Page 31 of The One Who Got Away
“I think I’m broken,” she mumbled.
I laughed and moved off her to lay on my stomach beside her. “Think that makes both of us.”
She turned to face me. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I pushed a curl out of her eyes.
“For taking me here. For giving me some time with just you.”
I rolled onto my side and stroked a hand down her back. “Not just for you.”
“Just take the thank you.”
I laughed. “Taking the win.”
Her phone bleated out of the pile of clothes on the floor.
The sweet, soft, absolutely sated Eloise tightened up. She closed her eyes and put her forehead down on her arm. “What time is it?”
I slid off the bed and grabbed my jeans along with her dress, handing it to her. Her phone went off again even before she could get it out of her pocket.
I checked mine, seeing it was well after the end of her shift.
She sighed as she scooted off the bed.
“Melody?” I asked as I stepped into my jeans.
“Yeah. She’s freaking out.” The phone buzzed in her hand again, this time a ringing sound.
I couldn’t even enjoy her naked backside as she hurried out into the hallway. “Mom, yes I’m sorry I didn’t text you.” She came back in, holding her hand over the microphone. “Shit. I didn’t bring my other bag.”
“I’ll get it.” I handed her the towel to cover her so she didn’t have to struggle back into the dress.
I grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. “It’s okay,” I whispered.
But she was already closing off.
I sighed. I knew it was weighing on her how needy her mom was. Melody was forever afraid Eloise was going to leave without telling her just like her husband did.
It was irrational, but the emotional scars weren’t always easy to breathe around.
I knew that all too well.
I hurried back inside with her backpack, setting it on the bed beside her.
Her head was down as she quietly soothed her mom. “I know, I should have told you, Mom. Gus surprised me with a picnic.”
I stroked a hand down her hair and let her talk to her mom. I went back into the kitchen and cleaned up, bagged up our trash to take with us.
“Mom, I can’t be at home all the time!”
Her voice lifted and I jogged down the hallway to the bedroom.
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not leaving--Mom. You’re overreacting.”
I winced as her face fell. That wasn’t the right thing to say, even if it was true. She threw her phone on the bed and put her face in her hands. Instead of tears it was a guttural scream.
I sat beside her and gathered her in.
