Chapter Twelve
Robby
I have to see her again. Absolutely fucking have to. My restless hands grip the steering wheel.
I’ll suffocate if I don’t.
I kissed her a week ago, thinking I could stay away, but I just want to do it again. Again and again until she’s in too deep to mind our history. Until then, I’ll keep this thing going for her. Why am I still dwelling on this?
For closure, you idiot.
I decide tonight has to be an Appa and Rook night, and she’s not getting any warning. I want her surprised, maybe a little scared, but ultimately, jumping into my arms when I show up. As I drive to her, I let my mind run amok, tuning out the road noise.
I slip inside the house through her hacked front door lock.
I imagine hearing her rustling in a kitchen cabinet, maybe after a late-night snack, but I’m going to be the snack tonight.
I nudge the light switch in the kitchen before she even knows I’m there.
I’ll find her in a tank top and nothing else, barefoot, but not pregnant unless she forgot her pill.
Intentionally or unintentionally is her choice if she ever ‘forgets’ it.
She’ll scream at the intrusion at first, and that’s okay because she’ll already be wet if history repeats itself.
Then, I’ll fuck her against the counter until we’re both shaking.
I nod my head.
Yes, good plan.
But when I pull up to her house, it’s dark with no glow coming from any of the oversize windows.
She isn’t expecting me, nor is it late, but she could be in bed waiting.
I remotely unlock her front door from my car with the tap of a button.
I kill the silent motor of my electric car and head up the short pathway to her front door.
Gravel crunches under my sneakers. There’s no car in her driveway, but there usually isn’t.
Based on the stories she posted today, she should be home and not on a brand trip.
I open the already unlocked front door, and my eyes have to adjust to the dark house, dimly lit by the moonlight spilling through the glass windows.
It’s silent other than the static buzz of the refrigerator, and maybe a washer or dryer running down a hall.
I walk toward the main living room with no sign of her anywhere.
I peek around the high-backed chair I originally found her in, but she’s not there.
Upstairs it is.
I quietly make my way up to the next level, and I find her in her room, tucked into bed.
“I’m sorry, Rook, I can’t. Not tonight. No, really, I’m on my period, and it’s excruciating.
” Her words trip over each other as she breathlessly tries to get them out, and it lights my stomach on fire that she doesn’t trust me enough not to take advantage of her when she’s clearly in severe pain.
She wasn’t waiting patiently for me; she was hoping I’d stay away.
This isn’t the relationship I want to have with her.
At this moment, she’s genuinely terrified. More than the first time I showed up and made her touch my nipples to prove my identity. A blade churns my gut.
I never want her scared of me.
There’s no way she’s consenting, not in this condition, so I’m tagging Robby in and Rook the fuck out. She needs me. Not him.
I pull my shirt over my head when the air conditioning hits my bare torso.
“Oh, Apps,” I say softly, still disguising my voice the best I can.
My jeans hitting the carpet is the only sound in the room until she gasps and stands up from her cocoon on the bed.
She suddenly bends, resting her torso and head on the edge of the bed.
This is ridiculous. She goes through this every damn month like clockwork?
I lie down on the side she doesn’t use and hold my arms out. “Come here.”
“Why? What are you…?”
“Just trust me, for fuck’s sake,” I snap.
I know you want to, baby.
As soon as she lies back down, I draw her right into my arms. Her skin is cool against mine, but that’s how she’s been every time I’ve touched her.
She melts into my warmth. I press my chin to the top of her head.
I’ve dreamed for years of what it would be like to have her in my arms all night long.
We’re not kissing. Definitely not having sex either.
But this is just as good. If not, better because our relationship needs this.
Her icy fingers find the cross resting on my chest, and I let her play with it. She traces the shape with her fingertip before moving her hand and drawing her free arm around my back, grazing her fingertips down my shoulder blade.
Christ, I could never hurt you.
She presses her ear to my chest, and I let my fingers return the favor and run along her small back. My daydream crosses my mind. She’s not skipping her birth control, which is good, but a part of me didn’t like hearing she got her period.
Why would she anyway?
There’s no way I wanted her pregnant, but maybe I did?
And fuck, I’m getting hard like I’m a teenager.
I have no intention of giving my dick what it wants. It can wait until the shower tomorrow morning. “Don’t worry about that,” I murmur to her. My stomach tightens again when her body noticeably relaxes against me after that reassurance.
I have to do better with trust.
“You’re warm,” she says.
And you cool me down.
I bring my hand back up to the back of her head, and my fingertips take in the frizzy texture of her natural, wild curls as I play with the ends. They tickle my jawline and smell faintly sweet from her shampoo. And I can already envision us having a curly-haired little girl with my dark hair.
Appa suddenly pushes against me, and I release her from my arms. She bolts for the bathroom. I’m frozen, not knowing what the protocol is here. Even though she shut the door, I can hear her throwing up.
Do I go hold her hair or something?
But then she’ll see me, and we’ll be having some conversations tonight that I don’t think she’s in the mood for.
Robby would hold her hair back.
She emerges from the bathroom what feels like minutes later, and I immediately pull her to me again. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes are wet as she presses her face into my chest. “No, not really. I’m anemic.”
“I got you, baby.”
Her breathing shifts from ragged to deep and even quickly, like she hasn’t slept a day in her life. I’m proud that I made her comfortable enough to fall asleep given her state, and tonight better have improved our trust. Well, her trust in me.
I lay there for hours. I’m not that worried about falling asleep because I want this night to last forever. Or become our normal. Not the pain part, but being with her all night long in my arms. She’s the golden girl. The untouchable girl. My end game.
But I wish I knew how terrible this time is for her.
I have dated a little, but the girls I’ve been involved with before never had it this bad from what they told me.
Nor were they anemic, which must be a combination from hell.
How would this affect our ability to have children someday?
That thought hits me harder than it should, given where we are.
I’m getting ahead of myself, but being an only child, I want multiple kids with Appa. Not a girl like her. Appa exactly.
It’s after midnight when I shift myself out from under her.
I pull my jeans and shirt back on and slip into my worn-in Chucks.
In the moonlight, I notice clutter on her nightstand—an empty bowl and cup next to a full tumbler of water.
This is so not a Rook thing to do, but she needs to see I’m more than a set of pierced nipples and dominance.
Oh, that reminds me.
I pull the stained cork from my family’s vineyard, Tenuta Valenti, out of my jean pocket and set it next to her phone on the nightstand.
If I can’t be here when the sun rises, a piece of me will be when she wakes.
A small red light on the floor by her nightstand catches my eye.
It’s a heating pad plugged in and still radiating warmth.
My knees pop as I squat down and pull the plug from the wall.
How did she live without me all these years?
“Goodnight, Appa.”
I gently press a kiss to her forehead. My lips linger a second longer than they should, and then I take her dishes downstairs to the kitchen.
As I rinse them out and put them into the dishwasher, I let myself imagine this is what living together would feel like, and I’m her trusted caretaker when she’s having down days like this.
Whether it’s her period, a cold, or morning sickness someday, I want to cook for her and be her personal heating blanket forever.
Opening the front door, I grip the edge.
She’s not in deep enough, Robby.
I leave with my chest aching and heavy and lock the door behind me.
? ? ?
The next morning, I’m awake at six despite not crashing until two. My body needs more rest, but oh well. Time to work out and burn off last night’s pasta, but I send Appa a message first.
@Rook: You saw it. But do you see me yet?
There’s no way she’d miss the wine cork.
Unless she bumped it, it would still stand proud next to her phone when she woke up, and if she read my message, she undoubtedly saw the cork, too.
And was probably deep in a rabbit hole, researching my family’s vineyard.
If she looked hard enough, she’d find a picture of me with my family.
It was taken the summer after our fateful meet-cute, and I hope she’ll recognize me.
When I notice she has read the message later that morning, I send a follow-up. She doesn’t have to answer, but I have to insert the Rook edge back into the situation for her fantasy.
@Rook: I’ll be back in a few days. Feel better.
Turns out she needs a warning.