Vanessa rubs her lips together, seeming to contemplate something. “Can we watch Beverly Hills, 90210?”
“Anything for my girl,” I blurt, reddening at how easily I said that. Vanessa, thankfully, ignores me.
I log in and put the show on where we left off, and Vanessa somehow manages to burrow further into the blankets, looking like some sort of little woodland creature in a nest.
“Comfy?”
She gives a small giggle in reply that I take as a yes.
The show starts and we’re both silenced, and somehow, despite being locked in my prison once more, I manage to actually fall asleep.
A head is tucked beneath my chin, a thick tuft of curly hair tickling my nose and soft breaths gusting against my neck. It should be the most uncomfortable position, but I find myself not wanting to move and grinning to myself instead. If Vanessa woke up right now and found herself octopused around me, she’d be horrified, but somehow in her sleep, she sought my body out for comfort in the night, and in my unconscious state, I still managed to open my arms to comfort her.
Nuzzling my nose against her freshly washed hair, I inhale the scent that’s not her normal one. I never used to think much about relationships and what came with them, not the easy stuff or the hard stuff, or even the little things in between like cuddling. But with my arms wrapped around Vanessa right now, I find that I like cuddling more than I ever thought I would.
I allow myself a few precious moments longer before I slide out of the bed, careful not to wake her. Taking soft steps across the room, I shut the door behind me quietly and take a piss before I brush my teeth. My clothes from yesterday are where I left them, and I go ahead and change into them, glad to be rid of the too-short sweatpants.
I expect Vanessa to be up when I reenter the room, but she’s still snoozing away with her arms now wrapped around my pillow and one leg thrown on top of the covers. I chuckle to myself, amused. I scribble a note, letting her know I’ll be back. The last thing I want is her leaving the room without me and getting lost. That’s exactly the kind of ammunition my father doesn’t need.
I allow myself a few more seconds to look at her peaceful sleeping face, pink lips slightly parted with light breaths. She looks so at ease and content.
Forcing myself away, I shut the door behind me and go in search of coffee. At least I don’t have to run with Mascen this morning. Thank Lord Disick for that.
Down to the kitchen I go, and my luck must be good because I don’t run into either of my parents along the way, and I know neither will be in here. Sometimes I wonder if either of them set foot in a kitchen even when they were children.
“Hey, Constance,” I say to one of the cooks. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it looks like she’s making some sort of scone.
“Mr. Teddy.” She smiles big and wide. “Good to see you. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Liar,” I joke, heading to the coffee pot shared by the staff. “You’re all a bunch of gossips, and I’m sure these weekly dinners have been a big topic of conversation.”
“They have,” she chortles, cutting into the dough. Across from her, Roger, another cook, merely shakes his head.
“So, what are you all saying?” I reach for a coffee mug and pour myself a cup, dumping in a mountain of cream and sugar. I need the fucking sweetness today. I fix a cup for Vanessa too, all the while waiting for an answer. Turning to Constance with the mugs in hand, I arch a brow prompting her to finally reply.
She wipes flour covered fingers on a rag and gives me a smile. “The girl … she is good for you. Just what you need. Your father…” She says no more, we both know she doesn’t need to.
“It’s good to see you, Constance.” I drop a kiss on her cheek before I head for the swinging door.
She laughs behind me. “Ever the charmer, Mr. Teddy.”
When I return to the bedroom, Vanessa is beginning to stir. She groans, stretching her arms above her head. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight.”
“Ugh.” She sits up, rubbing her temples. “I feel like I’m getting a migraine. How the hell do you wake up with one of those?”
“Take this, maybe it’ll help.” I hold out the mug to her—plain white and lacking any sort of personality, of course—and she takes it with a grateful smile.
“Bless you, kind sir.” Pushing her unruly hair from her eyes, she stifles a yawn. After a hearty sip of coffee and a moan that goes straight to my groin, she asks, “When can we blow this popsicle stand?”
I sit down on the chair in the corner of the room, putting distance between us before I do something stupid like kiss her.
“After breakfast.” I know if we sneak out before then it will lead to an argument I don’t want to deal with. “Constance is making scones,” I say enticingly when she gives me a sour look.
Stifling another yawn, she says, “I’m not sure I’m ready to face your father after dinner last night.”
“I never want to face my father.”
Her lips downturn. “You should never have to be in the same room as your abuser. That’s not fair.”
I take a couple of gulps of coffee before replying. “He’s my father. It’s not like I have a choice.”
She swipes her tongue over her lips, ridding them of a drop of coffee. “That’s not fair.”
I stand up, heading over to one of the large windows and pushing the button to open the blinds. “I know it isn’t, but what am I going to do about it? He’s my father.” Shoving my fingers through my hair, I swallow the rest of my coffee. “That’s why you’re helping me, remember? I have to get my inheritance, so I never have to deal with his bullshit ever again.”
She clutches the sheets in her empty hand, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. I can see the sympathy in her eyes, but I’m thankful that she doesn’t voice it. It’s not something I want to hear, because she’s not the one who needs to apologize. Not that I ever expect to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ ever leave my father’s mouth.
Taking another sip of coffee, she places the mug on the night table and slips from the bed. I try not to ogle her ass in a pair of blue striped panties poking out from beneath my old t-shirt, but it’s a colossal failure. By some miracle she doesn’t notice my gaze burning a hole into her ass and says she’s going to get ready, the door to the bathroom closing behind her.
Downing the rest of my coffee I hope the sugar hits my system fast.
Too short of a time later, Vanessa emerges from the bathroom ready to face the breakfast gauntlet.
She doesn’t complain when I take her hand and hold on tightly as we take the main staircase to the downstairs. When we reach the bottom, she gives me a reassuring squeeze and a small smile.
All my stress is for nothing because when we step into the dining room, the only person waiting for us is my mother.
The audible sigh of relief that comes out of my chest is embarrassing, but Vanessa doesn’t comment on it.
My mom smiles, her eyes glimmering with absolute delight at our clasped hands. I lean into Van, placing a kiss on her cheek before I pull out the chair for her to sit down.
“You two look well-rested,” my mom comments, setting aside her iPad where she reads the morning paper. “You had a good night, I take it?”