addiction. I used to prance around the house in all of them and now I have my own collection.”
I open the front door, guiding her into the hallway. “I’m not complaining.”
We walk hand in hand a few blocks to my favorite steakhouse in the Gas Lamp. The hostess seats us at a quiet table near the window. While Peyton looks over the menu, I take my time observing little things about her. Like how her hair is always tucked behind her ear on the right side, but she purses her lips to the left when she thinks. Her shoulders are always high, part of the confidence that drew me to her from the start.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Perhaps an explanation of why I can’t stay away from her. The waiter interrupts my thoughts. Peyton orders her steak rare and a beer. She’s definitely not the type I typically find myself with. Maybe that’s the draw.
The waiter leaves us and I take her hand. “So, I know where you’re from, but tell me more about you.”
She shrugs and for the first time I spot a chink in the armor of confidence she usually wears. “My father’s a fireman. My mom’s a school teacher. Basically, I had a normal ordinary childhood.”
“And you make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“Oh, no, but boring. I’ve always longed to be a city girl.” Her eyebrows knit together. “I mean, I don’t have any rock stars or CEO’s in my family.”
Funny how my life appears to people on the outside. “I’ll trade you.” I laugh nervously.
“What about your parents? What are they like?”
There’s no sense in lying to her. My past is all over the internet. Any truth she wants to learn about me can be accessed with a few clicks. “My mom’s a murdering psychopath and my spineless father’s in prison.”
“Come on,” she balks. “I’m being serious.”
She waits with her eyebrows high.
“So am I.”
“Oh.”
A laugh escapes as I grin. “Seriously, you can Google it.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry.”
I wave my hand. “Ancient history.”
I’m long over focusing on my parents. They laid the groundwork, but I fucked up my life all on my own.
“Maybe, but your past is always going to be there, waiting to remind you of who you were or where you came from. You decide how much power those memories have.”
That’s the second time she’s mentioned not allowing the past to control me. Thankfully the waiter arrives with the bottle of wine I ordered before I think too hard about what she said. The power my past has over me gives me an excuse to be who I want and behave how I want. If I release its hold, I’ll have to admit how far I’ve strayed from who I really am or who I want to be.
W ith an enormous ache in my chest, I follow Eduardo up the stairs to our bed. My opportunity to reach Tug will have to wait. I didn’t lock the bathroom door and if not for Eduardo’s heavy footsteps, he would have busted me. I barely hid the phone before he barged in through the door. Tomorrow, I’ll have to let Marco know where it’s hidden.
As Eduardo slowly undresses me, I close my eyes so that I can imagine I’m with Tug, but it’s Eduardo I see and it’s Eduardo I feel. It makes me sick to feel anything for this man, but I’m helpless to fight my emotions.
His soft kisses and whisperings send goose bumps up my arms. I lie down on the bed and willingly offer myself to him. Tears fall from my eyes as his body hovers above mine. I have no idea who I am or what’s right and wrong, or what I’m going to do.
I’m lost but I’m not sure I want to be found.
I feel peace.
“C an you think of any reason Mr. Dellisen would break into your place?” the female officer asks Peyton.
“No.”
“Is anything missing?”
“Not that I know of, but I didn’t spend a lot of time checking and I haven’t been home since it happened.”
“Have you ever had an altercation with him?”
Peyton locks her eyes on me as her bottom lip begins to quiver. “About a month ago.” She
I open the front door, guiding her into the hallway. “I’m not complaining.”
We walk hand in hand a few blocks to my favorite steakhouse in the Gas Lamp. The hostess seats us at a quiet table near the window. While Peyton looks over the menu, I take my time observing little things about her. Like how her hair is always tucked behind her ear on the right side, but she purses her lips to the left when she thinks. Her shoulders are always high, part of the confidence that drew me to her from the start.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for. Perhaps an explanation of why I can’t stay away from her. The waiter interrupts my thoughts. Peyton orders her steak rare and a beer. She’s definitely not the type I typically find myself with. Maybe that’s the draw.
The waiter leaves us and I take her hand. “So, I know where you’re from, but tell me more about you.”
She shrugs and for the first time I spot a chink in the armor of confidence she usually wears. “My father’s a fireman. My mom’s a school teacher. Basically, I had a normal ordinary childhood.”
“And you make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“Oh, no, but boring. I’ve always longed to be a city girl.” Her eyebrows knit together. “I mean, I don’t have any rock stars or CEO’s in my family.”
Funny how my life appears to people on the outside. “I’ll trade you.” I laugh nervously.
“What about your parents? What are they like?”
There’s no sense in lying to her. My past is all over the internet. Any truth she wants to learn about me can be accessed with a few clicks. “My mom’s a murdering psychopath and my spineless father’s in prison.”
“Come on,” she balks. “I’m being serious.”
She waits with her eyebrows high.
“So am I.”
“Oh.”
A laugh escapes as I grin. “Seriously, you can Google it.”
She frowns. “I’m sorry.”
I wave my hand. “Ancient history.”
I’m long over focusing on my parents. They laid the groundwork, but I fucked up my life all on my own.
“Maybe, but your past is always going to be there, waiting to remind you of who you were or where you came from. You decide how much power those memories have.”
That’s the second time she’s mentioned not allowing the past to control me. Thankfully the waiter arrives with the bottle of wine I ordered before I think too hard about what she said. The power my past has over me gives me an excuse to be who I want and behave how I want. If I release its hold, I’ll have to admit how far I’ve strayed from who I really am or who I want to be.
W ith an enormous ache in my chest, I follow Eduardo up the stairs to our bed. My opportunity to reach Tug will have to wait. I didn’t lock the bathroom door and if not for Eduardo’s heavy footsteps, he would have busted me. I barely hid the phone before he barged in through the door. Tomorrow, I’ll have to let Marco know where it’s hidden.
As Eduardo slowly undresses me, I close my eyes so that I can imagine I’m with Tug, but it’s Eduardo I see and it’s Eduardo I feel. It makes me sick to feel anything for this man, but I’m helpless to fight my emotions.
His soft kisses and whisperings send goose bumps up my arms. I lie down on the bed and willingly offer myself to him. Tears fall from my eyes as his body hovers above mine. I have no idea who I am or what’s right and wrong, or what I’m going to do.
I’m lost but I’m not sure I want to be found.
I feel peace.
“C an you think of any reason Mr. Dellisen would break into your place?” the female officer asks Peyton.
“No.”
“Is anything missing?”
“Not that I know of, but I didn’t spend a lot of time checking and I haven’t been home since it happened.”
“Have you ever had an altercation with him?”
Peyton locks her eyes on me as her bottom lip begins to quiver. “About a month ago.” She
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