Hollis clears his throat, and I swear, he stands a little taller. “Okay, so, I happen to be a secret believer in the importance of self-care,” he starts. “Whenever I have an exceptionally rough day, or week, or whatever, and I wanna relax and unwind, I’ll do the masks and watch the show, but I’ll also add in a little more…pizzazz, if you will.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, really fighting back a laugh because hearing the word “pizzazz” come out of Hollis’s mouth is too much, but somehow, I manage.
“I also remember what you said your guilty pleasure was.” He continues, before reaching back into the paper bag and retrieving a rectangular cardboard box. Placing it beside the other items, Hollis meets my gaze. “How relaxin’ doing puzzles was for you, how it was your way to unwind. But I also remember you tellin’ me that it was something you hadn’t done in a while.”
“So, you got me a puzzle…and all of this?” My voice comes out shaky and rough, my throat uncomfortably tight, and it feels like there’s a weight pressing down on the center of my chest. None of this is making any sense—I mean, itis, but also…not. Like my brain can’t seem to compute. “Why?”
Hollis huffs, the corner of his mouth lifting in the softest of smiles. “Because while I’ve never gone through it myself, I’d imagine the official ending of a marriage you’ve spent many years in, with someone you once loved more than anything, would suck, no matter how much it needed to happen.”
My mouth dries, and it’s like suddenly, I can feel every single hair on my body. Feel the way they stand on edge beside the goosebumps prickling along my flesh. They cover my arms. My heart thumps uncomfortably hard against my ribs, like it’s trying to escape from my chest altogether, palms slick with sweat, and my knees wobble ever-so-slightly. I grab the edge of the counter in an attempt to steady myself. To center myself.
To make sense of this.
But it’s impossible because I can’t think. I can’t find my voice. I can’t do anything other than blink at the man in front of me. The man nearly half my age. The cocky cowboy who’s typically all flirt and sarcasm and charisma, but is now standing in my home being nothing of the sort. Instead, he’s being caring and sweet and…concerned. He’s in front of me, not for sex, but to be here formetoday—a day I truly didn’t anticipate being as tough as it’s been—and I don’t know how to process that.
I had a court hearing first thing this morning. The judge signed the final divorce decree, which means me and Trent are no longer married. Over twenty years of our lives, dissolved in the blink of an eye with nothing more than ink on paper. And while I’m relieved, and ready to move on with my life, to close this painful, disappointing chapter, I’m also…sad. It fills me as much as relief does, like they’re working in tandem.
Blinking against the pressure building behind my eyes, I clear my throat, unable to look Hollis in the eye. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to,” he offers nonchalantly. Like he’s completely unaware of what he’s doing to me. “So, here…” Handing me one of the white robes,nottowels, and a pair of the fuzzy socks, he says, “Go put these on, preferably with nothing on underneath—just trust me—and meet me in the living room when you’re done.”
In true Hollis fashion, he has no shame and doesn’t waste any time stripping down in my kitchen to do the same, but before he gets completely naked, I scurry off to the bedroom, my heart in my throat while I do what he says. I feel a little ridiculous, wearing this thick, fluffy robe, pulling on a pair of yellow fuzzy socks with mini brown cowboy boots all over them.
It's fine.
I’m fine.
Sure, this may be really fucking weird and, yeah, my heart is beating so fast, I wouldn’t be surprised if I went into cardiac arrest, but aside from that, all of this is incredibly thoughtful. I appreciate it, and him being here, even if I’m unable to voice it. And even if I haven’t a damn clue what I’m about to walk into. Scratching a hand along the scruff lining my jaw, I drag in a long, deep breath through my nose while I stand in the center of my room. Holding it in, I let my arms fall to my side, shaking out the nerves before exhaling through my mouth. I do this a few more times before finally finding the courage to walk out of the room, albeit on unsteady legs.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, with the coffee table pulled close, Hollis flicks his gaze over to me as I approach, eyes bright as his mouth curves into a wide, toothy grin. “Fuckin’ knew you’d look good in that,” he drawls, patting the seat beside him. Waggling his brows, he adds, “The socks are a nice touch, aren’t they?”
Once I’m seated, I allow myself a moment to really look at Hollis. His robe is tied, but the top is loosely open, showing off his chest, and the bottom rides up on one of his legs, showing me justhownaked he is under the terry cloth. The sight, and that knowledge, makes my blood heat. Then I notice his socks. Like mine, they’re yellow and fuzzy, butunlike mine,his have little flickering flames all over them, instead of boots.
Remembering he asked a question, I clear my throat and meet his gaze. “Sure, nice is one way to describe them,” I say teasingly, despite the hoarseness of my voice.
“Don’t be coy, Cap. I know you love ’em.” Shoving me playfully, he adds, “And they’re an ode to the app… Knockin’bootsandfirein my veins.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “So clever of you.”
Hollis snickers to himself before handing me one of the long-stem glasses. “Rosé, chilled, obviously.” Holding up his, he says, “To ditchin’ that ball and chain!” Then he clanks his glass to mine before taking a sip.
Another unexpected laugh rolls off my tongue.
“To ditchin’ the ball and chain,” I repeat before doing the same. Placing the drink on the table, I lift a brow as I fix my gaze on Hollis. “Could’ve gone with a more sympathetic toast.”
“Yeah, but this one made you laugh.” He shrugs, another boyish grin tugging into place before he stands. “I’m gonna make the popcorn. Open the puzzle, would you? So we can get started when I get back.”
I watch him saunter toward the kitchen, my brows pinched, but the ghost of a smile grazing my lips. “You’re not actually going to put this together with me, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, tossing me a quick glance over his shoulder.
“Do you even like puzzles?”
“I don’t know, but I like you.” The words flow out of him effortlessly, but they hit me right in the chest. My pulse races as I busy myself with removing the plastic from the box. Starting the microwave, Hollis spins around and rests his hip against the edge of the counter. “And I didn’t come here for me,” he says. “Came here for you.”
“Right.” Swallowing thickly, I nod. “And why is that?”
He snorts. “I already told you why. Wanted to take your mind off shit.”
