Brandon Slade on his knees? Begging forgiveness?
The concept is so laughable I giggle, stopping only when my mama grins and nods once, her eyes alight with glee.
“Your daddy had one hell of a time living that one down but I can tell you he never messed with me again. We may be an old married couple and I may be a stay at home wife while he takes care of me and everything else around us but I have never been easy to trust. Your dad had to earn it.”
Oh snaaap!
“But maaama, he’s being such a dick about it he won’t even talk to me.” I whine, giving in to my natural inclination to hear them reassure me.
Not this time though.
“So you do all the talking till he eventually hears you Beck. Now I’m not saying I’ll take too kindly to that man treating you poorly but if you’ve slapped that mules ass you’re gonna have to take a kick or two to the head for your efforts. Make him see that you’re worth a second chance and…if that doesn’t work then you move along and accept it. At least you’ll have tried instead of running or hiding like you’re prone to do. Now enough gloomy talk, who wants ice-cream?”
And just like that I’m okay. I may not be a hundred percent happy right now but I know that as long as they’re here for me I’ll be okay.
I hope.
Chapter Thirty
I’m officially nervous. And sweating. And there may have been an incident that involved a bar of dark chocolate. But I’m okay now or okay as I can be having moved all my stuff back into his room and getting into his bed as if he hasn’t just thrown me out.
According to mama the best way to get a man to his knees is a sexy nightie and his sheets, on his bed, caressing your skin.
I’d agree if not for the fact that I feel about as sexy as a freaking cold sore on prom day.
It’s late, everyone has eaten and gone off to their separate rooms and Devon still hasn’t made an appearance. I’ve been waiting for just on an hour now and though I want to be alert and ready for his arrival I fall asleep somewhere around midnight, my heart a little more bruised by the thought that he’s doing something that’ll ruin what little we have left.
Gia, that rat fink, is still in the States and I have a sneaky suspicion that her stay could have something to do with his lateness. My first reaction is to slink back to the guestroom and pretend I don’t care but mama’s words haunt me as I drift into the void and I harden myself, determined to at least try before I give up and admit failure.
The sound of cursing and a thud bring me out of the dream I’m having and I sit up with a moan, squinting into the darkness at the hulking shadow stumbling its way toward the bed.
I don’t make a sound and shuffle back under the covers, hoping to go unnoticed before he strips down and joins me. It’s only when the sheets lift and he slides in, his heated skin making contact with my extended belly that he realizes he’s not alone and I hear a curse before the light blinks on.
My eyes squeeze shut and I regulate my breathing as best I can before he realizes that I’m awake enough to kick my ass back to my own room.
“Rebecca?”
Curses, I freaking hate it when he calls me that. I hadn’t realized until now how very much I’d become enamoured of his pet name for me but now that he’s distanced himself I long to hear that stupid name so badly.
I let off a tiny snore and shift onto my back, snuffling deeper into the bed. He pokes my once and leans over me, his breath hitting my nose with an alcohol count that makes me lightheaded.
“Rebecca. Becky.” He slurs drunkenly. “Wake up.”
When I don’t I hear him groan and flop down on the bed, his colourful cruses making my lips twitch to the point that I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing outright.
The light shuts off and I feel him shift around before relaxing back with a sigh. When his breath starts evening out, not quite at the point of sleep but close enough I make my move and roll over, planting my belly on his side and snuggling into his neck.
Poor Dev. He stiffens and tries to shift away, but he’s already manoeuvred himself so close to the edge that there’s nowhere to go.
“Bloody hell.”
I’m on tenter hooks waiting for him to either shove himself to his feet or shake me awake and send me packing when I feel his arm shift me closer and his other hand come to rest against my stomach.
The action is so him and so gentle that I want to whoop and cry at the same time with relief but I don’t, instead a lie there quietly and enjoy the closeness I know won’t last once the sun comes up.
It’s a start though and one that makes me believe that I have a shot, dismal though it is, at bringing him a step closer to listening to my apologies.