He grabs my chin and forces my eyes on him, shaking his head in frustration. “You think your friend is dead because of what you did to me seven yearsago?”
Has he even beenlistening?
“How could I not? Look at the similarities, Cary.” I raise my hand and begin to tick my points off on my fingers. “Both involve accidents where I’m the driver. Both times I was high. Both times I ruined someone’s life that I cared about. The only difference is that this time I paid for it.” I’m still holding three fingers up between us as I lower my voice, “Some would say not nearlyenough.”
He’s restless. I can feel his body twitch against me. After such a damning confession, I expect him to roll off me. Instead, his dark eyebrows lift and then pinch together. “Shiloh, don’t you know? You lived to do something. Don’t waste it feeling sorry foryourself.”
“I paid off yours and your parents’ debts to theMcDaniels.”
I’m ready for explosive anger, but he gives me something even worse—calmness.
“You didwhat?”
“Please don’t argue with me over this, Cary. It’s done, and you can’t make me take it back. Now you don’t have to worry about them.” I don’t know what to else to say, so I say nothing, rolling my lips over my teeth and squeezing my eyesshut.
“You went to see Mitch McDaniel?Alone?”
I nod behind the safety of my closed eyes and rush to speak before he can. “You’d be surprised how agreeable an asshole can be when he’s handed two checks that total almost a million dollars.” Risking his anger, I open one eye and take in his shocked expression. “And don’t even think about refusing it because I’m sure he’s already cashedthem.”
“God, your timing sucks. Especially since I…” Trailing off, he groans and presses his palms over his face. “Shiloh, you’ve got to stop acting like you owe the damn universe some unpaid debt. You’re not an evil person. You’ve just always chosen what’s easy instead of what’s worthit.”
I pop an eye open. “Do you think I’m worthit?”
“Worthwhat?”
“Forgiving?”
He gazes at me, bracing all his weight on one forearm while waiting for me to open the other eye. Once I do, he brushes his thumb across my lips, and I stare back at him, hypnotized by his rhythmic movements over my mouth—until his thumb slides across my face and traces the jagged scar on my cheek. My hand flies up to stop him, but he’s too quick and lifts his elbow to blockme.
“Can you forgiveyourself?”
I want to give him the right answer. Instead, I give him an honest one. “Maybesomeday.”
He hovers his lips just above mine. Not quite touching, but so close even a breath can’t pass between them. “Metoo.”
I smile, and he finally kisses me. Not like the frantic kisses from last night, but slow, deliberate licks, like he’s drinking me in. Savoringme.
His hardness is already nudging at my entrance, so I wrap my legs around him, and sigh against his lips. No words are spoken as Cary takes me slowly with purposeful strokes until my mouth opens for a soundless scream. My fingernails dig into his back as he grips my hair, dropping his face into the hollow of my neck and groaning my name as his bodyjerks.
Sometime hours later, as I watch him sleep, the last two words he said to me float through myhead.
“Metoo.”
That’s the closest I’m going to get to forgiveness. I’ll take it and run with it. Because even though he hasn’t given me his trust, he’s given mehope.
And that’s good enough forme.
Twenty-Seven
Shiloh
My cheeks hurtfrom smiling so much. You’d think since smiling is what I do for a living, my face would be used to it. However, a photoshoot only lasts a few hours. Once it’s over, my natural resting bitch face reclaims its rightfulplace.
Seven days of cheerfulness is a concept I’m not quite sure how to navigate. Back in California, if Lena caught me constantly grinning like this, she’d probably throw holy water on me and seek out the nearest exorcist. Here, I’m on my own to figure out how to handle this being happything.
Not that marathon sex every night doesn’t make the issue much easier to simplify. In fact, after waking up in Cary’s bed every morning this week, I’ve decided that accepting things for what they are may be just what gets me through the next few years. I was even pleasant when I fired my publicist for his press release stunt. I think my mood scared him more than the actual firing part. I’m not known forkindness.
Here’s another example of how happiness can make you do shit that makes you wonder if you’ve been possessed by a demon. Cary told me last night that the health inspector was coming before lunch today, and I volunteered to have Malcolm pick me up in order to come in at six a.m. and do some last-minutecleaning.
