Chapter 16 #2
I ignored him, fastening my bra and slipping on my shirt.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, my anger simmering, ready to boil over.
He clearly wasn’t taking offense. He was far more interested in pissing me off.
Leeches? “Not everyone who doesn’t have money is a leech.
Some people in this world don’t have the opportunities, the talent or gene pool you did.
” I pulled on my underwear and jeans, my anger giving way to a wave of grief over all those lives I could have led if things were different—all those opportunities I hadn’t had.
I worked hard to make sure my sister could go to college and my parents always had a roof over their heads.
But it was hard. There wasn’t anything left for me after everyone else was taken care of and sometimes, I could admit, it felt thankless.
All Dexter was doing was reminding me of my responsibilities, and of how much I’d sacrificed to fulfill them.
I had to leave. A rumble of self-pity sounded in the distance and clouds of sadness gathered in my ribcage. If I didn’t get out of here, I was going to cry until I ran out of tears. And Jiminy Cricket, that was the last thing I wanted Dexter to see.
He came up behind me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that about your family. But it sounds like you go unappreciated. That’s all.”
His words were coaxing out my tears. “I have to go.” I scanned the floor, pretending to be looking for something so he wouldn’t see how upset I was.
“Seriously,” he said, grabbing my hand as I went past him. I tried to shake him off but he gripped my wrist tighter.
“I won’t have you—”
Before I had the chance to finish my sentence, he’d scooped me up, carried me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed, capturing my wrists on either side of my head.
“I need you to listen to me. Because this is getting out of hand. You’re overreacting.
I’m clearly being insensitive—I’m pushing every one of your buttons, and I have no clue what’s really going on. ”
“Just get off me,” I said, squirming underneath him. Anger would be easier. Tears would be far more difficult to explain.
“I want to talk,” he said as he released me. “I don’t want you running out when we’re having an argument I don’t understand. I was trying to do something nice and you’re upset and angry and I want to resolve this.”
I didn’t move from where he’d left me. He was a jerk for calling my family leeches, even if sometimes it felt like my parents could do more to help themselves.
On a sigh, he grabbed the scarf and tossed it in the trash. “Sod the fucking scarf. I wish I’d never listened to Stella.”
My skin seemed to shrivel as if I’d been dunked in an ice-cold lake.
I’d hurt his feelings, been rude to the one person who had my back.
Dexter probably thought I was being spoiled.
He couldn’t know that a kind and thoughtful gift would stir up so much in me.
“It just felt a bit weird,” I said, my voice small.
I slid my gaze sideways, barely able to look at him.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, raking his fingers through his hair.
He was too gorgeous. Too kind. Too good to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for him and then pulling my hand away, concerned he’d flinch if I touched him.
“Maybe I’m scared I’m going to get used to .
. .” Him? Anyone other than Autumn being so good to me?
A life that I knew I was going to have to walk away from? “You’re just really nice to me.”
“And you’re really nice to me. Normally.”
How could he even think that? What had I done for him? “I am not.”
“What do you mean you’re not?” He turned toward me, shaking his head. “Really, Hollie, you are. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“Come on, Dexter. Look at everything you’ve done for me. The job, the salary, now the scarf. It’s a lot. And maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not used to some billionaire saving my ass all the time. It’s not something many girls at the Sunshine Trailer Park are used to.”
“Don’t you see that you do nice things for me too? You make food for me most nights and you’re the most amazing cook. When you’ve been here, I always find a vase of flowers on the kitchen side or—”
“Dexter, the roses I buy cost me five pounds from Tesco and I’ve only done it twice.”
“The money doesn’t matter, Hollie. You’re being kind. You’re giving. I might buy you a Hermes scarf, but I have more money than you. It’s the thought behind it—the intention.” He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have . . .”
I hadn’t thought about how the cooking and the flowers could be thought of as giving.
It seemed like nothing in comparison to what he’d given me, though I supposed it was.
But it wasn’t a big deal. I was happy to do it—I enjoyed it.
“I like cooking. I like that you like it. And I didn’t even realize you noticed the flowers,” I replied.
His flat was gorgeous, like something you’d see in a magazine.
Cheap flowers probably made it look worse, not better.
“I don’t want you to freak out, but you just said yourself that you don’t even realize when you’re giving, when you’re doing nice things for people.
It’s ingrained in you. You’re so used to it that you don’t even see it.
Usually between people, it’s a two-way street—both parties are nice to each other. I’m just not sure that’s your normal.”
“Maybe that’s true,” I said. “And maybe the reason I was so upset is that I can’t be anyone other than who I am.
I’m always going to be the girl from Nowheresville, Oregon.
I’m never going to be some sophisticated city girl who went to college, majored in marketing and then got a job in New York City.
Even if I got out of Sunshine someday, it wouldn’t erase who I am.
For me, a Hermes scarf will never not be a big deal. ”
“I think who you are is kind of wonderful,” he said and my heart lifted a little, trying to find a foothold to burst out of my chest and give itself to this man in front of me.
How had I found him?
“I’m really sorry for acting crazy.” I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled him toward the bed. I didn’t want to fight anymore.
“You’re a good person, Hollie. And I’m really sorry. I wasn’t trying to cast aspersions on your parents—”
I couldn’t help but laugh despite feeling as if I were in a heap of limbs at the end of a fairground ride. “‘Cast aspersions?’ You’re so British.”
“I can’t help that.” He circled his arms around my waist. “But seriously, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. Quite the opposite.” We sat for what felt like ages, Dexter’s arms around me and our breaths the only sound surrounding us. “Don’t leave tonight.” He buried his head in my neck.
I was dressed now, and I would normally leave before midnight anyway. “I should go home.”
“You could stay the night, you know. Go home tomorrow morning if it makes you feel better not to go straight to the office from here.”
Despite my initial instinct to run, right now I wanted to spend the night in his arms.
“You promise not to return the scarf?” I said, a small smile curling around my mouth.
“With what I’ve got planned to do to you with it, I’m not sure Hermes would take it.”
There was no way I was going to let him ruin such a beautiful thing.
I pushed away from him and retrieved the scarf, folded it quickly, slipped it back in the box and put it on the seat under the window.
“Well, that’s not going to work for me. No one’s ever given me anything quite so beautiful and I’m not going to let you ruin it.
” Even if I never had an opportunity to wear the scarf, I’d keep it.
I’d take it home and put it in my memory box.
If I ended up retiring at the Sunshine Trailer Park, I could bring it out and remember that one summer in London when the most amazing guy in the world thought I had peacock-colored eyes.