“I know you’re not threatening violence, Olivia,” William says with an edge of laughter in his tone.
“Gracie Taylor.” I say her name through clenched teeth and take no pleasure in the audible inhale of hurt breath that travels down the line. “Did I see her?” I demand. Miller immediately pulls me back into his chest, and I start prying his hard grip from my limbs. “Was it her?” I shout, sending my elbow shooting back into his ribs in my frenzy.
“Fuck!” Miller roars, losing his hold of me. I dive for the phone, trying to drink in some air in order to demand an answer, but Miller lunges forward and cuts the call before I get there.
“What are you doing?” I yell, fighting away his grappling hands as he tries to claim me.
He wins. I’m yanked into his body, and my flailing arms are locked in a harsh hold. “Calm down!”
I’m being driven by pure anger, blinded by determination. “No!” Strength surges through me and I heave upward, violently arching my back in an attempt to escape the clutches of an increasingly concerned Miller.
“Calm. Down. Olivia,” he warns on a quiet hiss in my ear once he’s secured me against his naked chest. Both of our anger is detectable through the combined heat of our skin. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
My breathing is heavy, my hair a mess of locks falling all over my red face. “Let go of me.” I struggle to speak clearly through my self-inflicted exhaustion.
Breathing deeply, he pushes his lips into my hair and releases me. I waste no time. I’m up from his lap and running away from my cold reality, slamming the door behind me and not slowing until I land in the en suite of the master bedroom. I slam that door, too. Then I stomp over to the egg-shaped tub and flip on the taps. The anger swirling through me is blocking any instructions from my mind to calm down. I need to calm down, but my hate for William and my mental torment over my mother won’t allow it. My hands find my hair and yank, the anger transforming into frustration. In an attempt to distract myself, I squeeze some toothpaste onto my brush and scrub my teeth. It’s a silly effort to rid my mouth of the sour aftertaste of her name on my tongue.
After spending far more time brushing than is truly necessary, I spit and rinse, then look up to the mirror. My pale cheeks are rosy, a mixture of receding anger and the familiar flush of desire that’s ever present these days. But my navy eyes are disturbed. After the horrific events that saw us fleeing London, burying my ignorant head in a bottomless pit of sand has been easy. Now I’m being punished by relentless jolts of realism. “Lock the world outside and stay here with me forever,” I whisper, losing myself in the reflection of my own eyes. My world slows around me as I brace my hands on the sides on the sink, my chin dropping to my chest. Hopelessness is trickling into my overwrought mind. It’s unwelcome, but my exhausted mind and body are failing to locate any scrap of resolve amid my emotion. Everything seems impossible again.
On a heavy sigh, I glance up and find the water nearing the top of the bath, but I don’t rush over. I haven’t the energy, so I slowly turn and drag my dejected body across the room to flip the taps off. Then I step in and sink into the water, resisting the urge to close my eyes and immerse my face. I remain still, staring vacantly across the large room, forcing my mind to blank out. It works to a certain degree. I concentrate on the pleasing tones of Miller’s voice, every loving word he’s ever spoken to me and every caress of my body. All of it. From the very start to now. And I hope and pray that there is so much more to come.
A light tap on the bathroom door pulls my dry eyes across the room, and I blink repeatedly to moisten them up again. “Olivia?” Miller’s voice is low and concerned. It makes me feel like shit. He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead gently pushing the door open and holding on to the handle while he leans on the doorframe and searches me out. He’s slipped on some black boxers, and I can see a red blotch on his ribs, courtesy of me. When his crystal blues locate me, my guilt multiplies by a million. He tries to smile but ends up dropping his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
His apology confuses me. “What are you sorry for?”
“Everything.” He doesn’t hesitate. “For letting you fall in love with me. For…” He looks up at me and takes a slow pull of breath. “For being too fascinated by you to leave you alone.”
A sad smile forms on my lips, and I reach up to collect the shampoo before holding it up to him. “Will you do me the honor of washing my hair?” He needs to lose himself in some worshipping, anything to steady our shaky world.