Page 228 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Do they hate her?
They couldn’t possibly.
I’ll get the sage out later and add some crystals to the hallway until we can get that carpet up. Annabelle spoke to Nyx about it yesterday. He doesn’t have time this week, but he’s marked it in his calendar for next week.
Knowing that it’s going has made my day easier today, leading to a carefree morning, brightening up the reading room with paint I didn’t pay for.
Somewhere between opening the tin and splashing color around, Shane and I set the paintbrushes down.
I’m not sure exactly how we got here, but I can’t take it anymore.
Tears roll down my face from laughing so much as Shane’s fingers dig into my skin, tickling me.
We’d never played before, not in all the years we were together. And as basic as this is, to randomly get lost in each other while we were trying to paint the skirting boards pink, this feels like just what we need.
And he initiated it.
It’s our first day together since the blow-up, where I haven’t seen another woman’s face as I stare at him. Where I haven’t wished he were someone else.
Maybe this really can be a fresh start for us.
He pins me beneath him, his hands making it to my weak spot between my thighs, where I’m most ticklish, and I break out in a cackle.
It’s impossible to get under his arms to get him back, and in my hysterics, I hit out and catch the paintbrush, knocking it from the can. It splatters the floor with the beautiful color that works much better on the house’s interior than the exterior.
But God, this needs to stop.
It’s just too much, and I’m not sure if I’m about to hyperventilate from laughing so hard or cry because my senses are close to overload.
Either way, tears accumulate in my eyes.
Desperation leads me back to the paintbrush, and I reach for it on the floor and flick it across his cheek. I’m still laughing when he shoots back because it’s too late, and I got him.
Wiping it off, laughing too, he catches me off guard with his words, “Don’t do that to me, you ugly fucker.”
Shock widens my mouth, and I have no way of responding other than to drop the paintbrush and stain the floor again.
While still on the ground, the air trapped inside pushes the tears out of the corners of my eyes.
“Dollancie, I was kidding. It was a joke,” he tells me, still laughing.
He looms down on me and forces me into a hug.
“No, it’s too much.” The forced comfort. The painful words. I feel my senses kick up a gear, edging to an overload when he refuses to let go. “I don’t want a cuddle. I need some space.” He ignores my needs. “I really need some space, Shane.”
“I wasn’t serious.” He kisses my hair, forcing that too.
The kiss distracts him enough for me to push him away and slide out from beneath him.
A safe distance forms between us.
“Why did you choose that word?” I ask, but he’s looking around me to the corner of the room where shadows are notorious for lurking.
“It was just a joke. You’re not exactly ugly, are you?” His eyes stay behind me.
I can’t even turn around to glance at who might be there. I’m taking in enough faces as I stare at Shane, seeing all the women he’s called beautiful.
I realize I’m rocking and force myself to stop.
