Chapter Twenty
Ihaven’t left the house today, I showered this morning and changed into a pair of cycling shorts and a cropped tee and read in my bedroom. There’s no one here to chastise me for not getting polished, no one to tell me to curl my hair or put mascara on my lashes or look pretty, and I’ve enjoyed the peace.
Even when every other thought has been plagued by River Sinclair.
We shared a bed last night, I slept on him the whole time, woke to his smell in my nose and his body beneath mine. I sleep well but there’s no denying how rested I felt when I woke this morning.
I still feel my cheeks heating every time I think about touching him, tracing those hard muscles with my fingers as I explored his abdomen and chest. His reaction to the scar was startling but not unexpected. I shouldn’t have asked, it’s none of my business, I just wish he stayed long enough for me to apologize properly.
I contemplated texting him and apologizing but I didn’t want to encroach on a space I wasn’t wanted yet. I crossed a boundary and if he never wants to see me again then that is his right.
At around seven I realize I’ve gone the whole day without anything to eat so I venture downstairs to grab something. I go for something easy and make an omelet with cheese and mushrooms before I grab a water from the fridge and make my way back upstairs, only to freeze in the doorway.
River is at my window, his hands in his pockets, hair a little messy.
“You’re here,” I linger in the doorway.
“Can I stay?” He asks quietly.
“Of course you can,” I breathe, finally moving away from the door and toward the bed where I put everything down, “Let me just grab you a drink.”
I dart away before he can speak and grab another two bottles of water from the fridge. He’s sitting on my bed when I get back, reading the back of the romance novel I was reading.
“Uh,” I gently take it from him and hand him the bottle, “Here.”
“Is that your dinner?” He asks, staring at the rapidly cooling omelet on my plate.
“Yes?” It comes out more question than answer.
“Is that it?” He cringes.
“Well, yes,” I frown, “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s hardly a meal, princess,” He frowns.
“Well, I didn’t want to make anything else, this was easiest,” I tell him.
“Why not order in?” He kicks off his shoes and leans back on my headboard.
“As in take out?” I blink, “I’ve never had it.”
His jaw unhinges, “I’m sorry, what?”
“My mother would never allow it,” I shrug and pick up my fork, but River is quick and snatches it away from me.
“Absolutely not. We’re ordering pizza.”
Something in my expression must tell him I’ve never had it before.
“Good god,” He sighs, “Sit down, Marly. I’ll order us food and you can thank me after for the culinary experience you’re about to have.”
I laugh at him and let him pull me toward the bed before he picks up my plate like it’s physically offended him and dumps it on my vanity. He pulls out his cell and taps the screen a few times before he tucks it away again and joins me, snatching up one of the bottles of water.
A few seconds of silence stretches between us.
“I’m sorry for this morning,” He eventually says, “My scars are…”
“Your business,” I finish for him.
