She wraps her arms around my waist and looks up at me. “But if you want to make the bacon, I’ll go get dressed and meet you in bed.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not supposed to coddle you, but you want me to bring you breakfast in bed?”
She laughs. “See, you get it.” She drops a kiss on my shoulder then walks away.
I watch her go, and she pauses at the hallway entrance and looks at me over her shoulder, catching me. She smiles. Her real smile. My Gi.
23
Giovanna
When I wake up, Tommy is lying facing me, watching me. The room is dark, a distant light from outside casting enough glow to light up his features. The air feels still, like we’re both holding our breath.
We just look at each other for a long time. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t speak. Neither do I. His eyes move slowly over my face, taking me in, like he’s trying to learn me all over again. Or find something familiar to hold on to.
I wonder what he sees. Is the old me so ingrained in him that’s all he sees? Or is that version of me obliterated by the past two months, leaving only a shred of what’s familiar to him—or worse, a new version he doesn’t like.
He used to fall asleep inside me, craving that closeness, demanding nothing less than immersion in me. I learned to love it, falling asleep full of him, his arms wrapped around me, hisbreath on my neck, his hard chest pressing up against my back so that there was nothing between us.
But not now. There’s always space between us. And something else, something invisible and heavy and heartbreaking.
I know I’ve lost weight. I’m starting to gain it back as he feeds me, but my ribs show and I lack muscle tone. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m beautiful anymore. Maybe he no longer sees me that way. Maybe he can’t look at me without thinking about what Antonio did.
What Antonio did. Though I wasn’t present for the act, the knowledge that Tommy is no longer the only man who’s ever been inside me feels like a hot knife slicing through my brain every time I think about it. I hate that we no longer have that. That I no longer have that. That part of what made our story so special is now gone.
My throat tightens, and a tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. He reaches out like he wants to catch it for me, but I swipe it away first and force a smile I don’t feel.
He doesn’t smile back. His brows pull together, worried. Sad. Helpless.
I close my eyes before I see pity on his face. The air between us feels thick, and it hurts to breathe.
When I fall asleep again, it’s shallow and restless. I dream about dark paneled rooms, rocking boats on the ocean, needles piercing my skin, the echoes of screaming men, of gunfire.
Then I dream of Tommy, his voice calling my name through the darkness, his arms wrapping around me when I’m too weak to open my eyes and reach for him.
My eyes flicker open, and I intentionally pull myself out of that place between asleep and awake. For a second, I don’t know where I am. My chest clenches until I feel the bed under me, theheat of Tommy beside me, hear him breathing peacefully, finally asleep.
He’s not touching me. The space between us feels like a chasm. I can’t stand it. I shift closer to him, rustling the covers, and he jerks awake instantly, grabbing the gun from the nightstand, body wired and lethal.
“It’s just me,” I whisper, pressing my palm against his hard abs.
He exhales hard, rough, and puts the gun back slowly.
“Put your arms around me, Tommy,” I whisper.
He does. He wraps both arms all the way around me and squeezes me tight. His chest presses against my back, his chin brushes my hair. My whole body sinks into his warmth, his strength, the pressure of him around me. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can truly relax.
The next time I wake, it’s still dark, but Tommy is no longer holding me. I reach out, my hand patting the bed for him, but I’m practically on his side and my hand hits the nightstand.
Panicked, I slide my hands back over to my side of the bed and sit up fast when it’s cold and empty. My chest seizes. My breathing goes ragged. The room is spinning, my hands shaking so hard I can barely grip the blanket.
“Tommy?” My voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. I’m scared of what is out in the darkness.
No answer.
It feels like the walls are closing in. My skin crawls. My stomach flips. I can’t think. I can’tnotthink.
“Tommy!”
