Page 9 of King of Guilt

Knowing that there was no way of persuading him of something he didn’t want to do, I sat next to him, silently contemplating what to do next. Restless and unable to take the lingering remnants of tension in the room, I got up and walked back into her room, taking one last look at everything I had set up.

It wasn’t long before they brought Pearl in, who was awake and lucid enough to talk. Taking the backseat in the situation, I withdrew to the corner, watching them reunite and dutifully waiting for a request or order. I felt like a cheat, standing here in this very intimate moment between a man and his mother.

However, the feeling soon subsided as my heart began to melt.

First, Dean reached for Pearl’s brush, leaned over behind her, and started tenderly brushing her hair. The way he would softly apologize in a whisper every time a tangled lock got stuck in the brush touched me to no end. When he was done, he then took her makeup kit and sat cross-legged in front of her on the bed, carefully putting on her lipstick, a touch of mascara, and some blush. I didn’t think I had ever witnessed such a moment in real life before, and the urge to run away returned with a vengeance deep within me.

If anyone deserved to enjoy the profoundness of this scene, it was Dean and Pearl, and perhaps the woman he was supposed to be truly in love with.

What a fraud I was.

And how impossible it felt in that moment to believe that Dean Allen was a billionaire with thousands of adults working under him. Right now, he was ‘D’, Pearl’s loving son, and nothing more.

Feeling as though my very skin was repulsed by my own existence, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, clasping my arms tightly and squeezing as if to stop feeling my heart beat so hard against my ribs.

“Emma? Why are you standing so far away, darling?” Pearl beckoned me over with her hand. “Come. It should’ve been you doing this! What does this boy know of makeup?” She softly chuckled, and it clearly hurt, since she momentarily winced. As I approached, she placed her hand over my arm. “Tell me. Did he paint me like a clown?”

Pressing my lips hard against each other, I tried not to cry out of guilt and quickly shook my head. “You’re so beautiful, Pearl.”

“Oh, that ship has sailed.” She waved a hand before touching my cheek. “But you… look at you. I knew my D had good taste, always. But you look nothing like the girls he used to bring home.”

Glancing quickly at Dean, I saw him smile as he packed away the makeup, shaking his head. “Why? What did they look like?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Pretty, sure. Gorgeous, even. But not beautiful.” She paused. “I have an eye for that kind of difference.”

Dying to get out of the situation, I took a step back. “Pearl, you’re making me blush.” I tittered. “Besides, you’ve had a big morning. You should be resting now.”

When Dean and I returned to the lounge, he took his phone outside and made a few calls. At that time, I tried a different trick to get him to ingest something other than alcohol. Upon his return, he saw the basket of cookies I had ordered on the coffee table and chuckled. “I may look like momma’s boy sometimes, but really? Cookies?”

“I’m a resourceful woman, Mr. Allen. Why don’t you try one?” I held up a chocolate chip cookie. “They’re fresh and chewy.”

“Fine.” He snatched the treat from my hand, sitting next to me and putting his phone face down on the table.

Halfway through the cookie, however, he held it up in my direction. “Do you want to finish this? I just can’t. It’s too much sugar.”

I hesitantly took it, throwing him a glare that he missed as he stared at a random spot on the wall in front of us. In an attempt to lighten the mood and take his mind off of his worries, I bit into the cookie at the spot he had eaten. “You know? We’re practically kissing now,” I joked.

Turning to look at me over his shoulder, he smirked and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? So, now you think you know how well I kiss, and how my lips feel against yours?” He then nodded, looking away. “Deep.”

Mesmerized, I felt like I had to process the little image he had just incepted into my mind. Our kiss at the wedding had barely counted as it was more of a peck, done purely to play our parts as newlyweds. Other than that, I had never really thought of Dean and I kissing before, and I wanted to quickly shake the thought out of my head. Luckily, he beat me to it.

“God, this headache.” He started massaging his temples with his hands. “Do you have something for it?”

“Well, we’re in a hospital. So, even if I don’t.” I got up and grabbed my purse, pulling out a bottle of painkillers. “But you shouldn’t take this on an empty stomach.”

He stood up and snatched it from my hand, chuckling. “One time can’t hurt. Do you always play by the rules?” I watched him pop two pills, washing them down with the last sip of his stale beverage.

Walking over to the mini-bar, I pulled a sealed bottle of water and handed it to him. “That’s why I got hired. Agnes wasn’t messing around.” Sitting down, I felt the couch shift under me as he sat back again. He continued to massage his temples, so I placed my hands over my thighs. “Okay, come here. Put your head down. I’m good at this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. If I could count the times I did this for my mom when she suffered a hangover.”

Leaning and shifting to lay his head in my lap, he made sure to look me in the eye as he said, “This isn’t a hangover.”

“You’re the boss.” I placed my fingers against his temples and started applying the necessary pressure, shifting my movement in circular patterns.

“Oh, this feels good,” he breathed out and the way he said it tied my stomach in knots.

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