Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
And then have a talk with Adam, after which he’ll then process how he feels about me having done this, too. Me doing this will change things. Absolutely.
Because he’ll either lose his attitude with me and we’ll move forward or… I already know I’m not about to put up with endlessly being ignored and neglected. I can’t let that be my life even if it makes me a bad person to give up on him. If I give up on Adam, it’d be because he gave up on us first. Because I’d like to think the Adam I fell for wouldn’t want me to live half a life. I know I wouldn’t want that for him. So, I’ve got to find a way to have a conversation that’s both logical and factual, as well as heart-to-heart. Heart to heart, brain to brain, to figure out if we have a future together.
I’ve had all the empathy in the world for what he’s going through, but the way things are these days can’t be our life together permanently.
It feels like dismissing me has become a habit and habits can be hard to break. I’m not going to let being treated like a doormat become my own habit. He seems happy around friends and family, but when it’s just the two of us, he’s not. And I won’t live like this indefinitely. It’ll suck the life and joy right out of me.
I’m feeling too much right now. And I didn’t want to start feeling things here. But I do feel a sudden clarity about my relationship that sort of frightens me. I’m feeling so much.
And it appears I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve right now – or would be if I weren’t naked – because Derek’s eyes are exploring my face like he’s trying to read my mind.
He reaches over and sifts his fingers through my hair with what feels like affection, the iciness thawing, and he says, “Hey, come back to me here. Those troubles can wait.”
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head.
He leans in and kisses me. It’s sweet, gentle. And it feels a little…inappropriate. Like I need to switch gears.
“I need the bathroom,” I announce. “Coffee would be appreciated. I’m not fussy about food. You don’t have to go to the trouble, but if you… uh… really want to, I’m game for whatever you wanna make.” I shrug and roll away from him, pulling a sheet with me that I wind around my body as I rise.
Oh… it’s the fitted sheet. We’ve totally un-made the bed and slept on the mattress cover.
“Little late for modesty, no?” he asks with a serious look on his face as I toy with the fitted corners.
The tension is broken by me giggling. He flashes a gorgeous grin at my laughter and I rush toward the bathroom embarrassed, but look over my shoulder as he laughs and my shoulder slams into the doorframe. He’s looking like a billion dollars lying there naked, on his side, watching me. But the smile falls off at seeing my klutziness.
“Careful,” he warns.
“Oops,” I quip and flash him a smile.
A hickey. He gave me a fucking hickey. I thought I stopped him in time, but nope. It’s faint, but it’s pretty obvious that’s what it is. And Derek seems like a mature adult so far, so I’m kind of surprised he pulled a teenager move like this.
It’s low on my neck and thanks to Alannah’s tutelage, I’m semi-pro with concealer, so I’ll deal. But I’m not happy about it because hiding it will feel like deception toward Adam and that’s not at all what I want.
There are purplish bruises on my hips where he gripped me, too. They don’t hurt, but they’re here, plain as day.
Shuffling out of the bathroom, I find my handbag on the floor under the bench at the foot of his bed, so I fish out a hair tie to throw my hair into a ponytail. Rifling through the bedding on the floor, though, I can’t find my clothes. All that’s here among the mess of the bedding is the shirt he wore last night, which doesn’t make sense because it got taken off by the door when we first came in and I could swear it was thrown out there.
I put his shirt on. It’s big on me so it’ll do for a modicum of modesty.
I resist the urge to make his bed, figuring he’ll probably change the sheets anyway. Or have a maid do it. We certainly did dirty them last night.
Besides, I don’t live here, and don’t need to be my hall pass’s maid the way I’m a live-in maid at home.
This thought vibrates in me for a brief moment, and I acknowledge it. Yeah, I have felt like a live-in maid lately. The townhome isn’t large, but I like my space to be clean and organized. I hate clutter. I have standards and I’m busy, so maybe it’s time to have someone in once a week for deep cleaning since it’s not like Adam can do all those things.