Every inch of me aches. And the hot water pouring down over me isn’t helping like I thought it would.
I should have taken up Devon on his offer and made use of his soaker tub.
Except it’s after 2am and by mutual decision, we’re calling it a night. The wall we started on is almost gone and the open space left in its wake says the room needs to be seamless. No archway.
Over the course of a few hours I’ve discovered something about myself I never knew. I like tearing things down and imagining what they could look like when I rebuild them.
Thinking about making something from nothing or demolishing and remaking gives me a thrill I wish I’d had for just one other thing in my life up until now.
I don’t remember being this excited about anything since before Mom got sick. Before the courts tore me and my brother away from our grieving father and placed us in the care of an old man who rules with an iron fist. His way or the highway.
I hate that I’ve spent my whole adult life bowing to his demands.
Every aspect of my life has been dictated by a man I realize I don’t even like.
Turning under the shower, I moan as the warmth hits my shoulders. I’m definitely not used to physical activity of this kind. No doubt I’ll be regretting tonight’s choices in the morning.
Speaking of. I need to get out before I use up all the hot water and Devon has to take a cold shower.
I take one more turn beneath the spray, then flick the water off. Reaching for a towel, I discover the rack they’re on is heated. Wrapped in a warm towel, I step out of the shower enclosure and in front of the counter.
The pile of fresh clothes Devon gave me before I came in here sit neatly folded where I left them. The spare toothbrush, paste, comb, and hair dryer right beside them.
He thought of everything.
I didn’t even have to tell him I can’t go to bed with wet hair. It’s already going to be bad enough in the morning without my straightener. I can’t remember the last time I let my natural curls free.
In fact, I’m pretty sure the only person besides me who knows my hair is curly is my hairdresser.
Frowning, I pull a long strand away from my head. Even dripping wet the curl is noticeable. How easier would life be if I didn’t need to straighten it every morning?
Curls are messy. So unbecoming for a Foxworth.
Grandmother’s words echo in my head and my frown deepens. The memory is from years ago. I think I was nine and I’d bounced downstairs to breakfast so proud of myself for doing my own hair in two ponytails.
Is that when the molding began? It was only a few months after Mom died and we’d been forced to move out of our home and in with our grandparents.
Shaking my head, I clear those thoughts and focus on more immediate issues. Like how I’m going to explain running out on my wedding to my friends and family.
Not that I intended to explain myself to Grandfather yet. But Edward deserves answers. And Carlla. She’s been nothing but gracious with each and every change to the plan over the last few months.
Even allowing Peter’s mother to put her in a hideous bridesmaid’s dress. One more thing I let that woman control in what should have been one of the most significant days of my life.
A growl works its way up my throat and I let it free. The sound echoing off the tiled walls.
“Lizzi?” There’s a tap on the door. “Lizzi, everything okay?”
Anger surges up so fast it sucks the breath from my lungs. Stepping over, I twist the handle and yank the door open. “I’m a passenger in my own life.”
Devon doesn’t flinch. He just stands there, inches from me, and ignores the fact I yelled in his face.
“Why did I not see? How could I be so blind?”
“I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that most of the time our minds overlook things that will hurt us if we can live with them.” He shrugs. “It’s why people remain in situations that aren’t ideal. Better the devil you know.”
“No. That’s not it. I believed things about myself I should have known were lies.”
He studies me for a moment. His head tips slightly. “What about you is a lie?”
