Page 171 of Renard's Deliverance

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Renard asked, rushing into the bedroom. “Are you in pain? You’re not due painkillers for a while.”

He’d set up the large mirror from the closet at the end of the bed for her. It wasn’t ideal but he wouldn’t hear of her using the bathroom one.

“It’s not that,” she said with frustration. “It’s me. I can’t do it. I can’t do it, and I need to do it. I need to be me.”

Even if she was a battered, bruised version of herself.

“Then let me help you.” He sat on the bed, facing her. “What were you trying to do?”

“Contouring,” she told him.

“Okay, no idea what that is. But you explain it and I’ll do it.”

“Really? You will?” she asked in amazement.

“Of course, baby. I would do anything for you.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later,he stepped back.

“What do you think?” he asked. “More mascara?”

She glanced in the mirror. She still looked terrible. The concealer wasn’t strong enough to cover all of her bruises, and there was nothing that could be done about the swelling or the cut on her lip. But she felt herself starting to breathe easier.

“I think that’s enough mascara.”

Nodding, he put her mascara down, then stepped back, studying her closely. “I don’t think I did a good job on the contouring.”

“Contouring is hard to do, especially when you have to work around bruising and swelling. I think you did a great job, darlin’.”

“Was like magic, that stuff. Sure I didn’t put on too much blush?”

“Nope.” For some reason tears filled her eyes.

“What is it? Damn it, fucked it up, didn’t I? I need some makeup lessons.”

A laugh escaped her. God, her emotions were all over the place.

“I’ll wash it all off and start again,” he said. “I can get this. Makeup isn’t going to defeat me.”

Reaching up, she grabbed his hand as he tried to leave. “No, don’t go. It’s perfect.”

“It’s not perfect.”

“All right, maybe it’s not perfect. But it’s perfect for me. Because I don’t know any other man who would’ve sat here for fifteen minutes and helped with my makeup because they knew how much it meant to me. And it does. I just . . . thank you for giving this back to me. You don’t know how much it means.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Leaning down, he kissed her forehead. “Now, hair?”

“All right, darlin’. Let’s just slow down. You only just learned to do makeup. Not sure you’re ready for hair.”

“Hey, if I can do contouring, I can damn well do hair.”

Well. She couldn’t argue with that.

36

“Do you know where my phone is?” Opal asked as Renard walked in, carrying a tray of food.

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