I turned on my side away from him and faced my nightstand, my eyes so tired I could barely make out the time on my clock.
It was 4:19.
We didn’t snuggle after sex. He stayed on his side, and I stayed on mine.
But he grabbed my arm and gently rolled me to my back.
I looked over my shoulder at him.
He lay on his back, his head turned my way. But then he looked at the ceiling again, his eyes eventually closing.
I rolled over again, unsure what that was about.
He grabbed me again and this time pulled me harder.
“What are you—”
“I don’t want to see.” His hand released me and returned to his stomach.
“Don’t want to see what?”
He closed his eyes.
Then it dawned on me.
My back.
I turned on my side the other way, my back displayed to the doorway.
He lay there, his breathing deep and even like he was relaxed.
I watched him, seeing how gentle he looked when he was relaxed, like he was a good man…who had a different life. We were two regular people in bed together, meeting in a coffee shop in the most romantic place in the world.
I saw the scar located behind his ear, the line from where the metal pipe had struck him and made it bleed. It was hard to look at it, reminding me of the pain I’d caused him with my bare hands.
I understood how he felt.
I moved into him and pressed a kiss to the scar, trying to replace the violence with affection.
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
I returned to my spot, keeping some space in between us, the rain still hitting the outside of the window.
His eyes watched me for a while, impossible to decipher. Minutes passed and the look continued, as if he didn’t understand what I did or why I did it. Then he turned his face back to the ceiling and closed his eyes.
21
The Boss
It was the first time I showered in my apartment.
I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing how much I had changed in the familiar light. My skin had tanned so much that my old foundation was no longer the right color, but I still did my eyes and lips, made my hair full and nice, the way it used to be.
I almost didn’t recognize myself.
My clothes fit a little loosely because I’d lost some weight. My body was fit now, so everything was tight. I pulled on a pair of jeans, little booties, and a sweater before I headed downstairs.
It felt like a regular day, like nothing had happened.
I opened one of the drawers and found some extra cash before I left the building.
It was lunchtime for most people, but I’d woken up late after my long night, so it was still morning for me. I took the walk to my favorite café a block over. I walked past the windows, saw the people inside with their laptops and coffee. The counter held displays of their cookies and pastries, their assortment of freshly baked breads and cheeses.
I stopped at the window and looked inside.
The sound of cars was loud behind me, the bell on a passing bicycle, a dog barking at another dog farther down the sidewalk. It was an overcast day, and the sidewalk was still damp from the rain that had fallen last night…but it was the most beautiful day of my life.
I couldn’t believe it was real.
I stepped inside and placed my order, nearly forgetting how I liked my coffee. It was strange to talk to a real person, someone who had no idea what I’d survived. I stood there and waited for my food, listening to the blender, a customer talking obnoxiously loud on his phone, and the sound of quiet chatter as friends and family enjoyed lunch together.
I felt like I wasn’t really there, but a ghost instead.
When my food and coffee were ready, I walked back to the apartment.
Walked there…because I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted.
Everything in my apartment was moldy and expired, even the coffee, so I’d had to fetch something from the outside world. But even if there had been something to eat, I probably would have left anyway.
I returned to my apartment and set everything on the counter. Magnus was still asleep, and I had no idea how long he would stay that way. I went upstairs and placed the coffee cup at his bedside so it would be there when he opened his eyes. I crept inside and gently set it on the nightstand.
He opened his eyes and looked at me, his gaze sleepy like he was still out of it.
“It’s not hot chocolate, but it’s warm.”
He propped himself up on one arm, his hair messy from rolling around all night. His eyes were still heavy from sleep, but he looked me over, his eyes starting at my legs and slowly moving up until he looked at my face.
I knew I looked totally different, in a way he’d never seen before. I’d even shaved in the shower, so if he saw me naked again, I’d look different there too—not that I expected that to happen again.
His large arms were flexed and covered with veins, and his broad shoulders made the mattress dip underneath him. The sheets were at his waist, showing the chiseled abs and line of hair. A more beautiful man had never been in my bed before. Without blinking, he regarded me. “Beautiful.”
I didn’t know how to react to those words…the only compliment he’d ever given me on my appearance. “I have breakfast downstairs whenever you’re ready.” I left the coffee behind and ventured downstairs. The house was a mess and would be a pain to clean, but I was grateful to be there, so I refused to complain. I started on the dishes because that seemed to be the most pressing.
The chair pulled out from the kitchen island.
I stilled when I heard him behind me. I turned off the
