15. The Importance of Grilled Cheese
AS MUCH AS I like the thought of lying in bed next to a naked Piper, I have to admit, I like seeing her curled up in something of mine even more. Especially if it’s my bed she’s curled up in.
“I should—”
“Eat something.” I cut her off. I know what she was about to say. She tried to suggest leaving earlier, and I’m still not quite ready to let that happen. “Come downstairs and I’ll make you dinner.”
“I’ve already had dinner.” She checks her watch. “And it’s after midnight.”
“Guess we’ll have to call it breakfast then.”
Christian has made jokes about my kitchen being unfit to make a woman breakfast more times than I can count. He must not have been paying attention if he thought I was in the habit of letting them hang around long enough to eat breakfast.
For a long time, I went to great lengths to keep myself from getting too close to any of the women I spent time with. Then I decided I wanted more and faced a new issue—finding someone I wanted more from.
For years I thought I’d never find her. That what I wanted didn’t exist. Little did I know when she finally crossed my path I’d fuck myself by hiring her.
Piper seems to mull over my offer, and it makes me worry I’ve got yet another night alone in my future. So I decide to sweeten the deal. “And maybe you can pick out a few paint colors for when we get back from Arkansas.”
Even though the trip will give me lots of time with Piper, there are parts of it I’m not looking forward to. I don’t want to step back in time, suffer through being surrounded by men who are too much like my father. I also don’t want to lose time working on my house.
Now that I’ve finally started on it, it’s almost become an obsession. I stay up working on it until I’m falling over from exhaustion. When I’m not working on it, I’m thinking about working on it. Imagining what it will be like when it’s finally finished. How long it will take me to convince Piper to share it with me.
“Do you think you’ll be ready to paint that soon?” When she scoots to the end of the bed and rises without trying to put her own clothes back on, I know I have her.
“I was finishing up the last coat of mud when you came over. Once it’s dry, I’ll give it a light sand, and then we can prime and paint.” I wait for her to reach my side. “We should probably start thinking about flooring too.”
“You’re saying we an awful lot.” Piper lifts her brows. “Almost like you’re expecting me to do manual labor.”
Fuck. That’s not at all where I was going with that. “I didn’t mean—”
Piper laughs, the sound light and easy. “I’m just giving you shit.” She moves out into the hall, her limp a little more pronounced tonight than it was during the day. “I don’t mind helping.” Her eyes roam the walls as we move down the stairs. “It might be kinda fun. I enjoyed painting furniture.” Her eyes slide my way. “And working on my car.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind learning how to do more stuff.”
“We might be learning together, because I’m sure as hell not a professional.” I can do a lot of shit, but I’ve never laid flooring or tiled a backsplash. “I could probably ask Christian to help us.”
“I thought you said you can learn just about anything on YouTube?” Piper reaches the bottom of the steps, pausing to lean most of her weight on her good foot. “I like Christian and all, but I feel like he would be neurotic about shit being perfect.”
I would laugh at her accurate assessment if it wasn’t for the pinched look of pain tightening her features. “He is a perfectionist when it comes to this kind of thing.” I move closer as I shift the conversation. “Your foot hurts.”
Piper blows out a breath, her shoulders dropping as it rushes free. “My foot always hurts.” She takes a step, wincing. “They told me I might end up with arthritis in the area, but I expected that to be years down the road.” Her lips press into a frown. “I really thought once the cast came off I’d be back to normal. I guess that was just wishful thinking.”
“I would have expected the same thing.”
I don’t let her take another step. Scooping Piper up bridal style, I carry her through the house and into what will eventually be my dining room. I had to relocate my kitchen station—along with the sofa and television from the family room—while I hung drywall in that room, so for the time being, the dining room holds it all.
I carefully set her onto the sofa before shifting the lever at the side to lift her legs. “You need to stay off it as much as you can.”
When Piper’s settled, I go to the corner housing my fridge, microwave, and other countertop appliances, along with the sink I rigged up using the backside of the pipes feeding the kitchen. “I’ll order a counter height chair for you to use at the front desk when we get back.”
“When do you think we’ll be back?” Piper’s lingering uncertainty is obvious. If not to her, definitely to me.
“Not sure.” On one hand I’m hoping this trip will be quick. I want to get in and out without spending too much time in a world I left behind. On the other hand, I’ll have Piper all to myself. At my side, pretending to be my wife. Sleeping beside me at night.
Hopefully in that same shirt.
My fridge is pretty bare—another thing I’m planning to change—but I do have the basics. I grab a few slices of packaged cheese, the tub of margarine, and what’s left of my bread, carrying it to the griddle plugged into a power strip that’s plugged into an extension cord.
“If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to touch base with the women right away and set up a plan to get them the hell out of there.” I slather four slices of bread with margarine and sandwich them around the cheese. Leaving them to cook, I pull out the same ice packs I put on Piper’s leg after the show last week. “If we’re not lucky, we’ll have to hunt them down and risk drawing attention to ourselves.”
After grabbing a coke from the fridge, I toss a dish towel over my shoulder and carry the ice packs to where she sits, offering her the drink before working the brace off her foot. I frown down at her creased skin, looking at her other ankle to confirm what I’m seeing. “It’s swollen.”
“That happens some days. Especially when I’ve been busy and haven’t sat down much.” She stiffens when I drape the towel over her ankle then settle the cold packs on top of it. “Shit that’s cold.”
Knowing I’m partly responsible for Piper’s condition has my molars grinding together. “You should have told me. I would have—”
“It’s fine.” Piper tries to pull her leg away, but my grip on her calf is tight. “Seriously. I’m perfectly fine. It’s just a little swelling. It’ll be back to normal by morning.”
“So all the swelling and pain will be magically gone overnight?” I know she’s full of shit and I want to hear her admit it. I want her to know she can tell me anything. That I will help with all of it.
That I already see it anyway.
“Why does it matter?” She tries to scoot away, still attempting to wrestle free of my hold.
“Because you need to take care of yourself, Piper. If you keep pushing yourself like this it’s never going to heal.” I know she’s stubborn, but she’s also independent. “And it could get worse. Then you’ll be back where you started. Needing someone to help you with everything.”
I saw how much she hated that. How pissed she was when someone had to carry her plate at family dinner or help her get up and down from the couch. Maybe the fear of going back to that time will be enough to get her to take care of herself.
Or let me do it for her.
Piper’s eyes flash wide. “Like hell.”
The scent of browning bread forces me to get up. “Then leave the ice on there and just fucking relax.” I barely make it to our sandwiches in time, flipping them right before they move from toasted to burnt. “I know you don’t like it, but we all have to do shit we don’t want to do sometimes.”
“Is that why you’ve been working on finishing your house?” Her question is almost challenging. Like she thinks she already knows the answer but wants to hear me say it.
So I do. “No. That’s not why I’m working on my house.”
I move to the fridge, buying myself a little more time, because I know what will happen when I tell her the real reason I”ve been working so hard.
Everything will change.
But hasn”t it already? Haven”t I already thrown away all my ethics—all my rules—for her? How much worse can it get if Piper finds out she”s the reason I”m doing this too?
I sift through the handful of containers on the top shelf before retrieving the one I want. Popping off the lid, I stir around the pasta salad one of the mechanics made and add a serving to each of our plates. I can almost feel Piper”s energy shift behind me. I know what she”s going to ask and I know when she”s going to ask it.
”Then why are you finishing it?”
I slide one grilled cheese onto each plate, dropping a fork next to them both before turning to face her, needing to see her reaction. ”I”m finishing it because I want you to have somewhere you can be comfortable.”
There”s no flash of surprise on her face. No shock pinching her pretty features. Because she already knew.
I hand her one of the plates and ease down beside her, leaning to adjust the ice pack on her ankle as she continues staring at me. If she”s waiting for me to elaborate, she’ll have to keep waiting. I”ve already shown her too much tonight, and I”m afraid if I offer any more, her chances of ever making it back next door will be slim to none.
And I won”t do that to her. I chose to live like this, she didn”t. I fully intend to have Piper in my home, but not until she would consider it a home too.
Piper’s gaze finally leaves me, dropping to the plate in her hands. She looks it over for a few long seconds before saying, ”You don”t cut your grilled cheese.”
I shrug, picking mine up and taking a big bite, relieved at the shift in conversation. ”Do most people?”
Her mouth barely curves into some semblance of a sad smile. ”I think so. When I was little, my mom cut mine into four pieces, and I loved eating those little triangles.”
Again, I can sense the shift in her. Piper wears her emotions on her sleeve. That”s probably why she spews so much anger and sarcasm. She hopes the thick layer will hide what”s underneath. ”Sounds like you might have eaten a lot of grilled cheese when you were little.”
Piper’s sad smile holds. ”Actually, my mom made all kinds of things when I was little, and she always made sure everything was fun for me to eat.” A shadow moves across her eyes. ”But then...”
I want more. I want whatever the fuck she’ll give me. I”m desperate to possess all the pieces of Piper. Not so I can put them back together again—I know from experience that”s not possible—so I can keep them safe. Make sure not a single one of them gets broken again.
But I won”t push for it. I only want them if she”s willing to give them to me.
Piper clears her throat, sitting up a little straighter as she blows out a long breath. ”Then she got married, and everything changed.” She tears off a vicious bite of the sandwich I made her, chewing as if it personally attacked her.
And maybe it fucking had.
”When I was a kid, a lot of what we ate came from the food bank. It wasn”t always the freshest, so I guess technically my grilled cheese was cut too, but it was to get rid of the mold around the edges of the bread.” I’m not telling her this to make her feel bad for me. I”m telling her this to offer something back. A piece of myself since I now own a piece of her. ”Sometimes it was all I would eat for weeks straight. Grilled cheese for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
Piper”s brows pinch together. ”Why do you still eat it then? Aren’t you sick of grilled cheese?”
I stare down at my sandwich. At the fresh bread and cheese. ”I eat them because they help me see how far I’ve come but also remember where I came from.” I pick it up and take another bite, swallowing it down before continuing. ”And remind me I never want to go back there again.”
Piper”s eyes hold mine a few seconds before they slowly drift away, moving around my unfinished dining room. ”Is that why your house is this way? To remind you?”
I almost laugh at how fucking stupid I was to think I”d ever had a chance against this woman. She”s too perceptive. Too insightful.
Too capable of seeing what I”ve tried so hard to hide.
”Partly.” I leave it at that because the rest of the reason is even more complicated.
And something I”m going to have to face. Soon.
I tip my head at her plate. ”Eat so you can take some ibuprofen. You need something in your stomach so it doesn”t upset it.”
Piper rolls her eyes, but this time the gesture is more playful and accompanied by a smile. ”Fine.”
”I”m not trying to tell you what to do, Piper. I just don”t like seeing you in pain.” I hope she understands I would never try to control her. Never.
Piper shoots me a grin as she picks up her fork and takes a bite of the pasta salad. ”I know you”re not trying to tell me what to do.” Her smile sweetens to the point it could spike my insulin as she leans closer and angles the tines of her utensil my way. ”If I thought that, I would have already stabbed you with your own fork.”