“This is a restraining order…against her,” she mutters, reading the document.
“Yes—look at the date it was issued.” The day after the post that claimed we were engaged. My parents were not happy learning about it on social media.
“The day after the Instagram post.”
“Yes. Anabelle. Just so you know, I saw it when I got home the following morning because I visited my brother and spent the night after I started drinking. I’ve never slept with her. She’s fucking nuts.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I just work for you.” She’s trying to use that shit to build that wall right up between us, but that won’t do.
“Worked. Our contract is over with, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then I feel no guilt doing this.” I wrap my scarf around her and drag her into my arms. “I’m crazy about you, Anabelle.” Dropping my head down, I kiss her lips. She slowly relaxes and slides her hands up onto my shoulders, kissing me back. Fuck. With a growl, I pick her up and carry her to the sofa, laying her down and tugging off my coat before crushing her mouth with mine again.
We kiss and grind against each other on the small fucking sofa. I need to get her in bed. My bed, preferably, but seeing the weather, it’s not safe. “Where’s your bedroom?”
Like I’ve asked the wrong question, she freezes. “I can’t. Get off of me.” Confused, I do as she asks even though everything in me is telling me otherwise.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Just because you didn’t fuck that dumb model doesn’t mean there isn’t a trail of other women just like her. I know I can’t change your past, but I can’t be with a man who goes around flirting and sleeping with almost anyone.”
“That’s fucking good because I haven’t been screwing my customers. You’re the only one for me, Anabelle. I don’t know how to prove it to you, but I’m not that guy the media has made me out to be. I’m a fucking showman, the front for Fiore’s to keep it busy all year round.”
“Look. You can stay here, but as soon as the weather clears, you need to leave. I have work to do, and Christmas is ruined.” She steps away from me and down the hallway to what I presume is her room. I’m not going anywhere. I snatch her keys off the hook by the door and go outside to get my bag from the trunk.
Once I return, she’s standing in the middle of the living room, staring at me with a frown on her beautiful face. “I thought you left.”
“No. I told you I’m not going anywhere.”
“Call your sister if you wish, but I’m telling you now—we will discuss this shit upsetting you. I get it, because the thought of you with anyone else makes me insane with jealousy. I want to destroy that fucker you went on a date with. He may have magical hands, but I didn’t want them anywhere near you. I’ve scrolled your Facebook profile, work and personal, wrote down names of every fucking man that liked or commented on your posts. Does that make me fucking nuts? Probably. Do I care? Fuck, no. You have a past that I don’t even want to think about, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting a future with you.” Hell, that’s why I got rid of that table. I didn’t just get rid of it. I took an axe to it, chopping it to pieces and using it as firewood.
God, I try not to get images in my head of her with other men, but it’s hard not to think about it. “A temporary future,” she says, making me change my focus.
I drop my bag and close the distance, setting her keys on the table. As soon as I’m standing in front of her, I cup her face and reply, “Life is temporary, but I don’t want temporary. I want eternity with you.”
“I want to believe it.” I swipe away the tears that slide down her soft cheeks.
I press my lips gently to her forehead. “Believe it. You’re the only one for me. I mean that, too. There is no one. Only you; there’s only ever been you.”
“There were others before me.”
“No, there wasn’t. I had a girlfriend when I was like sixteen, but then we broke up after two weeks because she thought I was gay.” I hadn’t mentioned that to anyone but Franco since we were teens.
“What? Why?”
“I wouldn’t sleep with her, and I loved to cook.” I shrug, unable to explain that it wasn’t the only thing. I’d not grown into this adult body until I turned twenty.
“Are you telling me that you’re a virgin, Fabio, or have just had a limited amount of lovers?”
“Virgin. I jerked off a fucking lot, but that’s it, and a lot since we met—so much so I think I need surgery.”