To Have It All(77)
Walking into the living room, I stared at the bedroom door wondering if I should go in. I knew Waverly was upset, and I wanted to comfort her; be there for her, but I also wanted to give her space if that’s what she needed. My jaw was throbbing—Matt had a good right hook—and I was amped. I needed to calm down. A shower would help me relax and maybe by then she’d be ready to talk. Even if she wasn’t ready; even if she didn’t speak one word I was going to hold her.
After Matt left, I checked on Pim who was sound asleep. I hated she had experienced something so scary and confusing. After splashing some water on my face, I cleaned myself up. Matt’s words had been brutal; a reminder of a shameful and humiliating time in my life. Everything he said had been true and to return to Max would have been insane, but there was no way to explain to Matt what was actually happening. Instead, I had to stand there, frozen, and let him take me down like a duck in water. Then I watched as my brother, the pillar in my life, got into a physical fight with Liam who he thought was Max, then walked out hurt. The feeling was so awful it was choking me.
When I’d calmed down, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. Matt’s words had been like a punch to the gut, the blow riddled with reminders of a time when I had been at my lowest. When I funneled down after Max cut me off, I knew I’d hit a bad point; I knew I looked like I had fallen into the deepest realm of depression, and how pathetic I must have appeared, but I’d never heard Matt describe it.
His words had been hard to hear, but as I stared at my reflection, I realized I wasn’t the woman Matt had described anymore. I was no longer pathetic or ridiculous. I had hit bottom and clawed my way back up. After Max left I spent so much time thinking about what was wrong with me—what had made me so easy to leave? I tortured myself with ideas that maybe if I’d been smarter, wealthier, had a degree, or even prettier that maybe Max wouldn’t have disowned us. Those were all ridiculous thoughts, but when someone you love flips the switch—just decides they are done with you—your mind can come up with all kinds of ways to justify it and mine turned to self-loathing. Max had turned me into a weak woman, but I wasn’t weak any more. I was strong, and I was a good mother, and never thought of myself as vain or shallow, but yeah, I looked fucking good for a lady who’d had a baby. I was better now and knew my worth. I realized, however cruel this situation seemed, I had a chance to feel love from a man I respected. This might be my one and only opportunity to be with Liam, and no matter what happened the following day, I didn’t want to miss that opportunity. There was a good chance Liam would die the following day, and the thought was enough to cause me to double over if I let it. But the thought of never feeling him in that way, the way a man and a woman connect on the deepest of levels, was just as debilitating of a thought. On some level, I struggled with the decision; was it right considering all the unknowns? Would doing this only hurt me in the end? I also pondered whether Liam would be open to it. I didn’t doubt that he wanted me, I just doubted if he could make love to me in Max’s body.
Chewing my lip as I stared at my reflection, I wondered how to go about it—how could I make Liam feel comfortable.
I knew Liam was worried about me seeing Max whenever I looked at him, but I had an idea of what to do about that. I’d found the blindfold in Max’s nightstand drawer when I was—not proud to admit it—snooping days before. I’d also found the large box of condoms in his bathroom closet, which made me cringe, but tonight they would come in handy. I didn’t let myself think about how ironic it was that I was taking condoms from my ex to use with the man inhabiting his body. It was a little too much to get into. Feeling I had a plan, at least for the most part, I raised my chin and stared into my own eyes.
“You can do this,” I told myself.
After I stripped down, I brushed my tangled hair caused by a day of riding on the back of the motorcycle, touched up my makeup and cleaned up.
Staring at myself in the mirror one last time, I inhaled a deep breath. “Here we go,” I told my reflection.
Grabbing the blindfold and a few condoms, I tiptoed by Pim before peeking out the bedroom door, The light leaking out from a crack in the guest bathroom cued me that Liam had climbed in the shower. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I knew I wanted Liam to be as naked as me when he found me. The thought made me feel like we would be on equal footing even though he’d be able to see and I wouldn’t. So, moving stealthily, I snuck into the guest bathroom and stole his clothes and towel.
Then . . . bare and vulnerable, I waited blindly for him to find me.
In the guest bathroom, I turned the water as hot as I could bear and stayed in there until my skin was bright red and the water began to turn cold. By the time I stepped out it had probably been over half an hour and the tension I’d been feeling had begun to wash away. My jaw, though somewhat swollen, was throbbing a little less, courtesy of the whiskey.
Looking around the bathroom, I twisted my mouth. Where was the towel I’d brought in? And my clothes. Where the hell were my clothes?
Soaking wet, I contemplated what to do. I could use the bath mat, but that wouldn’t even wrap around me, it was so small. I had nothing to put on. Growing up, my grandmother hated when we let water drip on the floor after a shower. It was a pet peeve of hers and one that had stuck with me, but I didn’t have a choice. I had no towel. Dripping across the floor, I cracked the bathroom door open and stuck my head out.