“Are you okay?”
“If I say no, will it make any difference?” she asked shakily.
A bitter chuckle escaped me. “I may be an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole. If you don’t feel safe, I’ll do anything in my power. You only have to say so.”
After pulling into the garage, I helped Abbi out of the car. Her legs were still shaky as I guided her into the living room and sat her down.
“I’m going to grab the groceries. Take all the time you need to get your bearings,” I called over my shoulder.
“Reeves,” she called out.
“Yeah?” I turned around.
“Thank you for caring. I don’t know if it’s an act or real, but for what it’s worth, I appreciate it.”
She appreciated my fake caring?
I couldn’t get her words out of my head as I made trip after trip from the garage to the kitchen. I hadn’t realized her opinion of me was so low. Did the rest of the world think the same thing? Could I ever redeem myself in the eyes of the world or the woman in my living room?
On my last trip, I found Abbi in the kitchen, putting away the groceries, humming to herself. I watched as her ass swayed back and forth before I put the last of the bags down on the counter and stepped away. I needed to retreat into my lair (what I now called my bedroom since my house wasn’t my own anymore).
“Hey.” Abbi’s hand landed on the back of my arm. “Are you okay?” I didn’t like the concern I heard in her voice. Maybe it was fake? Maybe she was fake, and that’s why she thought I’d been acting.
Without turning to look at her, I answered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Her hand slipped away. “I just thought . . . I don’t know. I’ll put these away. It will be kind of fun to make my own system.”
“Have fun. I’ll be in my room or outside if you need me. I need to learn my lines.” I already had them memorized, but I hated how much it unnerved me to see her in my kitchen, making it her own.
Instead of grabbing my script, I picked up the latest Stephen King novel and headed to the back of the property to get lost in my book. I hoped being outside would give me a little clarity into my new situation. I loved looking out onto the city, especially at night when all the lights were shining. It reminded me of how small I was in this big world.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get into my book, which was abnormal for me. My mind kept going back to the grocery store, Poppy, and Abbi. To get it all out of my head, I decided to hit the pool to do some laps.
Stripping out of my clothes, I dove in and let the water slide over me. I focused on breathing and the glide of my body through the water, only thinking of my movements and breathing until I couldn’t go any further. I came up at the end of the pool with my arms resting on the warm concrete facing the house and laid my head on them as I caught my breath.
Taking a few deep breaths, I opened my eyes to find Abbi lounging out on a chair, watching me with heated eyes. Maybe diving in without putting on a pair of trunks wasn’t the wisest decision. It was going to take some time for me to get used to not having the house all to myself and being able to walk around without any clothes on if I wanted to. I was lucky there was no way for anyone to take pictures in my backyard, or I would have been in the tabloids weekly, showing all my goods for the world to see.
“Is that something you normally do?” She sat forward as if she was waiting with bated breath for my answer.
“When I can’t clear my head, it does the job.”
Abbi stared at me as if she had x-ray vision and could see my junk through the concrete. “I’m sorry to intrude. I only came out here to ask you what you wanted for dinner.”
“How long will those avocados last?”
“A few days. They were still a little hard. Why?” She cocked her head.
“Fried chicken sounds good.” I licked my lips just thinking about it.
Abbi’s eyes tracked my tongue as it swiped along the seam of my lips. “I . . . I can do that and make some mashed potatoes, green beans with garlic, and some biscuits.”
I groaned at the sound of our would-be dinner. Growing up with my father, he never cooked. It was either a frozen meal, or we ate out.
“Great,” she chirped and jumped up. “I’ll get right on it.”
As she started to walk away, the creamy skin of her legs was exposed by her shorts riding up. I noticed four small bruises on her leg and wanted to ask her about them, but she darted inside before I had a chance to open my mouth. It made me wonder how I hadn’t noticed them earlier. Had she hidden them somehow, or had she gotten them earlier at the store?
Chapter Eleven
Abbi
“Are you going to continue to avoid me?” Reeves asked, breaking me out of my cooking fog. I didn’t want to admit it, but I had been avoiding him since his eyes zeroed in on the bruises on my leg last night. Every time it seemed like he was going to mention it, I interrupted him or walked out of the room. It was childish, but I didn’t want to talk about how the bruises got there or the sex we both couldn’t remember.
“Is there a point to what you’re going to ask?”
He jerked back as if I’d slapped him. “Yeah, there is. I want to know if it was me who put those bruises on you or some other asshole.”
“You’re the only asshole who’s put bruises on me. Now can we drop it?” I wanted to turn back to frying up the bacon, not liking the way he was looking at me with his eyes zeroed in on where the bruises were hidden underneath my clothes. I was just glad he hadn’t seen the other side with its matching bruises.
“I feel strange not talking about it. I did that to you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and then grabbed the back of his neck.
It was sweet that he was concerned about me, but it wasn’t necessary. I was sure if I could remember how I got those bruises, the experience I would remember would have been quite enjoyable. I hated I couldn’t remember the one time I’d ever have sex with Reeves Jenner.
I turned back to the stove. “It’s fine,” I amended my comment. “I’m fine, so just please drop it.”
He was quiet for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry if that means anything, and if you ever want to talk about it, then I’m here.”
“Thank you. I hope you like bacon,” I said to change the subject. “I thought we could eat it with the leftover biscuits from last night if that sounds good to you.”
“I may not have liked the idea of you moving in or us having to stay married, but I have to admit, you cooking for me is worth whatever else happens.”
At least he was honest about not liking our circumstances.
“I think you’re getting more out of this than me. All I get is this gorgeous place to rest my head for the next three hundred and sixty odd days,” I joked.
“Let’s agree to disagree,” he let out a light chuckle. “What do you have planned for today?”
Plating the bacon, I pulled the biscuits out of the oven where they were warming before I placed them on the bar. “I think Catherine is sending over an email with some work for me to do. One thing I can promise you is I won’t be leaving the house.” I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to work up the nerve to leave alone. I was already thinking about asking Catherine if I could work remotely. Even though I was pretty sure she would fire me if I brought it up. “What about you?”