Page 24 of Beautiful Life
“Stop talking,” he demands.
I don’t know how much time goes by that we sit on the floor while I cry it out. Finally, I try my best to pull in a lung full of air to calm myself. “I need to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s good you brought the dog, you’re staying with me. There’s no way I’m letting you leave.”
“No, Tony, I can’t. Don’t you see?”
He pulls my head back from him and pushes his fingers up in my hair again to hold me steady. “What I see is someone blaming herself for something that isn’t her fault. I see a beautiful woman who has an even more beautiful heart. You’re terrified of letting yourself be happy and not forgiving yourself for something that needs no forgiveness. I told you way back you have a beautiful life and I swear to you, you’re going to realize it sooner than later. But you cannot take yourself away from me again. Never again, Leigh. Promise me.”
I try to reconcile all he’s said. He knows it all now. I got pregnant knowing Preston didn’t know nor did he want a baby. I was weak, needed something to love and thought a child would fill that void.
I must not be responding fast enough, because his fingers flex in my head. “Promise me. I need your promise, gem.”
Because I’m weak and can’t help it, I finally give in. I don’t know what else to do. I see the tension leave his body. He almost slumps in front of me, resting his forehead on mine with what seems like relief. A relief that exposes him completely. Exposing himself to me is beautiful. Exquisite. He opens his eyes and pulls back enough to sweep my face only the way he can. Another gift.
“Thank you,” he says. He moves gingerly to his feet and puts a hand out to help me up.
I get up without his help so I don’t hurt him while wiping the tears away from my face. “I guess you don’t have an infection?”
He puts his hands to my face again, his thumbs sweeping my cheeks and pulls me close. “No, I don’t have an infection. But I do have you back.” He kisses my forehead, yet another gift I’ve missed dearly. “Come on. I’m tired. We’re going to bed. I’ve missed sleeping with you, sweetheart. It’s been a long two weeks.”
Exhausted from my crying jag, I don’t have it in me to fight him after all I just bared. In my weakened state, I allow myself to admit I’ve missed sleeping with him, too. More than anything.
He takes my hand and I look around to take in more of his house as he pulls me around the corner, down a short hall into his bedroom. Now I feel like we’re in unchartered territory. There was something strangely natural about Tony working his way into my bed before. Coming to me every night to make sure I didn’t dream or comfort me if I did. I mean, we were at Gabby’s house, I’m just a guest there and it’s not even my bed.
But this is Tony’s bedroom. A very nice bedroom. There’s a huge chest along the side wall in a dark honey color, probably pine, and very distressed. Facing his bed is a low dresser in a grey with another television mounted over it. The bed is covered in beige linen fabric with a wood frame painted the same grey. It’s messy and unmade with tons of pillows. On either side of the bed stand mismatched nightstands, both in the same matte black finish, probably something Gabby refinished for him.
He drags me to the huge pine dresser, opens a drawer, yanks out a t-shirt and shoves it my way. “Bathroom’s in there. Help yourself to whatever you need. You can use my toothbrush.”
I stop dead in my tracks and turn around. “I’m not using your toothbrush.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not, that’s why not.”
“I don’t mind,” he says.
“Well, I mind,” I shoot back.
I must be too dazed from my recent drama, crying jag, revealing what I revealed, taking in his bedroom and on top of all that, him offering me his toothbrush. Quicker than I realize, he grabs me behind my head and pulls me to him with his mouth landing on mine. I open mine to protest, but it’s too late because his tongue dips immediately in my mouth to sweep mine.
Again, it’s like a caress. Another gift. I can’t help but to feel it down to my soul and melt into him. I’ve missed his caresses terribly. He takes control, his tongue dancing with mine and I feel his hand at the back of my head and his other angled down my back with his hand on the side of my far lower hip, holding me to him tight. His lips are strong and he tastes incredible. He slows our kiss, but doesn’t pull away, holding my face close as if to savor the moment.
As much as he surprised me, he breaks our beautiful moment. “Finally. That was way overdue. Now you can use my toothbrush.” He pulls me in and kisses me one more time before letting me go. Smiling down at me, he turns me giving me another nudge to the bathroom.
Still dazed by my drama and now my first real Tony kiss, I head into the bathroom to find something to wash my face. Then I brush my teeth using Tony’s toothbrush. As I do this, I hear him letting Mia out and doing some stuff in the kitchen. I change out of my clothes and into Tony’s t-shirt, trying not to let it register how good it feels against my skin.
Leaving my clothes folded in the bathroom, I pad out barefoot to the bedroom as Tony is pulling something else from his pine chest of drawers. He turns and stops. His gaze, intense again but in a different way, move over me from head to toe and back up again, making me catch my breath. He moves to me and putting a hand to my jaw, he lifts my head to kiss me softly on the lips. Letting me go, he walks around me without a word and goes into the bathroom.
I let out my breath and move to his big bed. It’s bigger than the one we sleep in at Gabby’s. I climb in, tuck my knees under his big shirt and wait on him. When he comes out of his bathroom in nothing but his pajama pants, exactly like he normally comes to me, I look directly to his new scar on the left side of his torso. It’s still pink and puckered, marring his perfect body.
With my legs moving on their own accord, I rise to my knees and shuffle myself to the edge of the bed. He comes straight to me and I bring my hand up to his puckered still healing incision to run my fingers over it.
Not able to look him in the eyes, I stare at his scar. “Are you still in pain?”
“Pain, no. Discomfort sometimes? Yes. But it’s not bad.”
I feel my tears start again and have to make myself look up to him. His hands come to my face and through my new tears I quietly state the obvious, “You were shot.”
