Page 230 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
I don’t hesitate to tell Ambrose what happened, the words fall out of me. “He called me ugly. It was a joke, but it hurt. I don’t know if you know the details of what happened that night you pulled him away from me?” I keep my head low and tread carefully, not wanting this to escalate.
Shane has never been fond of Ambrose, and the feeling is mutual.
“But we were arguing over him messaging other women. I saw lots of stuff on his phone where they were all in underwear, and I told him he should leave because of it. He told me I was overreacting, and things blew up from there. He called them all beautiful. So, to make a joke where he calls me ugly, it hurts.” I brave a glance at his face. “Please, don’t say it’s my own fault for acknowledging him another time.”
Ambrose shakes his head, and it feels like he’s saying anything but I told you so.
“I know you guys aren’t keen on each other.”
A noise leaves him, and I don’t know what he’s feeling right now.
“But if we can make amends, maybe you guys can, too. Who knows, maybe you’ll actually be friends one day. I’m not sure if he’s joking or not, but Shane has mentioned you walking me—”Ambrose shushes me for the first time. Like, he knows what I’m about to say about him walking me down the aisle.
His enchanting eyes flick to my ring finger. Every color, green, brown, hazel, all dance in the natural light, and that love heart stands out. But no ring shines in the natural light, peeping in from the window. It’s still missing from that night.
Not fucking happening,those silent words slap me in the face as our eyes meet.
The sheen glossing his eyes matches mine. I find it hard to pull myself away from him, from the way he looks at me and the way my reflection gazes back at me in them. I’ve never had issues looking Ambrose in the eyes…everyone else, yes. Never him.
Before I know it, I’m staring.
I’m leaning into him and the comfort he offers.
“I’m sorry.” I pull back. “I’m just feeling down.” I dip my head again. “Why did he have to use that word?”
Shrugging, Ambrose fails to give me an answer.
It should have been expected. I am asking the wrong man, after all.
Pushing myself up, Bubbles stands with me and taps her way to the door before I move.
I can’t move.
Lowering my gaze, I stare down at our joined hands and Ambrose staring up at me. My eyes flick between the two, taking in the melancholy look embedded in all of his features.
What would he look like without all that paint?
Devastating.
He’d look devastating. In that baby pink hoodie he’s wearing.
God…
The image fills my head, washing away the diamond eyes, red lips, and the ghostly complexion that hides his golden skin tone. I picture him with a smile that isn’t made any less perfect by a missing premolar.
The more time we spend staring at each other, the more I think he doesn’t wear any of that makeup to frighten me, but more so, to face his own demons.
A soft thumb brushes over my hand, calling my attention down. My chest rises and falls, each breath so hard and deep that he must think I’m close to hyperventilating, and that’s why he’s trying to comfort me.
Our scars do that, somehow, lining up so perfectly, they no longer seem like a flaw.
His thumb slows down before ceasing to move on my skin.
God, why did he stop.
His other hand points to a word in the book when I gaze at him. I sink down to get a better look, my sad eyes making it difficult to see from this height.
My favorite seat takes my weight again.
