Chapter 56
FIFTY-SIX
She didn’t call me a liar this time.
As far as I’m concerned, even though Millie hasn’t said much of anything, I call it progress.
I have no idea what time it is. It’s late, I know that.
Late enough that she should be sleeping.
We both should but we’re fighting it, neither one of us willing to give in because we both know that if we fall asleep, things will be different when we wake up.
They’ll go back to the way they were. Doubt and resentment will creep in and when we open our eyes and look at each other, nothing I’ve said to her will matter.
After we came together, I carried her into the bathroom and into the shower.
Set her on the tiled bench while I turned it on and adjusted the temperature before I finished getting undressed.
Peeling out of my ruined boxers, I can feel her watching me, her gaze roving over me like she’s trying to figure it out.
Find the lies in the truth I just buried us under.
She doesn’t say it but I can feel it in the way she’s looking at me.
No matter how much she wants to believe me, she won’t and knowing that makes me want to scream.
Stepping into the shower, I pull her into my arms, smoothing her hair away from her face.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” I tell her quietly, my forehead folding in on itself on a frown.
“The way I feel doesn’t have to change anything.
We can still be us, Mills. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, okay.
Just…” Shaking my head, I fight to keep my tone level, my voice steady.
“I just want to be with you. I don’t care how.
I don’t care what that looks like. As long as I get to have you, that’s all that matters to me.
” I watch her brow crease and I’m sure she’s going to say it.
Call me a liar. Tell me about all the ways I screwed this up, before it even began.
So, I don’t let her. “You don’t have to say anything.
I’m not asking for an answer right now. I’ll wait.
For as long as it takes.” Cupping her face in my hands, I press my lips against her forehead. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
That was hours ago.
After getting out of the shower, I doctored her back and ordered room service because her stomach was growling so loud I could hear it over the sound of the sink while I brushed my teeth. We ate nachos and chocolate milkshakes before brushing our teeth again and climbing into bed.
“Tell me something,” she finally whispers, her mouth brushing against my bare chest. She’s laying on her stomach, half sprawled over me, her cheek pressed against my shoulder while my fingers pace, drawing a slow, lazy line along the length of her spine.
“I think I’ve told you enough for one day,” I say, gaze fixed on the ceiling, the corner of my mouth quirking into a wry smirk. “Any more and you really will call the cops on me.”
“Tell me about you then,” she says, trailing her fingertip over my chest, tracing the line of ink tattooed into my skin. “How old are you?”
Looking at the ceiling, I bark out a laugh. “You don’t know how old I am?”
“Okay, smartguy…” Lifting her head, she digs her chin into my pec to look at me. “Do you know how old I am?”
“I think you mean averagely intelligent guy,” I tell her with another grin because even though I know it’s completely childish of me, I’ll never get tired of needling her.
“I told you that I don’t really think that,” she says before pulling her lip between her teeth because we both know when she said it.
Where we were. We were in bed together, just like we are now, doing exactly the same thing—right before I fucked everything up by telling her how I feel about her. Right before I left.
I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you …
Because it feels like a live grenade has been dropped into bed with us, I do the smart thing for once and ignore it altogether. “You’re twenty-eight,” I tell her, quietly. “Your birthday is May twenty-third.”
Her brow furrows. “How—”
“Beside the facts that I was at your birthday party and we’ve already established that I know more about you than I have a right to—you have your own Wikipedia page, McGillicuddy,” I remind her with a wry smile. “I’m thirty-two. I’ll be thirty-three in November. Next question?”
“How old were you when you got your first tattoo?”
“Nineteen.” Lifting my free arm, I tuck it under my head before giving her a sidelong glance.
“It was with Conner, actually. I was home from college for the summer and I stopped by his dad’s bar to say hi.
He was there, we got to talking and he said he was headed out for a tattoo session.
I asked if I could tag along. He said yes. ”
“Mmm…” Still tracing her finger along the ink tattooed into my chest, Millie looks up at me. “Was it for a woman?”
“Yes.” I feel her shoulders stiffen against mine when I say it. Turning my head to look at her, I give her a shit-eating grin. “Are you jealous, Mapquest?”
Her brow furrows. “No,” she says but the indignant huff of it calls her a liar. “Maybe—” Still frowning, she looks away. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t be. I mean I don’t have a—”
“You have every right to be jealous and just so we’re clear, I like that you are,” I assure her, cutting her off before she can say it.
Before she can discount everything that’s happened.
Everything I’ve said. Everything we’ve done.
Say it’s not a big deal and put us right back where we started.
We’ll get there soon enough and I’m in no rush.
“But you don’t have to be. The woman was my grandmother.
” Pulling my arm out from under my head, I show her the inside of my wrist. A tattoo of a simple scroll with the date 4/22/09. “She’d died a few months before.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I—” The hand on my pec starts to move but I reach for her before she can pull away.
“It’s okay.” Pressing her hand flat against my chest, I hold it there, under mine. When I’m sure she’s not going to move away from me, I lift my hand to re-tuck my arm behind my head. “Next question?”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I have a younger brother,” I say, giving her another wry smile. “His name is Mason—he works the crab boats with our dad.”
“Will you go see them while you’re here?”
“It’s the middle of peak season so they’re out on the water but I’ll probably stop in and see my mom before I head back.” Still staring at the ceiling, I shake my head because I really don’t want to talk about my mom right now. “Next question?”
“Do you miss living here?”
“Do I miss Boston?” I turn my head to look at her. “It’s home. It’ll always be home but it’s not where I belong.”
“Where do you belong?”
“Here. I belong here.” With you. Looking back at her, I can see it. How hard she’s struggling not to look away when I say it. How ready she is to deny it because even though I didn’t say it out loud, she still heard me. “You’re wearing the anklet I gave you.”
When I say it, she flinches, just enough to let me know that she’d been hoping I hadn’t noticed. “Yes.”
“Have you taken it off since you came home?” I ask, still looking at her. I don’t know why it matters but it does.
Shaking her head, Millie’s chin digs into my chest. “No.”
“Why?” I can barely get the word out. Watching her, it’s all I can do to keep breathing.
“Because…” Her gaze wavers again like she’s fighting to keep it on mine. “Because you asked me not to.”
I was wrong.
It doesn’t mean something.
It means everything.
“Are you ready for your mission, Millie?”
When I say it, her chin comes up off my chest and her mouth pops open. Before she can protest, ask me what she did to warrant punishment, I shake my head.
“You called me a lying, cheating, smug, egotistical bastard, remember?” I feel my lips twitch when her mouth snaps shut on whatever argument she was about to launch. “I’ll agree that I’m most of those things but I take exception to being called a cheater. I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life.”
Her gaze narrows suspiciously. “Never?”
“As impossible as that might seem—never,” I confirm. “Mainly because I’ve never been in a serious, committed relationship until now.”
She pulls back. Just enough to tell me she caught what I just said and she doesn’t know how to react. What I’m asking for. “Dean—”
“Are you ready for your mission, Mills?” I ask, cutting her off again for the same reason as before. I’m not ready for tomorrow. For the way she’ll look at me and the things she’ll say. I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.
“Yes.” Giving me a small nod. “I’m ready.”
“Tell me you love me.” When all she does is stare at me, I shake my head before aiming my gaze at the ceiling because the way she’s looking at me is too hard to take.
“I know it’s a lie. I know it’s not real.
That I’m not the right guy for you. I know that I’ve done too much and you’re never going to let yourself believe anything I say.
” Swallowing hard, I briefly contemplate jumping up and ramming my head through the wall, just to shut myself up.
“Look—I know it’s fucked-up and I swear to you, I’ll never ask again…
just lie to me, Mills. Tell me you love me. ”
For a long terrible moment, she doesn’t say a word. She just stares at me, so long and so quiet that I’m sure she’s not going to say anything at all.
And then she does.
“I love you, Dean.”
Closing my eyes, I realize what a mistake I’ve made. That I was wrong. Hearing her say it didn’t fix anything. It didn’t make me feel better. It didn’t change a goddamned thing. If anything it made it worse, because it put us right where I didn’t want to be.
Right back to the beginning.
“G’night, Mills,” I whisper.
I feel her looking at me. Her chin still dug into my pec. Her big hazel eyes roving over my face and I can’t look at her. I can’t because if I do, I know that what I’ll see looking back at me will kill me.
Again, for a very long time, she doesn’t say a word until, finally, she turns her head to press her cheek against my chest with a sigh.
“Good night, Dean.”
After that, neither of us says a word. We just lie here quietly until we both fall asleep.