Simple Perfection by Abbi Glines Page A

Della. Any way I could have her, I wanted her. I wasn’t ever going to be all right. I didn’t want her to be alone. I wanted someone to hold her.
    “Hold her for me. Hold her tight. Don’t let her be lonely. Don’t let her hurt. Please.”
    “I will do what she allows me to do. But my arms aren’t the ones she wants.”
    “Fuck,” I growled as sharp pains wrapped around my throat.
    “Just give her more time,” Tripp said.
    I took several long, steadying breaths. He had to get back to her. He couldn’t leave her alone like this. “When we hang up, go back to her.”
    Tripp sighed. “Fine. But I had plans tonight. There’s a hot little bartender giving me the eye.”
    “Do you need more money?” I asked him. I had been depositing money into his account since he had called the first night. I wanted her in nice hotels and I wanted her to eat well.
    “She’s going to notice soon that we aren’t running out of money. I keep waiting for her to bring up the fact that we stay in the nicest part of each town and eat in high-end restaurants instead of fast-food chains. She’s not an idiot.”
    “I’m holding on by a damn thread. Your phone calls and the fact I know she’s in nice hotels and eating good food is the only fucking thing keeping me sane.”
    “I’m going to see if I can convince her to go back to my place in South Carolina with me. I have a nice place there. It’s safe and I have a job I can go back to. I can get her a job, too.”
    I just wanted her to come home. “Whatever you need to do. But she stays safe.”
    “I’m keeping her safe. I promise.”
    “You took her from me,” I reminded him. I couldn’t thank him.
    “She asked me to. I’m her friend, too.”
    “She needs me.”
    “No, dude. Right now, she needs to find the strength inside herself. The strength she doesn’t think is there. Once she realizes that she isn’t a burden, she’ll be back.”
    “She has to,” I said, then ended the call before Tripp heard the pain in my voice.

Della
    T he pizza hadn’t even arrived yet when Tripp walked back in the door. I had been sure he was going to screw a stranger. “You’re back?”
    He shrugged. “I decided I’d rather have pizza instead of a beer.”
    Something was up. He wouldn’t rather have had pizza than get laid. Tripp was a bit of a man-whore. I had figured this out pretty fast. Women liked him and he liked them right back—for about two or three hours, then he was gone.
    “Why are you really back? You never choose pizza over . . . beer.”
    A crooked grin tugged at his lips and he shifted his gaze over to me. “By the way you just said beer , I’m going to assume you know what I’m normally up to when I step out for a drink.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Uh, yeah.”
    Tripp sank down on the edge of the other bed. “Well, tonight I was thinking about something and I thought we might need to talk more than I needed a beer.”
    I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so I just waited.
    The knock on the door stopped him from going any farther.
    “Pizza,” he said, standing up and going to pay for the pizza. I had also ordered a two-liter soda. It wasn’t beer but it came with the special.
    I watched as he set the pizza down on my bed and grabbed the two plastic glasses by the ice bucket and fixed us a drink. I had been thinking we needed to talk, too, I just wasn’t sure when we would get the chance. Before we got any farther away from South Carolina, I planned on telling him we should go there.
    “Meat lover’s. It’s like you knew I was coming back,” he said.
    “No. The special tonight was a large meat lover’s and a two-liter soda for fifteen dollars. I went with the special.”
    “Lucky me,” he replied.
    “Talk, Tripp. I want to know what’s more important than beer.”
    Tripp let out a small chuckle and took a drink of his soda. Then he settled his green eyes on me. “Impatient, aren’t you.”
    I didn’t reply. I just raised my eyebrows to let