“No, I’m inquisitive.”
I glanced sideways at her. “And nosy.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’m nosy. Now, tell me. We got like forty minutes to burn, here, so start talking.”
“Here’s an idea. Let’s talk about your past.”
“You already know all about my sorry-ass life.”
“Oh, that’s right. The ballerina who starved herself, all because she tried to impress mommy-dear, who also happened to be a demonic bitch.” I held up a finger. “And then she managed to catch the attention of the meanest motherfucker in all of New York City, got her ass kidnapped, and then fell in love with the monster, who turned out to be her prince.”
“King,” Alyx chimed in. “He turned out to be myKing.”
“Oh, gag.”
She chuckled. “Okay, your turn.”
I nervously pressed at my cuticles, biting the inside of my cheek. Living with men for so long was comfortable in the sense that they didn’t give a shit about your past or the kind of baggage you were saddled with. Men were allbuild a bridge and get over it,where women liked to chat about it, share their feelings, and get all mushy about shit.
I let out a breath. “I was a drug addict before Granite’s father found me.”
Alyx remained silent as she continued to layer the color into my hair.
“Snorting snow was my favorite pastime, and getting high was part of my daily routine.” I relaxed my shoulders a little. “For years, I was sure ‘drug overdose’ would be listed as my cause of death one day.”
More silence.
I glanced at her over my shoulder. “You know, Swan Lake, if you want to me talk, you can at least go all Dr. Phil on my ass and ask, ‘how did that make you feel?'”
She snickered. “Oh, my God. Okay, how did that make you feel?”
“Like shit. Thanks for asking.”
Alyx laughed some more as she pushed my head down, starting to work on the hair at the back of my neck. “Okay, so I guess the next question I should ask is why you were using.”
“No. The next question you should ask is, ‘how was your life leading up to your drug addiction?’”
“Dear God, I’m starting to regret asking anything.”
“Good. You should.” I tugged the towel tighter around my shoulders. “Despite what you might think—”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“—I did not have a shitty upbringing, and my drug addiction was not tied to any traumatic event from my childhood. In fact, my childhood was the perfect cliché. I had a mom who baked at four in the morning so I could wake up to that homey smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. My dad was the perfect gentleman who wore pressed suits to work every day yet wasn’t afraid to dance in the rain and play in the mud with his five-year-old daughter.”
Alyx started working at the side of my head, the dye cold against my scalp. I wanted to try to crack another joke as the heaviness of the topic started to press down on my chest. But I couldn’t, not while I remembered some of the good times.
“My parents never fought, or at least, if they did, I didn’t know about it. Every Sunday, we would go for a road trip to the beach for ice cream. Rain, storm, wind, no matter the weather, we always went. And every night before bed, my mom would tuck me in while my dad would sit on the floor next to my bed, holding my hand until I fell asleep.” Tears prickled the back of my eyes. “I adored my dad. He wasmyking, my hero.”
Alyx stilled, her fingers weaved through my hair. “He sounds amazing.”
“Yeah, well,” I wiped at the tear to stop it from falling, “he wasn’t.”
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t talk about it now. It was too heavy, and I was already drowning without the demons from my past weighing me down. “Are you done yet? My ass is starting to get numb.”
Alyx smoothed the dye through my hair some more, pulling her fingers from root to tip. “I’m done. Now we just need to wait about half an hour, so we still have plenty of time to chat.”
I blinked at her as she moved to stand in front of me. “How about you whip me up some pancakes instead?”