous cream on a wound. “It does. That’s why I’m focusing on what’s bringing me joy right now…and that’s you,” he said hoarsely. A warm expression washed over his face, the heat of his gaze burning her flesh. “You’re vibrant, real, honest.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she opened her mouth but hesitated. Why did he have this delicious quality of making her feel so unique? And why, even with all those compliments he gave her, did he still believe they couldn’t have a future? A real one?

He pulled her to him, and she sat on him, her legs to his sides. “Come here. It’s been far too long since I was last inside you.”

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