Page 20 of Honeybees and Sexy Tees
“I’m sorry.” I stood up and stepped off the patio, walking through the yard, which was lit only by the tiki torches and the fire blazing behind me. It was eerie but also soothing. I liked hiding in the shadows, and I was incredibly good at it. I’d been doing it my entire life.
I rubbed my arms to quell the goose bumps as I peered through the darkness toward the back of the property. I wanted to move in, but I couldn’t get past the part where he was going to live here too. If I lived here, we’d be roommates. The swell of an idea hit me, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. One day he was going to bring a woman home to sit at my beautiful, rugged, distressed farm table. The farm table I’d dreamed about sharing with him forever, right or wrong. I dreamed that we’d sit and share a cup of coffee and laugh like we used to before all of this happened. Before he knew the truth about my feelings for him. Now the truth was in front of me, and I couldn’t pretend or dream it away any longer.
I squatted down and grabbed my head, moaning at the idea that I’d one day be faced with his girlfriend at my breakfast table wearing nothing but a skimpy tank top and a smile. “No, no, no,” I cried, resting my head on my knees. “Why, God?”
His arms came around me gently and lifted me from the ground. “Honey? Are you okay? Headache?”
All the oxygen had been sucked out of the space around us, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop the one lonely tear from tracking down my face, and I couldn’t wipe it away. He stood there in the dark with me, his strong arms holding me up when all my knees wanted to do was collapse. While the fire crackled behind us, and the cool breeze blew against my skin, I vowed to myself this would be the last time I would let him hold me up.
I had to learn to stand on my own two feet, and a little voice warned me that moving into this house would never allow me to do that.
CHAPTER 6
The sun shone warm against my face when I rolled over, snuggled against the pillow, and inhaled the scent of bacon and eggs. A smile tipped my lips. “Saturday breakfast buffet in the diner,” I whispered aloud. “Maybe later.”
Slowly, the thought that the sun shouldn’t be shining on my face worked its way past the sleepiness, and my eyes popped open.Where was I?After blinking twice, I focused on the window. The window that let me look out at the lake from my bed.
I sat straight up, patting the mattress around me, and then I remembered. Mathias had put me to bed in the new house last night. I glanced down at myself to see I was wearing nothing but my tank top and underwear.
I flopped back against the pillow.Did I undress myself or did Mathias do it for me?I wondered. Sitting up again, I scanned the floor. My clothes were discarded in a messy pile by the bed, which told me I had been the one to strip them off. Thank God. At least he didn’t see me in my underwear. Not that it mattered, but still, thank God.
I swung my feet over the bed and noticed a pile of clothes at the end of it. I lifted a note placed on top of the pile and read it aloud, “Honey, grab a shower and put these on. I’ll have breakfast waiting. M.” The pile of clothes held a pair of khaki shorts, a cute pleated top, and underclothes that I was embarrassed to think he had seen. At least the underwear was new. I grabbed the clothes and headed to the bathroom. “Whatever, Honey. He’s probably seen more bras and panties than you have in the last ten years.”
I made it to the bathroom, closed the door, leaned against it, and took a deep breath before I stepped to the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. “What are you going to do now, smarty-pants?” I asked the woman staring back at me. My head dropped, and I spun around, flicking the handle up on the shower. I ripped my tank top over my head and climbed in, enjoying the warm water against my skin.
Yesterday had been a ridiculously long day, and today was going to be another one. “What is your problem, woman?” I asked myself aloud. “You’re not a fifteen-year-old girl anymore. You’re twenty-eight, and you have to make a decision. You keep letting him have you another day and another day. Your whole life has been just another day. How long are you going to do that?”
Forever.
My love for Mathias couldn’t be shut off like a faucet just because I wanted it to. Love didn’t work that way. Not when you were that connected to another human soul. A thread had been tied between us that day in the park. A thread even death wouldn’t cut. I wish there were a pair of scissors sharp enough to sever it just so I could go on with my life without him, but there wasn’t. That was one thing I knew with certainty in this crazy, uncertain world.
I shut the water off and my hair, way too unruly to wash and style here, was damp on the edges when I dried off and got dressed. I tied it up in a ponytail and let the warm summer air do the job of drying it. I made the bed, partly to put off going downstairs, but also so the room looked the way it had the first time I saw it. I never wanted that moment to fade from my memory. It was too beautiful. I ran my hand over the chenille bedspread, the design bumpy yet soft under my fingers.
“If only that weren’t my first and last night in this house,” I whispered as I picked up my shoes and left the room.
I couldn’t move in with him. I had decided that last night in the middle of my meltdown. The idea of coming face-to-face with another woman was more than I could bear. It was better to not put myself in that kind of situation, because I knew it was inevitable. At least at my apartment, I could pretend like it wasn’t happening.
The stairs creaked as I walked down them with my shoes swinging in my right hand and my left hand sliding down the railing. The house smelled wonderful, and my stomach growled in anticipation of the breakfast to come. I set my shoes by the door and padded into the kitchen, where Mathias stood at the table, dishing out eggs onto two plates.
He glanced up from his task and smiled. “I heard you in the shower,” he explained when he finished scooping. He set the pan back on the stove and wiped his hands on his apron, which I noted was ruffled and had a giant chicken on the front. He walked toward me, and even in that apron, he was the sexiest damn man alive. His eyes were sharp and assessing, and when his hand grasped my chin, he tipped my head to the right. “Damn it,” he sighed. “I so want that look gone from your eyes.”
“What look? It’s the same old Honey,” I insisted, but he shook his head.
“No, it’s the same old Mathias.” His hand fell away from my face, and he turned, grabbed the plates, and motioned for me to go out the Dutch door. I held it for him, and he set the plates down on a table that had magically appeared on the patio. I raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled as he held the chair for me to sit in. “I found it in the garage with the honey equipment. I thought it would serve a better purpose out here. It’s gorgeous out this morning.”
“I can’t disagree.” I dug into breakfast and moaned a little after the first few bites. “This is great, thank you. I was starving.”
He nodded, his head tucked toward his own plate. “It’s been hours since we ate last. Well, at least since you ate. I was up half the night and snacked.”
“Why were you up half the night, and where did all this food come from?” It suddenly dawned on me that we shouldn’t have food here.
He lowered his fork and flicked his gaze toward me. “Since I was planning to move in, I stocked the fridge and cupboards.”
“Where did these clothes come from?” I crunched into a piece of bacon while I waited for his answer.
“Found them in the smaller bedroom. The estate company must have missed them when they cleaned the place out. They’re the right size and everything.”
I rolled my eyes to the sky. “Size six is a common size, Mathias. It’s probably a few sizes bigger than you prefer, at least according to your Instagram feed.”
