“You don’t seem okay,” he whispered. “Are you…?” He left the question hanging.
“Having regrets? No,” I rubbed at my tired eyes, “it was just a rough night.” After my mini meltdown—minus actual tears—I’d showered and climbed into bed with Tristan. I’d needed to surround myself with the comfort of the kids. If I’d shut myself up in my room, I think I would’ve went crazy.
“Well,” he started, and I swore a slight pink color stained his cheeks, “allow me to make tonight not so rough.”
I raised a brow.
“Come over for dinner…please,” he tacked on, like he thought the ‘please’ would make me give in.
“You know I can’t,” I frowned. “Ivy and—”
“It can be an early dinner then, and I’ll make plenty, so you’ll have leftovers to take home to them. Or you can bring them with you. I wouldn’t mind. It would limit my time kissing you,” he winked, “but I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”
“I’ll need to go home and change, but I can be there in two hours.” That would give me plenty of time to shower, change, and give myself a much needed pep talk, because I was going to be at Trenton’s place…just the two of us…oh, God.
Trent’s grin was so wide that crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. He hopped off my car and started to back away. “I guess I better figure out what I’m making.”
“I would’ve thought you’d already have a plan,” I retorted.
He shrugged. “I figured you’d say no.”
With that, he turned on his heel and jogged down the lot to where his black car was parked.
I continued to sit on the trunk of my car, drinking the delicious caramel coffee, and wondering what the heck I’d gotten myself into.
???
My hair was clean and dry, hanging in a straight sheet down my back. I wore a pair of jeans, a loose black sweater that hung slightly off my shoulder, and an old pair of boots that had certainly seen better days, but were so comfortable I refused to get rid of them.
The kids Christmas break didn’t start for another week, so there was still a good hour before they’d be home, and they were used to being here alone anyway. Not that they were technically alone, since my mom was here, but still.
I brushe
d my teeth for the fourth time since I’d been home and forced my fingers through my hair. My heart was racing in my chest, at the possibility of what might be about to go down between Trent and I. I sort of felt like a cocky dude, assuming sex was on the menu, but after the kiss in the car…I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t scared though.
I hadn’t had sex, except that one time so long ago. I was sure Trent had had plenty of practice and knew exactly what he was doing. I, on the other hand, was pretty clueless. One time hardly made me a master. Sure, there were times over the years when guys had expressed interest in me, but I couldn’t even make myself kiss them, let alone have sex. In the back of my mind, there was always…well, there was always Trent.
“Stop it, Rowan,” I glared at my reflection in the mirror. “Stop this right now. It’s only dinner. That’s all.”
Oh, God. Now I was talking to myself in the mirror. I was destined for the loony bin. Shit.
I forced myself out of the bathroom, shrugged on my coat, and grabbed my purse. I was almost out the door when I looked back and saw my mom passed out on the couch—sans trashcan.
I rolled my eyes, and strode back inside, grabbing the waste bin and sitting it beside her. I didn’t want to come home and have to clean up her vomit.
I guessed the sound of the trashcan being sat down woke her, because her groggy hazel eyes opened to meet mine. “What the fuck are you doing leaning over me like that?”
I pointed to the trashcan. I didn’t owe her an explanation. I didn’t owe her anything.
“You’re a worthless piece of shit! You know that!” She called after me.
I turned around, flipping her off. “Only because I’m your spawn,” I spat. “So, you would know.”
“You little bitch,” she snarled, her greasy hair hanging limply in her eyes as she struggled to get off the couch and come at me.
I slammed the door closed and ran for my car, speeding away before she could make it outside. A part of me hoped she’d come outside and be so drunk she’d forget how to get back inside, then maybe she’d freeze to death. Fuck. I was a horrible person. What kind of sane person wishes their mother would die? The sick kind, that’s who. I was so going to hell.