His Alone(28)

Me: If you're trying to bribe me with beer, it won't work.






 

 

Captain: They have hot dogs, too.



Damn it.



Me: Fine. You win.



Captain: Always do. See you after lunch. X



The kiss on the end of the text feels silly. But at the same time I reach out and touch it, like he actually sent a kiss. I put the phone down and then drop my face in my hands. This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm not supposed to be falling for him like this. None of this is part of the plan.

I wish someone would tell that to my heart.





Chapter Thirteen



Paige









"YOU GOING TO get this shit out of here?" I ask Mal as I prop my ass up against the counter in the kitchen, looking over at the bridal explosion that is my living room.

"Are you going to tell me what's up with this little number?" Mal drops one of the bridal books she's holding and runs her eyes over my outfit as she joins me in the kitchen.

I have on a pair of white shorts, ankle boots and a dark purple crop top, which if I move just right will show a little bit of my stomach. It's not something I'd normally wear, but I find I'm doing a lot of things lately I don't normally do. Besides, my new favorite thing is to get Captain worked up. I like seeing how far I can push him before he snaps. Get him to use that dirty mouth of his on me. When he doesn't hold back his emotions, I don't have to decide if I should give in and enjoy our time, or if I should stay as far away as possible. When I'm not the one holding the power, it leaves the decision up to him. It's a useless game, because I know what choice I'm going to make. But apparently I still like playing the game.

I shrug, trying to downplay it. "Going for a few beers."

"I miss beer." She puts on this fake little frown, making me roll my eyes. She's been pregnant five minutes. How can she miss anything?

"Yeah, you look real broken up about it." She places her hand on her stomach, and her face lights up. It's been like that for the past few days. She only pretends to pout, so I bet it works on Miles. Speaking of which …  "Where is your shadow? I find it hard to believe he's let you out twice in one day."

She waves her hand as if Miles is nothing to worry about. "Back to beers." She wiggles her eyebrows. "Captain?"

"Yeah, he suckered me in with beers and hot dogs. How can a girl say no to that?" I do a fake swoon, but Mal smiles bigger, knowing it's probably the perfect date to ask me on.

"Maybe you should have a snack or something. I mean, this is a date, and sometimes when you eat you get a little … " She chomps her teeth together like she's trying to make an animal face. 

"What are you doing?"

"You know, like a crazy tiger." She brings her hands up, doing some swiping motions, the worst tiger impression I've ever seen.

"Does your tiger have rabies or something?"

"Sometimes I wonder if you do." She pushes away from the counter. "Come on, let me do your makeup." I groan at the idea. This is a game we've played for years, but she has nothing to barter with. "I'll get all this stuff out of here if you let me. All the pink will be removed from this apartment before you come back home tonight."

I weigh her offer. I could simply throw all the shit in the hallway.

As if reading my thoughts, she trims her deal. "Just mascara and this lipstick I got that will match your top." Without waiting for a response, she heads for her old room.

When I enter, she's digging through one of her makeup bags. I glance around her room and think about how fast things have changed. We haven't really been in New York long, but for some reason it feels longer. Most of Mal's stuff is still here. From what I can tell of the clothes she's been wearing, Miles must have filled her closet with new ones at their place.

Mal stops rifling through her bag and places her head on my shoulder, her fingers locking with mine. "It's going to be weird not living with you," she finally says. I lean my head against hers, thinking the same thing.

"You're just a few floors up," I remind her, and myself.

"I know. I know. Still." She pulls me over to the bed, and I sit down as she starts putting mascara on me. "What will you do with the room?"

"Nothing." The word is simple, but it holds so much weight. I can't think of a single thing to do with the room. Nothing. What does that say about me? What am I going to do? Make up some secret room where I plot my father's death? Coat the walls with pictures and maps like you see on all the spy movies, because that's literally the only thing going on in my life right now? It's my one driving goal. I haven't ever thought past the point of getting my revenge. What would I want after that? If there even is an after. The reality is I could be in a room like this, only smaller, with bars on one side. But now it seems like there are a lot of possibilities if I want them. The risk count is higher now. There's more to lose.