Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(36)
Without warning, Thu threw her head back and laughed, making everyone jump. Ending the cackle as abruptly as she’d started it, she pointed a finger at Rake. “You don’t tell me what to do, asshole.”
Rake held up his palms in defense. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to sit here and listen to you berate Lizzie like this. Do you really think she isn’t confused enough? That we aren’t confused enough? And scared shitless and asking ourselves all these same questions? Because we are. Was this planned? No. Do we have a plan? Not really, but we’re working on it. You shaming her isn’t going to make this process any easier. Lizzie doesn’t need someone pointing out all the reasons this situation is less than ideal. She needs a friend.” Rake turned suddenly, aggressively, to face Lizzie. She stared at him with wide eyes. “My middle name is Arthur. I was born on January 23. I’m an only child.”
Rake continued to stare at her, Lizzie blinking back, trying to process all the different signals vying for her attention. After a moment Rake cocked an impatient eyebrow.
“Well?” he pressed, waving his hand. “Tell me yours.”
Lizzie snapped out of it. “My middle name is Marie. It’s boring and common, and I’ve always hated it. I was born on April 1, and I have an older brother named Ryan. And a sister-in-law named Mary. She’s perfect.”
Rake nodded once. “Great. I look forward to meeting them.” Then, without preamble, he turned back to the table, clapping his hands together. “Now that Lizzie and I obviously know each other, I think it’s best if we go. You’ve sufficiently upset her, and I’d like to take her home to rest.” He stood, holding out a hand for Lizzie.
In a daze, she took it, looking between her friends. Indira’s mouth still dangled open, and Thu sat there with a blank look on her face, the first time Lizzie had ever seen her lost for words. Harper’s eyes flicked back and forth between Lizzie and Rake in a blur, but Dan met Lizzie’s gaze with an unabashed grin, one eyebrow giving the subtlest arch of approval before Rake placed his hand on Lizzie’s lower back and guided her to the door.
Chapter 19
THE walk home with Lizzie was silent. Sad.
At a bodega near Rake’s hotel, Lizzie stopped, telling him to wait there as she popped inside. After a few minutes, she reappeared in front of him, plastic bag swinging, as they continued their silent walk back to the hotel and up to his room.
Inside, Lizzie kicked off her sandals and pulled the earrings from her ears, tossing them on the dresser.
Rake leaned against the wall, watching her. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. He had absolutely no clue what the right words would be for this situation.
“No,” she snapped, moving farther into the room. Rake blew out a breath. He didn’t know how to do this. Any of it. She needed comfort and support, and all he was capable of was standing there like an absolute twat as she continued to hurt.
“I’m gonna have a shower, then,” he said, heading toward the bathroom.
He rinsed off quickly, replaying the disastrous dinner on loop. He sensed the true gravity of Lizzie’s hurt when he walked back into the room twenty minutes later and found her sitting on the bed, eyes somewhere far away while tears rolled down her cheeks. In a dazed state, she brought the nozzle of a whipped cream canister to her lips and sprayed a mountain of foam into her mouth.
Rake felt rooted to the spot. He didn’t know her well enough to know how to help her. She had said she didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t want to push her, but he also didn’t know how to comfort her.
Rake cleared his throat, and Lizzie slowly resurfaced from the deep recesses of her thoughts, blinking and looking around the room until her eyes landed on his. They stared at each other for a moment, the heavy weight of vulnerability threatening to push them deep into their awkward shells.
Then, she gave him a sad smile and held out the whipped cream can. Rake moved into action, sliding onto his side of the bed and leaning on the headboard next to her. He took the can and squirted a mouthful of whipped cream into his mouth, passing it back to her. They sat like that for a few minutes, the hiss of the whipped cream nozzle filling the room.
“Still don’t want to talk about it?” he asked, then opened his mouth wide for Lizzie to fill it with the sugary sweetness. He’d forgotten how delicious whipped cream was. But everything seemed to taste better around Lizzie.
“No,” she responded curtly, nearly drowning him in cream then filling her own throat.
Rake swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” He opened his mouth again for another hit.
She looked at him for a second, almost like she expected him to push.
Rake saw the exact moment wariness was replaced with mischievousness in her golden eyes. She brought the can to his face, but instead of putting the nozzle in his mouth, she moved it at the last moment and dropped a dollop on his nose.
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Rake said, fluffy bunches of cream blowing from his nostrils at the laugh he couldn’t hold in.
Lizzie let out her signature sonic boom of a giggle, giving him a whipped cream mustache for good measure.
“I just showered!” He jolted away from another incoming attack, turning and rolling so her hand with the can was pinned to the mattress and her laughing smile right below him.