Chapter Eighteen
O ne of the grocery sacks slipped from Aubrey's grasp. She leaned against the door to keep the eggs from breaking. "Serge!"
He stuck his head around the corner and lunged for the bag. "Got it."
"Whew." She laughed. "Breakfast tomorrow is saved."
He peered inside. "What did you buy?"
"Everything." She walked past him on the way to the kitchen. "There are more groceries in the car. I took stock of your cabinets and pantry last night. It was in bad shape. From now on we're eating at home if I'm staying here at night."
"Home, huh?" He looked inside a bag and pulled out a sack of rice.
"You know what I mean." She moved the egg carton out of the way. "Speaking of my home, I need to go over there and clean out my fridge. The food is probably spoiling. I should've thought of that and taken it to the food pantry so it wouldn't go to waste."
After one full week of staying with Serge every night, she refused to order food in again. She picked up the brick of cheese and put it in the fridge.
He lifted a box of noodles and shook the container. "Do you like to cook?"
"Yeah." She closed the fridge. "It's relaxing to me and healthier than eating in restaurants. Haven't you paid attention to the statistics? Everyone's cholesterol is sky high these days because of processed food. Think of eating at home as extending your life."
He growled or groaned, she wasn't sure. She turned around. "What?"
"I never think about what'll happen tomorrow." He opened a bag of chocolate chips she'd bought and ripped it open. After pouring some in his mouth, he grinned. "Half the time, I'm surprised I'm still alive."
She hid the hurt his confession caused. "I'll go out and get the other–"
"Stay. I'll get the groceries." He dug a few more chocolate bits out of the bag and winked. "I'm hungry. I hope you bought more junk food."
"We're going healthy. I'll get started on dinner once I have everything put away." She carried a sack to the pantry.
Hidden from his view, she stacked the supplies she had bought and stepped back to admire the cozy scene before her. How ironic to plan for a future with Serge when he had no idea she belonged in his tomorrow. She understood his way of dealing with life and not worrying about clogging his arteries, but he wasn't alone anymore. He included her in his day-to-day life and his tomorrow, whether he admitted it or not.
She was getting used to having him in her life. He'd given her things she always dreamed about.
No one touched her while she was growing up. No hugs, no goodnight kisses, no lingering hand on her forehead when she got sick. Whether Serge showed her a firm hand or held her tenderly at night, a touch was still a touch.
"This is everything," he called from the other room.
She walked out of the pantry and shut the door. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he said, depositing the sacks on the counter.
"Do you think less of me because I enjoy what you do to me?" She pulled one of the bags closer to her. "I'm talking about if you only knew me as the owner of a homeless shelter, and you knew some other guy was treating me–"
"There is no other guy in your life," he said.
"I know that. I'm just creating a scene for you to understand what I'm asking. Pretend you knew that Joe Blow tied me up and spanked me. Would you still think I'm a successful business owner and respect what I've done in my life?" She removed the produce from the plastic sacks and set the vegetables on the counter by the sink.
"It'd be none of my business." He dug through the bag. "Did you buy any chips?"
"No." She sighed heavily. "The thing is, if I knew...say Evie, Sia's mom, had a boyfriend and I noticed bruises or heard rumors her male friend used sex to prove a point to her, I'd talk to her. I'd worry. I'd do anything in my power to help her get away from him."
"You wouldn't do a thing, because it's none of your business." He braced his hands on the counter. "I thought we were clear on this particular subject. You won't go back to the camp."
"I won't. I'm just trying to have a conversation with you." She frowned, unsure if he was taking her seriously or not. "I want you to think about my question. It has to do with you and me, not Evie. I was only using her as an example." She folded the paper sack.
"There was no question. Our relationship is no one's business. You don't divulge anything about what happens between us to others, so they'll never know what we do together. I don't see what your problem is," he said.
She took a skillet from the overhead hanger and clanked it against the burner of the stove. "Most people have vanilla sex." She shrugged. "It doesn't include some of the things we've done. You're...rough."
He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "What's the problem? You like it."
"I do," she whispered.
"Then there's no problem." He kissed her. "Stop thinking I'm going to force you to do something you'll hate."
"I guess as long as you don't order me to go to that underground sex club a few blocks from the shelter, we're fine," she muttered.
"That's not funny." He glared over his shoulder. "I don't share. Ever."
"Thank God you have boundaries," she mumbled, sarcastically.
"When it comes to you, that fucking boundary is all around you. No one can get in and take what's mine." He kissed her again.
Butterflies took flight. She watched him leave the room with the bag of chocolate chips and smiled. He made her happy.