He places the keys on the coffee table then pivots and walks toward my kitchen as if he owns the place. Shit, the way his massive frame takes up space, he does, actually. His physical presence seems to absorb all of the oxygen in the space and my lungs burn.
Or maybe that’s because of the growing realization that I’ve lost him. I’ve lost Edward. Had I ever had him? And he never told me that he isn't returning, but the sick sensation at the bottom of my stomach insists that he won't be anytime soon. My palms sweat and my chest hurts. I sit up and the world swims around me again.
"I told you to stay put," he chides as he appears from the direction of the kitchen. He squats down in front of me, handing me a glass of water.
I take it and drink from it, upturn the glass, but he grips my wrist. "Not too much or it’ll make you sick again."
I lower it, glance through my eyelashes at him. He takes the glass from me, places it on the table.
"How are you feeling now?" He searches my face.
"Better," I mutter. "I need to brush my teeth."
He peruses my features then nods, rises to his feet, and scoops me up with him.
"I can walk," I protest.
He simply stalks into the bedroom, putting me down at the entrance to the bath.
I step inside, turn to shut the door to find him standing, hands folded, a stillness about him that is at odds with just how alert his eyes are.
"You can go," I mumble, "I’ll be fine."
He doesn’t move. Not so much as blinks an eye.
"Whatever." I sigh, then close the door and lock it. Not that I don’t trust him. Okay, I don’t trust him. So what if he saved me from hurting myself, then hauled me back in here and made sure I was hydrated? I’d trusted Edward and what did he do…? He broke his vows for me. He fucked me. OMG, he took my virginity and then left me. He’s not coming back, and once more, I’ve screwed up my life.
I had gone after the impossible. He’d been a priest, for hell’s sake. Why did I have to fall for him? Why had I been so attracted to him that I couldn’t conceivably want anyone else but him? Of course. Not only had I spoiled my career by leaving behind the safety of a degree and a possible nine-to-five job, but then I also had to go after a completely unsuitable man. Typical Eve.
Eve.Now I’m calling myself Eve? My heart seems to shatter. I crumple to the floor, hide my face in my hands and begin to weep. Large sobs that hurt my chest, fill my throat, and overflow until I am sure I am going to shatter into a million pieces, and every one of them would still cry,Edward.Get over the dramarama, bitch.Clearly, I’ve been reading too many romance novels if I am becoming so over-the-top sentimental. But damn him, he broke my heart.
In such a short period of time, he’d crawled under my skin, and imprinted himself into my soul in a way… A way that only a man of God could have. Someone who was in service of a higher purpose than himself. Shit, what am I thinking? Why am I making excuses for him, when all he’s done since I met him is give me second place in his life? He may have broken his vows for me, but then he left, and I simply cannot fathom why. Hell, maybe it wasn’t even for me that he broke his vows. I may not know what happened, but clearly, there was something bothering him when he got here.
More tears well up and my pulse thuds at my temples. A banging sound fills my head and I am sure it is my heart pounding in my ears, but then a male voice calls behind me, "Open up, or I swear, I am going to break down this door."
"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." I scramble up, grab hold of a hand towel and wipe my face with it.
The banging increases in urgency, then the sound of a shoulder crashing against the bathroom door reaches me.
"Stop," I yelp as I rush toward it. The last thing I need is for the door to be broken down. The bloody landlord would definitely take it out of my deposit. I reach the doorway, yank it open and come face to face with Mr. Grumpy Pants himself.
"What’s your problem?" I snap.
"You," he looks me up and down, "you’re my problem."
"Jesus." I gape at him. "You insult me in my own home? If you hadn’t helped me earlier—which, by the way, wasn’t required. I can take care of myself, but you did and I am grateful for it, but now you can leave."
"No."
"What?"
"I’m not going anywhere," he informs me. "Not until you have a shower and get a good breakfast. You need it after your crying jag."
"Crying jag." I flush. Of course, he heard me weeping my stupid heart out. Why the hell does he care how I feel? Why is he so concerned about me? "Who the hell are you anyway?" I scowl. "You’re seriously giving me the creeps, the way you’ve barged into my life."
"And you are getting antsy for no reason." He holds up his arms. "You can pat me down if you want. You’ll see I’m not dangerous."
Dangerous? He doesn’t need weapons to be dangerous.
