"I'm not a child," I whined.
"I didn't say you were. But you need to put a clean shirt on."
"I'm not wearing a bra." There I said it.
I felt the bed vibrate against me as his hands continued gripping my shirt. Was he laughing at me?
He was.
"Sweetheart, as much as I'd love to bury my head in between your tits, you have the lingering smell of vomit and sickness. Not to mention, you're almost unconscious. So just trust me and let me help you."
I surrendered and let him continue pulling my shirt off. I left my arms up while he put a new one over my head. "There, much better." I half-opened my eyes to see him smiling genuinely at me. Why was he being so nice to me? "Take these." He opened his palm with two white pills. I took them from him and put them in my mouth. I grabbed the glass he had waiting for me on the bedside table.
I felt his eyes on me, staring intently at me. I wasn't sure why, but I couldn't find it in me to say anything. I didn't want to break this moment. He was taking care of me and I couldn't understand why. "Lay back," he said. My body fell back to the bed and both comfort and relief rippled through me as I sunk into the mattress and pillow.
He pulled the covers over me and tucked me in, fluffing the comforter around me. "You need sleep, Mac." I nodded, closing my eyes tight again. I felt his lips against my forehead as they ended up staying a beat longer than necessary, but I couldn't help but love the feeling it gave me. Alex was back to being sweet Alex.
I had begun to doze off when I felt Alex come into bed behind me. I was too tired to say anything, so I let him pull me toward him as he wrapped an arm around me. He brought his hand up to my face and brushed the hair back off my shoulder as he whispered, "Goodnight, princess."
My body relaxed and molded into his. It felt nice to be held again. My body craved his touch even though I didn't want to. I couldn't. But with his body next to mine, and his steady breaths against the flesh of my neck, I couldn't help but enjoy it.
Just this one time, I told myself. I sunk deeper into him and fell asleep.
Chapter Eleven
I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. I felt better, my stomach a little queasy but not anywhere near as bad as before. I kicked the covers off and went to the bathroom, noticing Alex cleaned everything up already. You couldn't tell last night had even happened. And for some reason, my heart pounded painfully at the thought. I hated to admit how sleeping in Alex's arms was one of the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time.
When I reached for my phone, I saw William had left me an early morning voicemail. He said he'd be heading out late afternoon and would get in around ten p.m. I knew he'd climb into bed the second he arrived home, so we wouldn't be able to talk much until after work on Monday.
My stomach was growling for something, anything, but I wasn't sure if I could face Alex. He took care of me in all of my delusional state and was completely genuine. Why couldn't I get that Alex all the time?
After another ten minutes, I decided I couldn't take it. I needed to eat something and I needed coffee. I made my way out to an entirely quiet house. Relief flooded through me when I walked into the kitchen and it was clear.
Thank god.
I wasn't sure I could face him after last night. I was embarrassed, but even more because I let him lay with me until I fell asleep.
I turned the coffee maker on and began rummaging through the fridge. I pulled out a carton of eggs, sliced cheese, and milk. I set everything down on the counter and slammed the door, shrieking when Alex's face appeared from behind the door.
"Hungry?" he asked smugly, a smile playing on his lips.
"Jesus!" I gasped, bringing a hand to my chest and pounding heart. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry." He grinned, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Sure you are." I turned and grabbed the frying pan, trying to ignore his presence, but I knew it was going to be impossible.
"Here, let me." He came around me and took the carton of eggs.
"I can make my own breakfast."
"I'm sure you can. I'm just offering to help."
I stood back and watched him. His face was relaxed, and it was then I realized he was fully dressed for the day already. I started to feel bad, knowing he was probably up all night with me, and he had somewhere to be today.
"It must be exhausting," I murmured, not really caring if he heard me or not. I found a bowl and set it in front of him.
He began cracking the eggs into the bowl and then asked, "What must be exhausting?"
I walked over to the bread bin and starting taking slices out as I casually answered, "Having multiple personalities."
I turned and saw his chest rise and fall. He was chuckling, but barely making any sound. "I don't have multiple personalities. That'd be your area of specialty."
I set out four slices of bread and wrapped the bag back up before putting it away. "Why are you nice to me one second and an asshole the next?" I asked bluntly.
We worked in synchronization as we battled back and forth. He whipped the eggs as I peeled the sliced cheese and threw them into the bowl of eggs.
"I'm not an asshole, Mac," he said softly, almost as if it hurt to say the words. I dropped it, deciding I didn't want to have this conversation. It'd go nowhere, and I'd just walk out pissed and frustrated.
He handed me the bowl of eggs so I could pour the milk in. Scrambled eggs were my favorite, and I always made them with milk and cheese. Without me telling him, he seemed to know exactly how I liked them.
I handed the bowl back to him and turned on the burner. I told him where the cooking spray was, and he sprayed the pan as I put the bread in the toaster. We worked like this until two plates were filled with eggs and toast, and we sat together at the breakfast bar, not saying a word until my plate was almost finished.
"You remember, don't you?" he asked, breaking the silence. I didn't have to ask what he meant.
I knew.
"No." I continued staring down at my plate.
"Yes, you do. You can feel it. The energy between us. You feel what I'm trying to fight for and now you're trying to fight against it."
"No. Yes … I mean … I remember some."
"Is that why you won't even look at me?"
I sighed and dropped my fork, turning to look at him. "What do you want me to say, Alex? I already told you it was a huge mistake."
"You only say that because you think that's how you're supposed to feel. So tell me why we can't stay away from each other. Why do we connect better than I've ever connected with anyone in my life?"
"Well, because we're being forced to live in the same house, Alex."
"That's just an excuse, Mac. If you truly couldn't stand me, you'd go stay at a hotel or a friend's house. You'd find any reason to get out of this house."
"Well, I prefer being home. So sue me."
"Stop making excuses," he demanded, his voice low and rough.
"I'm not."
It remained silent until he spoke up again. "So the only thing I've been able to dig up about your childhood was that you weren't brought up from money. Care to elaborate?" he asked, forking his pile of eggs but keeping his head low.
We didn't make eye contact, and I felt relief knowing we could talk without having to do so.
"There's not much to say. I didn't grow up rich."
"What's that mean? Middle class?"
I laugh-snorted. "Not even close."
He turned his body to look at me, but I kept my eyes down. "Then tell me."
"Why do you care?"
"Because it's part of the get-to-know-you-better task my father has put me up to." I could see him smirking out of the corner of my eye. Bastard.
"I'm sure he meant on a more casual level," I retorted, stabbing another piece of egg much harder than necessary.
"We're beyond casual, Mac. C'mon, just tell me. I'm interested."
I sighed as my shoulders slumped. He wasn't going to let this go.
"I didn't grow up with a dad," I started. "We didn't have a lot of money. Sometimes none at all." I continued eating, trying to remain unaffected. I hated talking about my childhood, and even William only knew bits and pieces.
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened. We were just poor. My mom couldn't keep a job. She wasn't mentally stable. So we'd moved from state to state trying to survive."
"Did you stay with family then? While you moved around?"
Ha … what family?
"No." I swallowed. "No family."
He went silent, his lips formed into a tense line. "So then what did you do, Mac?"
"It's in the past, Alex. I'd rather not talk about it."
He grabbed my arm and pulled me so I'd to face him. I could see fear and anger in his face, his eyes fierce and hooded. "Tell me what you did then, Mac," he demanded.