She softens a little, the grey of her eyes clearing to become brighter, but there is still that stubborn set to her chin.
“While I appreciate that, I don’t need you to take care of me, Gage. I’ve practically looked after myself since I was four, and then Tania as well when she came along. I can manage to bring a suitcase or two into your house. If I let you start to take care of me even more than you already have, things will only get confused, and it’ll hurt when that care taking goes away once this is all over.”
With that, she grabs her suitcase and marches up the driveway. I grab a box to follow behind her. I’ll always respect her boundaries, and she clearly just threw down a big one. Someday I hope I can prove to her that no matter what happens with this fake marriage, I’ll always have her back. Considering the little bit of her history she’s told me, I know that’ll be much easier said than done. She’s done so much on her own and for Tania, but who has ever done anything for her?
As soon as we walk into the house, she goes to say hi to the birds. They’re excited to see her when they spot her from their aviaries, where I put them so that there’s no risk of them flying out the door while we bring in Celeste’s stuff.
“Beautiful Celeste,” Hermes croaks. A laugh escapes her as she leans toward him.
“Hey, smarty pants,” she coos back. Some of the tension from the driveway seems to dissipate as we share a look about how much Hermes seems to love her. Thank goodness for pets. I know Tania and Carlo’s cats love her, too. It’s like the animals have a sixth sense that she is a good person to her core who is in need of unconditional love.
We bring the other suitcase and box in before hauling it all upstairs to her room. Silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s companionable, there’s no pressure to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter. We move around each other easily as she opens one of the boxes, pulling out a bunch of books. I take it as my cue to go.
“I’ll let you get unpacked. Holler if you need anything, ok?”
As I turn to leave, I hear her let out a big breath.
“Hey. I’m actually a little hungry. Maybe we could attack that snack board you made and talk a little?”
I turn to look at her, and she’s fiddling with the hem of her blue tank top. I smile at her reassuringly and jerk my head toward the staircase.
“Let’s go, then. Those crackers and cheeses won’t attack themselves.”
We head down into the kitchen, and I place the board on the island before taking a seat next to her on the stools. She spreads some fig jam on a buttery cracker before putting a slice of manchego on top.
“You’re fancy putting out manchego and fig jam,” she remarks before popping the bite into her mouth.
“Just wanted to make you feel welcome,” I say easily with a shrug, glancing at her. She looks at me back, searching my face.
“I appreciate that. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate how much you’ve done to try to help me. This is just a lot, ok? I’m really worried about things getting muddled and someone getting hurt. I think we need clear boundaries going forward.”
I nod slowly, considering her words. Is she worried because I have an effect on her the same way she has an effect on me? Does she think about all of our casual little touches and that kiss at our wedding the way that I do?
“Ok, like what?” I finally ask. She cocks her head in thought.
“Like, we only get affectionate in front of your family. Otherwise, lines will get blurred.”
My stomach sinks a little at that thought. More and more, I’m thinking that maybe I want to blur the lines, but I’m not going to put any pressure on her when she’s clearly already got a lot on her mind.
“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. I really didn’t mean to come off as high handed earlier.” She waves me off.
“I know you only wanted to help, but getting doted on in any way just makes my brain revolt. There have been very few times where anything good came out of someone doting on me except for Tania.” She starts fiddling with the hem of her tank top again, not meeting my eyes. My curiosity has me asking the question that may completely make her shut down, it just slips out.
“What do you mean? At the risk of sounding ignorant or naive, how did someone doting on you turn out badly?”
“You don’t want to hear about it,” she clips.
“Hey, I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again. I want to know you, Celeste. Anything you’re willing to tell me is something I want to hear.”
She gives me that speculative look again, and then her eyes go far away, looking pained.
“I’ve only talked about this stuff a little with Tania, and the counselor that worked with me through a few of my foster homes. It’s not easy to rehash, but if we’re going to live together, I should let you know me better. It’ll make things easier in the long run if you understand where I’m coming from.” I nod in encouragement, and she takes a breath.
“Pretty much anyone who has ever doted on me, or shown me special interest, did it expecting something in return. When I was six, my foster dad at the time had a younger brother who always came around and gave me a ton of presents. He’d put me in his lap, tell me how pretty I was, and fuss over me. One night, I woke up to him in my room with his hand down my pants.”
Ice coats my veins, my heart unable to decide if it wants to stop or jolt into a sprint. It’s probably going to tear in two, as it should at her admission. Celeste visibly shudders next to me.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I tell her hoarsely. She shakes her head.
