Page 101 of Until I Own You

Bridget shakes her head, unable to speak.

“Bridget,” I say. “I haven’t apologized, have I?”

Her green eyes tremble, her pink-painted lips contorting with nervousness. “No, S-Seth.”

I can sense the hesitation before she calls me Seth. If only she knew my name causes just as much pleasure as when she calls me Sir.

“Well, I obviously owe you one after all this time.” I glance at Abigail and Jack, then refocus on Bridget. “I was selfish and…misguided. I didn’t realize the way I was treating you was having a ripple effect. But none of that matters because I was hurting you.” There’s a hitch in the back of my throat.

I hurt Bridget all the time. The way I’ve treated her was wrong and neither of us deserved to hurt that much for the past ten years, but she deserved it even less.

I realize now I’ve hurt in ways I need to atone for. And that goes further than making her come and telling her sweet things. It entails accountability and strength in a way that I’ve never been very good at.

I’m ready to be good at it now.

“I’m deeply sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you,” I say. “I’ve never disliked you…I just…” Didn’t like myself very much…

Still don’t.

But I like myself with you.

“You’re just shit with emotions,” Abigail says.

Jack must kick Abigail under the table because she growls at him.

I nod. “You could say that.”

Ever so innocently, I slide my hand across the table, palm facing upward. “Forgive me?”

Bridget smiles, a soft smile like the flicker of a candle in the dark.

She places her hand in mine, and I have a hot flash from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“Yes, Seth. I forgive you.”

I squeeze, run my thumb over the back of her hand and then release it.

That’s probably as much intimacy as we can get away with in public. Because even if we never really had that kind of relationship, in the eyes of everyone around us, we are…stepsiblings after all.

After that little awkward but necessary moment, both Bridget and I get more at ease.

I can read Bridget like a book. It’s my job. My responsibility. I know when she is scared.

Now, after two, going on three, extra gimlets, she is relaxed. Posture melting, smile effervescent, and easeful with conversation.

She only speaks to me when addressed, but I sense she is getting used to the give and take of our dynamic out in the world.

After Nate disallows us from singing happy birthday, we are all given dishes of tiramisu.

However, it becomes painfully obvious not everyone needed their own dish since the crew at the left side of the table is all sharing. Dipping their spoons into each other’s dishes, sliding them into each other’s mouths.

“Ick,” Abigail mutters before grabbing a huge spoonful of her dessert.

“That I agree with you on.” Though there is a small part of me that would love to dip my spoon into Bridget’s perfect mouth, hold her chin delicately in my hand, watch the sweetness titillate all of her senses.

“It all happened so fast, didn’t it?” Jack leans on his elbow. His spoon sticks straight up in his tiramisu, his expression downturned.

I feel for my friend.

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