Chapter Twenty-Eight Lorenzo
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lorenzo
I wake up the next morning groggy and aroused, all thanks to Lily, who at some point during the night threw herself on top of me like a weighted blanket. Her thigh is draped over my erection, while her head is tucked underneath my chin, rising and falling with my shallow breaths.
I’m afraid to wake her up by moving, but I’m equally fearful of staying in bed because what happens once she finds herself wrapped around me like this?
You need to go . I will myself to get up, but there is something comforting about Lily’s embrace. Multiple somethings, like the weight of her body. The familiar smell of her lotion sticking to my skin. The sweet little murmurs she makes in her sleep, the phrases incoherent.
I should categorize my curious reaction as just that. Curiosity . But I know that it’s much deeper than that, and I allow myself to explore it for a few blissful moments.
She makes me feel trusted, although she has every reason not to. Protective, because she looks so damn innocent cradled in my arms. And the most toxic feeling of all, so damn possessive that I want to be the only one she ever wakes up beside again.
Whoa. No.
Feeling possessive of Lily might feel right , but that doesn’t change how it is all wrong for our situation.
We have a deal, and it’s up to me to uphold it for the sake of my campaign and my sanity because once the obsessive thoughts start, the compulsions follow soon after, and an unhealthy cycle is born.
It physically pains me to leave our hotel room in search of the gym, but I need some distance. Except in the middle of my run, an image of Lily wandering around Chicago by herself flashes in front of my eyes.
In a rush, I’m hopping off the treadmill and heading to our room.
I need to confirm she didn’t run off or something , I say while tapping the elevator button.
You wouldn’t want her to get lost or hurt or worse , the voice replies, and my stomach sinks.
What’s worse than getting hurt?
And now I’m thinking of apocalyptic-level scenarios, and I blame all Lily’s true crime podcasts for the vivid imagination.
Maybe I need to buy a tracking bracelet or something so I can check on her from afar.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll order one as soon as I get back to the room.
The voice in my head is suddenly silent, and instead of being relieved, I only feel dread, knowing it got exactly what it wanted—a new compulsion to add to its growing collection, and one that will evolve the longer I’m in Lily’s company.
That much I can guarantee.
Good news: Lily is still in our hotel room. The bad? She is sitting on the couch, weeping into her hands, her body shaking from the intensity of her sobs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, horrified by the tears running down her face.
She bristles before shaking her head. “Nothing.”
I grab a tissue and pass it to her, hoping it helps me feel less useless.
It doesn’t.
She doesn’t look up from her hands to see it, so I pull them down and wipe at the corners of her eyes, where her mascara started running. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Why do you care?” She looks up at me with those watery eyes of hers that threaten my self-control.
“I already told you yesterday—you’re important to me.” Whether I like it or not.
“How am I supposed to trust you after everything that’s happened?”
“You don’t have to, but if you choose to anyway, I’ll work on doing the same.” I take a deep breath and hold it before adding, “I don’t like seeing you cry or upset. It makes me feel helpless, and as someone who craves control, that is…difficult.”
Admitting the truth aloud must’ve done the trick because Lily finally opens up about Daisy.
I know most of the details already, but I pretend I don’t.
I soak up her emotions, from the brightness in her eyes when she talks about visiting Daisy to the way they glisten when she mentions someone wanting to adopt her on Monday.
I’ve spent most of my life being an emotional escape artist because feelings feed my anxiety. But with Lily, I’m more affected by her unhappiness than my own worries, and I’m driven by the desire to solve her problems.
“Do you want to adopt her?” I ask.
“I can’t.” Her voice cracks. “My mom’s allergic.”
“What about Rafa? He has a farm full of animals.”
She shakes her head. “He’s got enough going on with the ones he adopted.”
“What’s one more?”
She lets out a soft laugh, and it eases some of the pressure in my lungs like someone thrust a chest tube inside me.
“It’s too much. He already told me so. Twice .” A single tear rolls down her face, and I wipe it away, only for another to replace it.
More continue to fall, ruining my efforts to stop them. “I knew she’d find a home because she’s the sweetest, cutest girl.” Impossible . “But…” Her voice cracks, along with my resolve.
Fuck .
I take a step back and brush my hands through my wet hair. I never imagined adopting a dog after the traumatic experience that happened with my last one, but I’m not opposed to the idea if it makes Lily happy.
If that is considered selfish, so be it. My actions will be balanced out by all of Lily’s selfless ones, like two weighing scales striving for karmic equilibrium.
“I’ll contact the vet,” I say, a bit too gruff.
She turns to look at me with wide eyes. “What?”
“I want to meet Daisy and see what’s so special about her.” Technically that is true.
“Why?”
I ignore her question and head to my suitcase. It’s organized with the dirty clothes tucked into a separate bag, but I make a show of refolding my clean clothes.
She places a hand on my shoulder and wills me to turn around.
I don’t.
“Lorenzo,” she says in that too-sweet voice of hers.
You will not yield, no matter how sweet she sounds.
I start counting my underwear because why did I pack ten pairs for a two-night stay? Did I plan to shit myself multiple times?
Unfortunately Lily doesn’t give up. “Since when do you want to adopt a pet?”
“It’s a recent interest.” Now stop asking me any more questions , I silently beg.
I should’ve known it was a wasted effort because she probes some more.
“Don’t do this for me.”
“I’m not.” I’m doing this for me, the person whose mental health will benefit from her no longer crying.
And who knows? Maybe I’ll grow to enjoy Daisy’s company in my big, empty house.
Lily and I meet up with Julian and Dahlia for brunch before we split up again, this time the girls going off on their own. I’d rather hang out by myself than spend the afternoon with Julian Lopez of all people, but he won’t leave my side.
“You good?” I ask when he pauses at the entrance of the first jewelry store on my list.
He looks around the sales floor, his face turning progressively paler. “Please tell me you’re looking at buying Lily some diamond earrings.”
“Has she mentioned wanting some to you?”
“Yes. It’s a running joke by now.”
“Then I’ll add them to my list.”
“You have a list ?” He looks yearningly at a nearby trash can.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing. An enthusiastic employee introduces herself, and after I tell her what I’m looking for, she is all too happy to show me their engagement ring options.
Julian looks ready to pass out, so I ask if someone can bring him a chair.
“This better be a fucking prank.” He must not trust his legs either because he happily takes a seat.
I ignore him and focus on the dazzling rings.
“Lorenzo.”
“Julian.”
“This is all moving way, way too fast. Maybe you need to slow down—”
“The only opinion I’m interested in is which ring you think Lily would like most.”
He checks out all the rings before shaking his head. “None of them.”
I frown. “There has to be something here she’d like. This is the best store in all of Chicago.”
He stares at the display full of the whitest, clearest diamonds money can buy. “It’s not the store. It’s the color .”
The employee pauses. “Would she prefer something like an emerald or sapphire?”
Julian glances up at me. “If he can’t answer that question, then he shouldn’t be proposing.”
Did I get outsmarted at my own game by Julian motherfucking Lopez?
No. I refuse.
Think, Lorenzo , I tell myself, refusing to fail Julian’s test. He gave me a clue at least, so if a traditional diamond isn’t what Lily wants, then there must be another color.
I can’t see her wanting a sapphire—that much I know—while an emerald is trickier. She likes green, given the color of flower stems, so I mention it to the jeweler.
“We could do a peekaboo emerald in the band,” she mentions, and I shake my head and think about the main diamond.
Pink is my favorite neutral , she wrote on her dating profile, and I want to smack my own forehead at ever questioning my abilities to guess what Lily would like.
“What kind of gemstones come in pink?”
There’s a little glint in Julian’s eyes that tells me I’m on the right path, and I’ve never felt better about proving him wrong.
So much for him hoping I wouldn’t be able to answer the question.
Asshole .
“Pink?” The jeweler balks. “We’ve got sapphires and diamonds here, although the diamonds are significantly more expensive.”
“Perfect. I want to see everything you have.”
I must pass Julian’s test with flying colors because he remains tight-lipped, stewing in silence as he processes me becoming an integral part of his life.
Till the election do Lily and I part.