I laugh, and tears of relief and happiness run down my cheeks. Crying from… happiness? That’s a fuckin’ thing? And doing it without a purple and pink screaming newborn on my chest or a man on a knee at my feet? A normal life moment warranting crying from happiness?
Never. Fucking. Before.
But now I’m with Atticus.
“See you soon,” he offers darkly.
And then I have ten minutes to get ready for him.
* * *
Seeinghis boots lined up by my door gives me a little thrill. I watch as he shrugs off his leather jacket, peeling his arms out of his flannel beneath, too. Once he’s in jeans, socks, and his Wrench Kings button-up, his hair a damp-looking mess on the top of his head, I melt into him.
He wouldn’t come over if he were mad, and I don’t want to make leaps about how people feel. And he told me we’re good—he just wanted me to understand that I have people in my corner now.
My fingers don’t connect when my arms are wrapped around his waist, but it feels so good to hold him. He’s warm, and the smell of concrete and sweat is soothing to my anxious nerves.
He drops a kiss on the top of my head and pulls back, tugging on the string of my robe. It doesn’t open because it’s knotted, but I definitely spent the last ten minutes lotioning and preparing. Under this robe is a good time, but right now, we have to talk.
God, adulting is hard.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m so sorry about lunch today.”
His eyes trickle over the satin robe where my nipple is puckered beneath. Reaching out with his thumb and forefinger, he pinches it hard. The base of my spine grows warm.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t stand up for you,” I rasp, the beginnings of emotion at the base of my throat, warmth forming behind my eyes. “I should have stood up for you. By not doing that, you probably think I agree with the things she said, but I don’t. I don’t, and I feel like shit for just… letting her talk shit.”
His face is stoic as ever and gives nothing away. He pinches my other nipple, and my knees grow wobbly. “I told you, I don’t need you to stand up for me. I need you to stand up for yourself because my old lady doesn’t let anyone take her down like that.”
He hooks a finger in the lapel and tugs the satin to rest beneath my breast. Stepping to eliminate the space between us, he slowly bends, sealing his mouth to my nipple.
His rough, cold beard grating my soft, warm skin as my fingers feed through the back of his hair makes me shudder. He isn’t mad… I’m trying to focus on that as his lips tighten and his teeth pinch the hard tip of my breast, biting gently.
When I moan, he pops off, and then I’m looking up at him, both of us getting a little breathless.
“I was gonna ask you why you didn’t tell me,” he starts as he watches his hand smooth down my arm. “But I didn’t tell you about Mere til just recently. So that wouldn’t have been fair of me.”
“Why I didn’t tell you about what?” His hand smoothing down my arm feels like a hug for my soul, and holy shit, now this man is making me a freakin’ poet.
A wet poet.
“Your aversion to food,” he says carefully like he’s not sure what he’s allowed to say or how to say what he wants to express, and I love that he’s handling this with gloves. I wish I didn’t need that, but I do.
In my sessions with Dr. Longo, we’ve already spent a decent amount of time on my emotional ties to eating and my emotional triggers to food aversion. At the restaurant earlier, I missed an opportunity to eat despite the trigger, and I should have, I know.
But I also know change isn’t instant, overnight, or easy. “I’m working on it with Dr. Longo, and today I should have eaten. I need to start retraining my brain to eat, no matter how I’m feeling.”
“I’m glad you’re workin’ on it. But I want you to know; you can tell me shit. Anything. Even this stuff.” He steals a kiss from my lips and pinches my nipple again.
“I was ashamed,” I admit, surprising myself with the word choice. I never say that word. The evil ‘a’ word. There’s something about feeling ashamed of your very existence and another thing to admit it.
This time, he twists my nipple and holds it there, the sharp pain stealing my breath momentarily. “You never gotta be ashamedwith me.” He holds me captive by the grip he has on my tit. “Got it?”
I nod.
He seals his mouth to my nipple again and gives it a rousing suck before he releases me, working the tie in my robe.