Page 72 of Skin Deep

“How about Augustus?” I said. “He was a Roman Emperor.”

“Augustus,” Harrison repeated.

The puppy put down the shoe and tilted his head.

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” I said. “I think we have a winner.”

“Yeah,” Harrison breathed out on my neck. Then he kissed me there. “It fits him.” He squeezed my hips, then started to move toward the table. “You ready to eat, baby? Or you want to change first? I have some clothes upstairs for you, if you want to get comfortable. I’ll set the food out.”

“Where do I go?”

“Wherever you want.” He smiled.

“Smarts-ass.” I laughed a little. “I mean, which room?”

He roared with laughter and told me where the master was. As I climbed the stairs, he watched me. I noticed there was a plastic tarp, or something similar, hanging on the wall. It was a little odd—was he going to paint? Or was there a hole in the wall? The rest of the place had amazing bones. It was light, airy, and had a good feel to it. Even though I could tell a bunch of guys were living together.

I smiled as Augustus and Newman followed me up the stairs. Even the animals were male.

“Totally outnumbered,” I said to Augustus as I entered the master bedroom. I could tell someone had cleaned it up before I got there. It smelled fresh, and clothes were folded neatly on the bed. Harrison had left out an old baseball T-shirt, sweatshirt, a pair of oversized sweatpants, and thick socks. I ran my hand over them for a second, breathing in his scent.

I tried not to concentrate on how much I’d missed it. How much I’d missed him. After mamma had called and told me to come home, I had panicked. I didn’t want to face my grandfather’s death. I also didn’t want to face the man sleeping in my bed, not sure what his answer to my question was going to be.

The entire night of the party, he’d been looking for her but doing those things for me. I was confused. And honestly, scared. If he would have rejected me, it would have been too hard to face. I took the coward’s way and left him a letter. Then I spent time with my family, preparing for an end that no one was ready for.

My grandfather was the glue to our family.

Mari was there, too, but we barely said a word to each other. Unless hitting me with water from a hose counts as talking. But the entire time, I kept watching her, and that was when I figured out what Harrison had meant. Her struggles had made her deep, or my grandfather wouldn’t have taken to her like he had.

My grandfather had found the deep in me, too, when the world could never find it.

The hot water washed away the tears on my face. His death was not something anyone who loved him would ever get over. He was that special.

“You good?”

I turned to find Harrison standing in the doorway of the bathroom. I knew that, for the next couple of weeks, it was going to be like this. And I hated myself even more when I saw the paranoia in the eyes of the people I loved.

“Bene,” I said. Even though I was thinking about my grandfather, it was too tiring to talk about. To relive. “I am almost done.”

“Take your time,” he said. “The food’s out whenever you’re ready to eat.”

It was so easy how I clung to him. How easy it was between us. We had a natural flow that I’d never experienced before. It didn’t take me long to dry my hair and slip his clothes on. I looked like I was ready for the field as I started to come down the steps, Newman above my head and Augustus trying to bite the socks. I stopped at the tarp on the wall, running my hand over it. It moved some.

A butterfly that was bigger than me was painted on the wall. It had pretty colors, all blues, and it was almost…childish, but in a whimsical way.

“Water or—” Harrison stopped in his tracks when he noticed that I’d pulled the tarp down.

“Did she do this?” My heart was pounding like thunder in my ears. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I did not realize what he’d truly done for her.

He told me he had bought a house, but I did not know—what? That she had lived here before? A rush of something ugly tore through me, this thing leaving scars. Jealousy burned and left ugly blisters, but on the inside.

He hesitated. “You know how much she loves butterflies?”

“It was a theme at the wedding.”

“Like you with sunflowers,” he said.

“I am not her,” I whispered. It was the first time I had the courage to admit it. To say it out loud.

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