“I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll have breakfast together. And then you and I are going to bed and getting some rest. I haven’t slept since the night you left,” he said, a trace of pain in his voice. “And you don’t look as if you’ve slept any more than I have.”
She flushed guiltily but didn’t refute his statement.
With one last caress to her cheek, he turned and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Evangeline to sag against the couch. She closed her eyes as weariness overtook her. He was right about one thing. She hadn’t slept. Not at all. She’d lain in her small bed at night praying for oblivion. For a few short hours where she could escape her pain and grief. Instead she’d spent the interminable nights wiping tears from her swollen eyes and asking why over and over.
She tugged the blanket more snugly around her, inhaling Drake’s scent, absorbing it. His presence was everywhere in the apartment. Even with him in another room she could still feel his overwhelming presence. It shouldn’t comfort her, but it did.
The last five days had been miserable. The worst days of her life. She never wanted to repeat them again. Maybe it made her a fool—a desperate fool—for taking him back so easily, but she needed him. Craved him. She only felt safe when he was with her, which was absurd considering he had been the one to destroy her.
Unease gripped her when she went back over his explanation, his justification of his actions. Just what was Drake involved in that would net him so many enemies? Inspire enough hatred that they would use her to cripple him?
She wasn’t stupid. She had no illusions that Drake was a model citizen, but she simply couldn’t imagine him being involved in anything truly heinous. But then she’d already acknowledged that when it came to him she was an ostrich with her head stuck firmly in the sand.
The simple truth was she didn’t want to know. Ignorance truly was bliss, and as long as she didn’t know for sure how he made his living she couldn’t very well pass judgment on him. She was happier not knowing, and if that made her a bad person, then it was something she would just have to accept.
Or perhaps she just needed time to work up the nerve to confront him about his business practices. At any rate, that time wasn’t now. Not when things were already so fragile between them. When the time was right, she’d broach the subject and then decide if she could live with the results of her inquiry.
Oh, Mama and Daddy. What is happening to me? This isn’t the way you raised me.
They would be so ashamed if they knew she was at least temporarily turning a blind eye to the right thing. The very last thing she ever wanted was to disappoint them. They were good people. The very best. And they’d always taught her to do the right thing no matter the sacrifice.
“Angel.”
Drake’s gentle voice roused her from her introspection, and she opened her eyes to see him carrying a tray with two plates.
“Sit up, baby. You need to eat and then you need to get some rest. We both need to rest and I can’t think of a better way to do so than with you in my arms.”
She sniffed appreciatively and her stomach protested the many days of not eating. Of not having the strength or will to force herself to eat. A hot flush swept over her body, causing her to shake, and sweat broke out on her forehead. Her stomach lurched and rebelled and then squeezed and tightened into a hard knot.
“I’m not sure I can,” she said honestly, clutching her belly with one palm. Nausea boiled in her stomach, leaving her weak, clammy and shaking uncontrollably.
Drake cursed and swiftly set the tray on the coffee table before sliding onto the couch next to her, enfolding her in his arms. He urged her to the edge of the cushions supporting her back.
“Lean forward and put your head down,” he said gently. “Take in deep breaths. In through your nose and out your mouth. I’ll get you some soup. Think you could handle that?”
She nodded miserably, her embarrassment growing with each passing minute. She was acting like a helpless twit who couldn’t survive without her man.
Drake sat there a few moments longer rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down her spine, and then he gently massaged her nape.
“Will you be okay while I get the soup?” he asked in a low voice.
“Y-yes.”
His lips brushed the top of her head and he disappeared back into the kitchen only to return a few minutes later with a steaming mug. He placed it between her palms and told her to sip.