"Iknowwhat I said. Quit rubbing my nose in it, alright?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "But what about your waitressing job?"
"What about it?"
"So you dothatfor the money too, not–?"
"For the ego trip?" I gave a bark of laughter. "You ever work as a waitress? It's fucking hard work. I take shit all night long from people who act like they're better than me just because they're sitting down, and I'm standing up. I dress like some bimbo and act like I'm stupid, for God's sake."
I tugged at a strand of my hair. "You know how many times I've got to wash this to get the hairspray out? You think I'm doing this for some sort of ego trip." I made a sound of disgust. "That's rich."
I glanced around the neighborhood. "At least with this job, I get to dress how I want. And I get to live in a nice place where people treat me half-way decent."
His voice was very quiet. "And that's good enough for you?"
"It's gotta be. I've just got to keep doing what I'm doing, that's all."
"But Chloe," he said, "you don't need to. Not anymore."
"Oh yeah? Why not?"
"You just don’t."
The way he was looking at me, I'd seen it before. Too many times, in fact. I'd seen it on the faces of the rich girls in my class who went to Disney every winter. I'd seen it on the faces of my friends' parents when they offered me rides to places I couldn't afford.
It was that awful combination of surprise and pity. And I knew exactly what came next.
Lawton pushed a hand through his hair. "So, you want a loan or something? I mean, if you won't take money –" He blew out a breath. "All I'm saying is, you don't have to do this. Don't go back there, alright?"
I thought of my other options. My mom's shitty apartment? Yeah, because I just loved to listen to her and some random loser screw like monkeys in the apartment's only bedroom while I covered my head with a couch pillow.
Or how about my Dad's house? The place had four bedrooms, but none I was welcome in. Loretta had hated me from day one. She still hated me. And my Dad was a giant, pussy-whipped bastard who'd rather see his daughter sleep in the basement than make a ripple with his psycho second wife.
Or what about my own place? Oh, that's right. I couldn’t afford one.
I felt something warm encircle my body. Lawton's arms. He was holding me tight against his chest. "Baby, don't cry," he said. "I'm sorry. We'll work it out. You can move in with me, alright?"
I heard a sob. Oh, God, it was coming from me. I was crying. I almost never cried, and now, it seemed like I was crying all the time.
And I couldn’t help it. I leaned into him, soaking up his strength and the soothing sounds he made in my ear.
We stood like that for what seemed like a long time until my tears were spent and his shirt was soggy. And yet, I couldn't seem to make myself move.
Even through the soft cotton fabric, his chest was rock-hard against my cheek. I felt the muscles in his arms and the tightness of his stomach. It felt like a slice of heaven wrapped up in a perfect package, delivered just to make my life complete.
Erika was right. I should've been honest with him all along. Well maybe not all along, but certainly after we'd become intimate. I vowed that as soon as I got the chance, I'd call her and tell her how right she was.
"I've been such an idiot," I said. "I should've told you sooner." I gave a little laugh. "Like it's such a big deal, right?"
His body stiffened, as if the memory of our argument – correction, multiple arguments – were something he'd rather forget. And then, he clutched me tighter.
"Baby, I don't want you to do this with anyone else. Not ever."
I smiled through the tears. "Yeah?"
I felt him nod. "I mean it. Move in with me. Right now, today. This'll be our home. Together, alright?"
I clung to him, soaking up his strength and the unexpected offer. A real home. I couldn't even imagine. Then again, I guess I could. When I was with Lawton, I didn't feel like some sort of interloper. I felt like I belonged.
