Chapter Thirty-Seven – Verity
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
VERITY
M y uterus feels like it is going to murder me.
I curl into a tighter ball on the couch, distracting myself from the pain as much as I can. I’ve already downed the maximum number of pain meds, so all I can do is wait. This has happened every single month without fail since I was eleven.
This week has been an emotional rollercoaster as is, what with having to play nice with Frankie and not pee myself every time Celine walked into the bullpen.
Part of me is still worried that she saw me at the restaurant, that I wasn’t quick enough to hide.
My knees are still sore from smashing them on the tiles and then crawling out of the restaurant.
I’d looked like I had a few screws loose, and I doubt I would be able to go back there any time soon. Fancy places like that tend to remember people like me.
I still haven’t gotten the full story from Cullen, just a reassurance that Celine hadn’t been there because of me. It’s almost worse that it had been a coincidence that she showed up, like the world is telling me how fraught this relationship with Cullen is.
“Do you want me to refill your hot water bottle?” Hannah pokes her head out of her room.
“No, I’m just going to accept my slow death.”
The doorbell buzzes, and Hannah presses the button to let in whoever is outside the building without any questions.
“You expecting someone?”
“Kinda. I got something to make you feel better.”
“Unless it’s a shovel to magically dig out my uterus, I don’t want it.”
She pads over, sitting on the arm of the couch as she rakes her nails along the crown of my head, smoothing out my hair. She tucks a few stray tendrils behind my ears. I flinch when she even goes so far as to wipe her thumb under my eye.
“What are you doing?”
“You had a mascara smudge. I thought I told you that you always need to bake under your eyes if you’re going to put mascara on your bottom lashes.”
“You should be glad I even bothered with mascara today. I barely managed to lug my body into the office.”
My patience was thin all day—even Anne didn’t bug me about some follow-ups for Frankie’s final designs. We are getting close to closing out the project, which is all any of us wants.
There is a short rap at the door. Hannah bounces up, almost running to answer it. I pause the TV and uncurl my body as much as I can, trying to push aside the sharp pains as I crane my neck to see who it might be.
“Come in, come in. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” The masculine voice instantly sets me on edge.
“She’s on the couch.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises, my gut alerting me that something incredibly fishy is in the works.
Sure enough, that intuition is confirmed.
“Cullen?” I practically roll off the couch in panic. My knees hit the floorboards, and I let out a yelp. My eyes instantly prick with tears. I definitely just bruised them again.
I am quickly swept up into strong arms and placed back on the worn-out couch.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Cullen strokes my head, sincere eyes scanning me from head to toe. It soothes some of that anxiety away, forcing a sense of calm.
“What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t seem well this morning. I reached out to Hannah about it, and she let me know what was going on.”
Now I know why she took the time to tidy up my appearance. Not that it is going to do me a lot of good as I sit here in a ratty old college T-shirt and oversized sleep shorts, feeling like death.
Cullen, on the other hand, looks like a snack. He is a little more casual than normal in a pair of dark pants and a short-sleeved shirt. The weather has been warming up lately, and the free show I am getting from his biceps isn’t something I’d complain about.
Cullen holds up three large plastic bags, removing various goodies from within.
“I went to that ice cream place and got a pint of the pistachio mint flavor you love, fresh donuts from Chloe’s shop, takeout from the dumpling restaurant on Third, electrolytes, and an electronic foot massager.”
“I’m sorry, what was that last thing?”
“An electronic foot massager.” He begins unboxing the device, and I just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “Chlo got our parents one for Christmas last year, and they swear by it.”
“That’s sweet, but how does a foot massager help with menstrual cramps?”
He pauses for a second, the gears turning in his mind. “Hannah said it was a good idea, that it would help. Is that not the case? I can return it if you want.”
“No!” Hannah practically pounces for the box. “We want it.” My roommate then reaches a tentative hand out to the plastic bag holding the ice cream. “Did you get my honeycomb flavor?”
“Yeah, it’s in there.”
I quirk a brow at Hannah. “I’m beginning to think you invited my boyfriend over to exploit him.”
She lets out a mock scoff, pressing a palm to her chest. “Moi? Non. C’est impossible.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
She gathers up the plastic bag. “I’m just going to put this stuff in the freezer so it doesn’t melt.” I don’t miss her shoving the foot massager under her arm at the same time.
Cullen sits on the couch beside me, readjusting the blanket so it covers both of us before looping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. I tuck my legs under my ass and curl against his side, nuzzling into his familiar scent.
“Thanks for coming over. You didn’t have to.”
“I was worried.”
My chest warms.
“Still, I know you’re busy.”
“I will always make time for you.”
“Even if it’s just lounging around on the couch while I occasionally wince in pain?”
“Especially then.”
He kisses the top of my head, and I can’t help but smile.
I’ve come to learn that this is just the sort of person he is.
Cullen pays attention to the most mundane details, cementing them to memory.
He’s never afraid to go the extra mile, and I never realized how much that would mean to me until I met him.
I spent so much of my life putting on a brave face and trying to put one foot in front of the other that the concept of having someone so wholly focused on me removes a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying.
“What are you watching?” He grabs the remote and hits play.
The real estate reality show Hannah and I watch starts up, two brokers arguing because one of them slept with the other’s ex. It goes on for a minute before switching to one of the other cast members, who is in the process of selling a penthouse for 5.6 million dollars.
“Wait, is this that show? Manhattan something?”
“ Manhattan Millions .”
He lets out a short laugh. “You know, Sam was on this once.”
“Sam?”
“One of the other brokers at RARE Realty with me.”
“Which letter is he?”
“The other R, Sam Ryan.”
“That’s so cool! What was it like? Did he learn any juicy secrets?
Is it really unscripted or did they make him say stuff?
Hannah and I read all the gossip columns and it seems like there is some serious drama about to go down in the next few episodes.
One of the girls was seen out with her ex at a bar in Brooklyn the other week. ”
“Slow down,” he laughs. “He was only on there for a few minutes. One of the clients he’d been trying to win got snatched up by that blonde chick.
The seller wanted the notoriety of being on the show over picking Sam, who was by far the better agent.
There isn’t a place in SoHo he hasn’t been able to sell. ”
“If you guys are so good, why aren’t you on a show like this?” I tease.
“You think the Harver Group was the network’s first choice? They approached us two years ago, even tried to get me to move back to the city for filming.”
My jaw drops.
“What? You were invited to be on Manhattan Millions ? Are you serious? Why would you turn that down?”
“That sort of thing isn’t really my style. I don’t want my personal business streamed to strangers. Plus, I couldn’t move back.”
“Why not?”
Cullen is quiet for a moment. The silence stretches, just the noise of bickering from the reality show filling the space.
I don’t think he is going to answer my question. It’s something that has come up here and there, but he’s never gone into detail about it. I’ve gathered enough on my own to know that it has something to do with his divorce, but like most things pertaining to Celine, I don’t pry.
Since getting back together, we’ve kind of just ignored her as a topic. It’s probably not the healthiest thing to do in the long run, but it’s been working for us so far. After the incident at the restaurant, though, I can’t help but admit she’s been on my conscience more than I’d like.
“When Celine and I separated, it wasn’t pretty.”
His words are quiet and measured, barely registering over the sounds around us. I grab the remote, turning the volume down enough that I can hear him but not so much that our words will be able to reach Hannah in her room.
I snuggle back into his chest, resting my cheek on his pec. I figure it’ll be easier for him if he doesn’t feel the weight of my stare. His fingers curl up and down my arm in a calming motion as he speaks.