I rose from the chair and entered the kitchen.
“Don’t come in here,” said Penelope. “It’s disgusting.”
“I removed my jacket. I can help.”
Her eyes grew wide and teary again. Having me witness the squalor that was once her life was understandably difficult for her. Even if my body hadn’t been so addicted to hers and I hadn’t fallen under the spell of her beauty, knowing Penelope as one human knew another, I would have done everything in my power to help her flourish and succeed.
“No, please don’t,” she implored.
“I’ll order a cleaner for tomorrow. I’ll request they come every week.” I removed the decrepit dishcloth from her hand.
She gulped back emotion staring at her feet. I lifted her chin. I wanted to tell her it was okay, that I understood, and that I’d lived in a similar hovel before moving to Raven Abbey.
Penelope lowered the volume on the TV, telling her mother, “Just for a minute while I order that pizza.”
Sandy nodded before staring blankly at the screen again. I’d almost become invisible, which was fine. Questions were never my thing.
After Penny finished the call, she lowered herself down on the couch and sat next to her mother. “We aren’t going to stay. I’ve ordered the pizza. Blake wanted to meet you. We’re together. I want to find you a flat, somewhere nice, away from here. What do you think?”
“No. I’m staying here. This is my life. My friends are here. The only time I’m leaving is in a bag.”
A deep, frustrated breath shot out from Penelope. “That will be soon if you keep this up.”
“Don’t talk so loudly, love.” She attempted a smile. “This is my life. You’ve got yourself a nice boyfriend, and I’m happy. Really happy that my beautiful girl’s making a good life for herself.”
“But we could pay for rehab and move you into a nice flat. Frank could even visit.”
“No,” she insisted. “I like it here. And no rehab. I’m happy.”
I interjected, “If there’s anything you need…”
She stared up at me. “Some cash would be good.” Her frailty vanished with those words, and suddenly, she’d become an opportunist. Pure survival mode.
“Mom!” Penelope rose and stood before her with her hands on her hips as though their roles had changed, which I sensed had happened a long time ago. I wondered if Penelope had even had a childhood.
“Right, then,” Penelope said. “I’ll order food and have it delivered. The cupboards and fridge will be filled every week. I’ll hire a cleaner. But I’m not handing over cash. You’ll only shoot it up.”
Now I understood why Penelope wore fear in her face at the mention of drama, and why at times, instead of the youthful nonchalance befitting a twenty-three-year-old, her face wore the world-weary expression of someone double her age.
I’d buried the stench of my past so deep that I’d forgotten what it smelled like until then.
38
* * *
PENELOPE
IT HAD BEEN A ROUGH night. Visiting my mother with Blake had brought up all kinds of emotions—namely, guilt and helplessness.
How the hell am I going to save her?
Blake handed me a stiff drink, which I really needed. His eyes touched mine, and a gentle caress followed. I released a tight breath.
“Do you think I should be doing more?”
He studied me. “For your mother?”
“Yes. Do you think I should force her into rehab?”
“She’d have to be willing, and from what I observed, she’s not.”
“True.” I visualized a couple of men taking her screaming into a car and me watching on twisted with despair. “If I don’t force her, I’ll be forever haunted, knowing that I could’ve done more. But if I do, then it will have to be heavy-handed.” I laid my face in my hands.
Blake sat next to me on the bed and placed his arm around me as a brother would. I needed it that way—not as that hungry lover but as an understanding soul. He’d become both, which had one side of my spirit soaring while the other shriveled.
“You’re not acting irresponsibly. The fact that you’re concerned for her well-being speaks volumes.”
Tears poured down my face. “I’ve never cried so much, Blake. You must think I’m a weak, helpless child.”
He stretched over for the tissues and handed me a few. “It’s okay. You’re a sensitive woman, even if you seem stronger than me at times.” His eyes shone with sincerity.
“How could that be? I’m a dribbling mess,” I said.
“At least you’re willing to look life squarely in the face. There’s an honesty about who you are.”
“And you aren’t?”
He took a deep breath. “There are many skeletons I left behind. One day I’ll open that cupboard, but for now, I’ll just continue to shed a skin. Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to me?”
“I feel lighter around you, Penelope. Although the background noise is getting louder.”
“Dylan Fox?”
He nodded grimly and finished his drink in one gulp. He rose. “Let’s not do this now. Let’s just try to help your mom. I’m sure we can find a way.”
I smiled sadly. “Thanks.”
“Hey. It’s me that should be thanking you.”
“Why’s that?”
“For having the courage to invite me into who you really are.” He held up the decanter, poured some more into a glass, and took a sip. I could see that the night had affected him as deeply as it had me.
Blake strolled over to his jacket and removed his cell. “I’m waiting to hear from James.”
“Anything?” I asked as he scrolled down his messages.
He shook his head. “Let’s forget all about it for now.”
I removed my cardigan. The room as always was very warm, so I headed for the French doors to the balcony.
“No. Don’t open them, just take off your clothes.” His commanding tone had returned. Instead of repelling me, it aroused me.
“I just need to taste you.” His lips touched my neck, which sent ripples through me.
I smelled his arousal mingled with that fine cologne, which traveled straight to my sex. His fingers undid my bra clasp, and my breasts fell heavily onto his hands.
“I need to look at you.” His voice was strained with longing.
A deep ache overwhelmed me. I removed my clothes, while Blake, the voyeur, sat back and watched, his legs slightly apart to allow room for his growing erection.
“Maybe I should learn a few moves. You know, like a stripper,” I said with a nervous giggle. I preferred being in the dark without his eyes all over my chubby bits.
“No. I hate that sleazy shit.”
I stood before him, naked except for my panties. “And this isn’t?”
“It’s very different. We’re lovers.” He stared at me with that aroused look he got whenever I was naked. He made me feel like I was the most desirable woman in the world. “Remove the panties, and go over to the table.”