She brought the coffee over to the table and nudged a cup in front of him. “Enjoy your coffee,” she said.
He lifted his head and stared at her. “I told you that I love you, right?”
She gave him the ghost of a smile. “I love you too,” she admitted. “I’m just not sure I can live with you anymore though.”
He stared at her in horror. “Please don’t leave me,” he cried out. “Dear God, please don’t leave me.”
“It’s not what I want to do,” she said, “but your frustration is driving me batty. It’s making you much more aggressive and much more unpleasant to be around.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hands. “Please, don’t leave me. Nobody else understands.”
She gripped his fingers and said, “I know that.” She squeezed his fingers. “But either I walk away from this, or you find another way to make that outlet happen because I can’t keep doing this.”
“Nobody else understands,” he kept whispering. “I’m a different person than everybody else.”
“Of course you are,” she said, “because you don’t dare let them see that you feel like you’re a failure.”
“No, I don’t let them see. I can’t let them see. They would never, never let me keep doing the work I’m doing,” he said.
“Of course not,” said this woman, who was the most special person to him, reaching out and gripping his fingers again. “But you’re telling yourself that you’re a failure constantly,” she said, “and that’s really hard for me to keep rebutting. You won’t listen to me, and you won’t listen to yourself. Who will you listen to?”
They both looked at each other, and the word came out immediately. “Cayce.”
Chapter 17
Waking up as Cayce was, warm, cozy, and being cuddled, was not what she expected. Her eyes flew open when she realized somebody was in bed with her. Richard’s electric blue eyes met hers.
“Oh, my God,” she said.
He leaned a little bit closer, kissed her on the tip of her nose, and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
She slowly sat up, stretched her arms over her head, while she tried to collect her wits, and nodded. “You know what? I think I did.” She frowned. “I hate to think it’s because you were here, but I feel pretty decent.”
“Perfect,” he said. “Do you mind if I have a shower?”
She nodded right away as he got up and strode from her bedroom in just his boxers, heading over to the room she’d unsuccessfully assigned him to last night. He was so nonchalant, so casual, about his heavily muscled body. Not a bodybuilder’s body, but the body of a working man. Just a little bit of extra skin around his waistline made him all the more endearing.
When he came back twenty minutes later fully dressed, he raised an eyebrow. “You staying in bed all day?”
She gave him a lazy smile. “I’m pretty sure you gave me orders to not go to work today.”
“Absolutely I did,” he said with an approving smile. “But I hadn’t really expected you to stay in bed.”
“Well, maybe I will,” she said. It was starting to sound like the best idea yet.
“That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll go see what there is to make for breakfast.”
“Delivery service?” she said in a cheeky tone.
He turned, flashed her a bright smile, and said, “Oh, I don’t think so. Maybe a cup of coffee to get you going, but for breakfast? You’ll have to come downstairs.”
She pouted, loving the interplay between the two of them. “Well, you get the coffee going,” she said. “I’ll jump into the shower.”
“Perfect,” he said, as he headed downstairs.
As soon as he was gone, hearing his footsteps running down to the first floor, she hopped out of bed with a laugh. She didn’t know why she felt so good, but she did. She twirled around in place, then danced her way to the shower. As soon as she stepped under the hot water, she worked on her hair, wondering if she should get it cut super-super short, so it’d be that much easier to keep clean of paint, then decided she loved her long blond tresses and didn’t dare part with them. She shampooed and conditioned her hair, then worked her body over with a loofah sponge from top to bottom. When she was finally done, she stepped out into her bedroom with her robe on, seeing him standing there, holding a cup of coffee.
He made a bow in front of her and said, “Ma’am, your coffee.” He walked over and put it on the night table. “Bring it down with you. Five minutes until breakfast.” And, with that, he disappeared.
She stared at the empty doorway in amazement. Then she walked over to her closet, figuring out what she wanted to wear. If she was staying home, she wanted to be cozy. She pulled on leggings and a nice soft tunic. Skipping socks and shoes or heels, she picked up her coffee, took a sip. Then she stepped back into her bathroom to run a brush through her hair, quickly turned the wet strands into a braid, popped an elastic at the end of it, and curled it around her shoulder. She picked up her coffee and walked downstairs.
As she walked into the kitchen, she lifted her nose. “I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it smells delicious.”
“Good,” he said. “You want to set the table?”
She looked over at her little table, nodded. She put her coffee down there and quickly brought over knives, forks, and juice glasses.
As she walked to the stove, he said, “With that braid, you look about eighteen.”
“Well, that’s a number I’ll never see again,” she said.
“Would you really want to?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Eighteen wasn’t a good year for me.”
“Is that when Elena returned the favor?”
She froze, turned to look at him. “I did mention that, didn’t I?”
He nodded slowly.
She smiled. “Yes.
