“The complaints. It’s been five days. I’m sure you have some.” She bites her lip, her shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry about my alarm clock. I just really need to be up and to go to work on time. I know its loud.”
“I hate your fucking alarm clock,” I growl the words, barely holding back the snarl, “but it’s not the biggest problem.”
“What is then?”
Her voice is so small when she asks and I find it difficult to lay into her, especially when she apologized about her alarm clock without me asking. Is this the first time I’ve actually talked to her instead of just lobbing my complaints at her? I think back over our other interactions and sigh.
No, I haven’t done anything other than be an ass to her. I look at her now and take her in. She looks tired. But there’s more to it than that. It’s not just a lack of sleep. She looks exhausted by life, as if the brave face I’ve seen, the one she has for the world, is mostly a mask to hide something else; something deeper.
How did I never see it before?
I guess I don’t answer fast enough because she looks up at me, a glint in her eye. “I’m a big girl, Anderson, I can take it. Lay it on me.”
Fucking hell, why do her words make me want to kiss her?
“It’s Boomer,” as if he knows I’m talking about him, he lets out a bark. Can he understand or is he just excited we’ve reached the park? The world will never know. I run my fingers through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh, hating the way I feel conflicted about this. “He barks all day long.”
She scrunches her eyebrows together and looks at me. It feels as if she’s looking at me, really looking, for the first time since we met. “Okay,” her tone is questioning, as if she feels like there’s more to the story.
There is.
“Look Reese,” her breath hitches when I say her name and I can’t say my cock doesn’t sit up and take notice, “I’m a writer. I have a deadline. I need to be able to write. I can’t with Boomer barking.”
Understanding lights up her features and she nods slowly. I can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to come up with some sort of solution. Have I never told her why it bothers me? Why it’s a problem?
Damn it. I’ve been so caught up in my own world, my own problems, and I’ve forgotten to treat her like a person.
It makes me wonder what else I’ve been wrong about. Is she really self-centered and selfish like my ex or have I just been too blind to really see the woman in front of me?
“Do you think we can find a solution?”
There’s hope in her voice, one which speaks to the person she really is and not the one I’ve painted her to be. I find myself nodding before I realize it.
The words slip from my lips, “Yeah, Sunshine, we can figure it out.”
The smile on her face this time isn’t fake. It’s real and it warms a part of my soul I thought was long since dead and gone. Now, I realize I just needed her, her sunshine, her warmth, all along.
Maybe we can find a solution. I don’t know what, but for the first time since I heard Boomer bark and it broke my concentration, I’m willing to try.