Page 65 of Say You Hate Me
The thought makes me giggle, and he laughs at the sound. “What’s so funny?”
I play with the fabric of his shirt. “I never would’ve guessed…”
“I think you forget, because you’ve only known me for a few weeks, that I was once married.”
I scrunch up my face. “I don’t need to be reminded.”
He moves his head up, looking down at me and moving my head to his chest so that we’re looking at each other. He runs a hand through my hair, and the motion is so tender, I have to close my eyes to squeeze the unshed tears away.
“I fucking loved being married,” he says slowly, looking away. “I’m not against monogamy, Natalia. Just because I like to fuck, doesn’t mean I can’t commit.” His words send a thrill both to my core and through my heart, piercing both in different ways. “I was a good husband. I never once cheated on Rosalina, even when presented with multiple opportunities. We were married for thirteen years. The last year was when my career really took off, and I was gone a lot. I took her for granted, and I can see that now. I’ll never make that mistake again.”
I swallow. He’s baring his truth to me. “Would you ever get married again?” I ask tentatively. I tell myself it’s because I’m curious, but I know why.
“Of course,” he answers. He looks down at me. “If I found the right person.”
I nod, trying to make myself act nonchalant. “I’ve never been in a serious relationship,” I mutter. “The closest I got was in high school. Griffin Smith. He was in a band, and he smoked a lot of pot. We dated for three months. I’ve never told anyone I love them.” I pause. “Truth be told, I think it scares me. When my parents died, the police report said they were holding hands. They died upon impact—and through death, they were holding hands. They had everything, and it all got torn away from them in an instant,” I add, my voice breaking.
Anderson pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. I suddenly feel so comfortable, so taken care of—something I haven’t felt since they were alive.
“You’re young. There’s still time to grow.”
I smile as I hiccup. “I’m not that young.”
He smiles and gives me a playful look. “You’re sixteen years younger than me.”
I shove him playfully. “Okay, whatever, old guy.” He cradles my head as I close my eyes. I could fall asleep, right here, right now. “Sometimes I think I’ll be alone forever.”
Anderson is quiet, and he stops stroking my hair. I’m too afraid of opening my eyes, too afraid of what I’ll see on his face, so instead I count the seconds until he responds, my pulse quickening.
“You’re not alone. You have me now.” When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with darkened pupils. “You have me now,” he repeats, brushing my lips with his.
37
Natalia
A glaring,obnoxious noise wakes me up the next morning, and I groggily reach for my alarm clock on the bedside table—but I hit a wall of flesh instead. Jolting upright, I look around, rubbing my eyes. Last night comes back to me, and I relax. The sex on the couch. The conversation. The sex in his shower later that night, with the waterfall showerhead raining down on us. He let me borrow a shirt and boxers, let me use his toothbrush. The notion of sharing atoothbrushwith him was almost unfathomable. But here we are, asleep in the same bed. As I’m about to wake him, he stirs.
“Holy shit,” he mumbles. “Is it five-thirty already?”
I narrow my eyes and pull the covers tighter around me. “Why do you have an alarm set for five-thirty?”
He laughs, his smile bright in the dim haze of the morning. “Yoga class.”
I groan, lying back down. “Okay, have fun, goodnight.”
He pulls the covers off me. “You’re coming with me.”
I shake my head vehemently. “Listen. I’m a morning person, don’t get me wrong, but you kept me up late last night in that luxurious shower of yours, and I’m going to need at least another hour of sleep,” I finish, sighing.
“Tough shit.” He stands up, and I notice the morning wood poking through his boxers. “If you’re good, maybe we can have round three after.”
Thatdoessound appealing. “You’re a sadist,” I mutter, climbing out of bed.
He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “You have no idea.”
A few minutes later, he hands me a pair of leggings and a woman’s sports bra. I look down at them.
“Um,” I blurt, holding them out like they have cooties.
