Page 49 of Coming Up Roses
I tap my hand on the doorframe a couple of times. “Let me know if you need anything.” I pull the door shut and spin away, getting as far away from that bathroom door as possible.
I head into the bedroom and flop face first onto the mattress. I bury my groan in a pillow. What have I gotmyself into? Would it really have been so wrong of me to let her drive home in the middle of the night on dark, remote backroads when she’s clearly exhausted?
I couldn’t let her drive, but I should have made her stay with Olivia. The main house has two spare bedrooms and multiple couches. Maybe I should go sleep down there. But how would I explain that away? That would be more complicated than Abi going there herself.
I groan again and press my hips into the mattress, trying desperately to smother my dick in the hope it deflates before she gets out of the shower. It’s been half hard since she stepped through the front door.
When I have no luck smothering my cock into behaving, I shove off the bed and rifle through my drawers for something Abi can wear. My options are pretty limited, but I do have a pair of grey sweatpants that aren’t too hideous and a huge grey t-shirt that I picked up as a freebie somewhere along the way. Those kind of freebies always come several sizes too big for me, but the fabric is soft, so it’s still one of my favourites.
I knock on the bathroom door, then crack is open a sliver. “Clothes,” I say, pushing the bundle through the tiniest gap I can. I’m not tempting fate or my willpower by opening this door any further than I absolutely have to.
“Thanks,” Abi calls out before I jerk the door closed again.
Then I turn my attention to my bedroom. I’m not a total slob so it’s not disgusting, but I am a single guy who works a lot and is more than a little lazy when it comes to housework.
I fold the pile of clothes I’ve dumped on the chair in thecorner and shove them back into drawers, then I strip the sheets off the bed and remake it with my spare set.
When everything is as tidy as it can be, I fall back on the couch, staring up at my mum’s paintings again.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to Mum, and like earlier, I hear her voice in my head, this time telling me I’ll make the right choice.
The trouble is, I can’t figure out what the right choice is.
Turning Abi down seems like the sensible one. I wasn’t lying to her when I said it was complicated. Between Sadie, Dallas, Katie, Olivia and our jobs, complicated doesn’t seem like a big enough word.
So yeah, keeping our relationship at the status quo is the sensible choice. Keeping our hot as fuck beach make out session a secret, also a sensible choice.
But sensible doesn’t always mean it’s therightchoice.
And that’s the thought running through my head when Abi opens the bathroom door and steps through in a rush of steam.
My eyes trail over her, admiring the way my clothes fit her. Or don’t really fit her, because the t-shirt is oversized on her too, but the sweatpants are snug. I realise I’m staring at the curve of her hips and jerk my gaze away.
“All good?” I ask, like the complete fool I am.
“Yeah,” Abi says softly as she steps across the room and lowers herself onto the couch beside me. She sits sideways, facing me, with one leg tucked up under her. Her cheeks are flushed that delicious rosy colour and her dark hair is piled messily on her head, the few loose tendrils damp and curlingfrom the shower. “You’re right about the pressure, but it still feels amazing being clean again.”
I make a half-hearted grunting noise in agreement and immediately want to slap myself across the face. Instead I continue staring at the ceiling, willing my mother’s spirit to give me some kind of clue.
“The flowers are a cute touch,” Abi says, voice too cheery for my behaviour. Cool. I’ve made her uncomfortable.
“Yeah, my mum painted them when she lived here.”
“Your mum lived here?”
“Yeah. Well, my dad did first. They lived here for six months after they got married. She painted the flowers, apparently trying to make this place nice, and Henry never let anyone paint over them, even after they moved out.”
“I love that.”
“Yeah, it’s nice having that random little touch of her,” I say. I don’t tell her I ask the paintings questions. “You all done in the bathroom?” I push off the couch.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“It’s no worries, Rosie,” I say, forcing a smile and trying not to think about all of my worries about this woman. “Bedroom is through here.” I lead her through the only other door in the flat. “I’m going to go shower, but make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks, Flynn,” Abi says, voice soft, then she turns back to the bed. “What side do you sleep on?”
“Side?”
