Page 7 of Wanting Mr Black

He does as he was told, allowing me to slip the T-shirt on over his head. I feel the heavy weight of his stare as I pull it down over his chest, and I know he’s willing me to look at him, but I don’t. I can’t be reeled in. There are things I need to say and questions I want answered, and I need to keep my focus.

He pushes himself up off the bed, slipping the towel from around his waist to reveal a semi-erection. He’ll have to go this bit alone, I decide. I avert my eyes and push the boxers into his chest. He takes them from me, and I let him rest a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he gingerly pulls on his underwear and then his sweatpants, hiding the silver streak of his scar. Another part of his past I know nothing about. I go to move away, but his fingers curl round my shoulder, and I make the mistake of lifting my eyes to his. His dishevelled, damp hair falls across his forehead, and tired brown eyes are searching mine for a clue as to how I feel.

I can’t give him the answer he wants. Not yet. “We’ve a lot to discuss.”

His jaw tightens as he releases his grip from my shoulder, and I seize the opportunity to retreat into the living area. I can’t be this close to him. I can’t risk wavering. I need to keep focussed.

He slowly makes his way into the room behind me and flops down on the sofa, the effects of his hangover visibly taking its toll. I place the paracetamol, glass of water, and mug of blackcoffee on the coffee table and settle down in the armchair opposite.

“You need to take them; they’ll make you feel better,” I say, nodding towards the painkillers.

“I doubt it.” He picks up the painkillers and tosses them into his mouth. Then, he grabs the glass of water and takes a long gulp, knocking them back.

I ignore his self-pitying remark. “Get some sleep.”

He folds his arms behind his head and gives me a long look. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.”

I’ll stay because I want answers, and it’s obvious he’s not yet ready to give me the explanation I deserve. “I promise.”

He nods as if content with my reply and closes his eyes.

Five

Iblink open my eyes in the fading light, and for a second, I have no clue where I am. The soft yellow glow from the floor lamp behind the sofa casts a warm hue around the living room, and realisation comes flooding back to me.

My eyes slide to Art. He’s still stretched out on the sofa, but now, he’s watching me.

I straighten up in the chair, suddenly self-conscious. “How long have you been awake?”

“Ages.” He unfolds his long legs and places his bare feet on the floor, sitting up. He rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his palms together, glancing in my direction. “You came back.”

I fix him with a firm stare. “Big Steve asked me to help. He couldn’t get in, and he couldn’t get hold of you. Don’t think the fact that I’m here means all’s forgiven.”

He lowers his eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry if I scared you last night. I don’t remember exactly what I said. All I remember is that you ran away and I punched the wall.” He traces his fingertips over the bruised knuckles of his hand.

“And smashed a bottle,” I point out.

He glances towards the kitchen counter and frowns, as if trying to recall. “Now, you know why I don’t drink.”

The vision of the empty-eyed husk of a man I watched stagger around the previous evening flashes into my mind. “Are you always like that when you drink?”

He fleetingly looks in my direction but keeps his head down. “It depends how much I drink. Last night, I drank a lot.”

I twist my fingers in my lap, listening to his defence. “Alcohol doesn’t solve problems.”

“No, but it helps numb the pain for a while.”

I raise my eyebrows, unable to help my disapproving tone. “Is this how you cope whenever something bad happens? Hit the bottle straight away?”

“No,” he replies firmly, still not meeting my eyes. When he speaks again, his voice is weak. “But you finished it. You said we were over.”

I fold my arms. “Because you’d lied to me. The big issue isn’t that you own a strip club. It’s not even about the fact that you employ a woman you’ve slept with and who still clearly has a thing for you. Yes, it’s a shock, but the main problem is the lying. I told you about my ex and how he lied and cheated, and you still did it anyway.”

He stares at the floor as the weight of my words hit him. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough. I know we both don’t yet know every little thing about one another, but this is pretty big. You lied to me about something huge.”

“I worried you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I could tell you were freaked out because I used to go to Savage, and I thought telling you about the strip club would be one step too far. I couldn’t … I didn’t want you to run again.”

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