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But it was hard to stay in an optimistic headspace when his love for her had been painfully drilled into my heart and soul.
That thought was cut off, interrupted by a robotic voice—a new one I had chosen before coming into this room.
It had been hard to be in the basement again. It was hard to pass by the door where our first memories together were made.
But it was interesting to see the room I could only think of as the backstage set-up full of technology, gadgets, and cameras, including one that pointed from a peculiar part of my pink room. I should have known that damn stuffed bear couldn't be trusted, with his beady brown eyes, always on me.
The voice repeated what it said, as I didn’t hear it the first time.
“I’m fine, cuore mio. You’re the one who doesn’t seem happy.”
“I’m confused,” I admitted. “How can such strong feelings just change?”
He raised my chin with two fingers and smiled at me like I was the best damn thing in the world. “Guilt stepped aside.”
I smiled, too, my fingers keen to explore him while my eyes avoided him. “What does cuore mio mean? You’ve called me that a lot.”
“It means my heart, in Italian.”
My smile grew and I started to feel like I was the best thing in the world to him...after the cannoli he reached for, of course.
“Sweet mother, you’re up!” Trix said, walking into the kitchen where I sat on Mercer’s lap at the breakfast bar. Ethan was close on her heels, stomping all over her shadow while he spoke on the phone.
“How are you doing, Feebee darling?” She stopped at my side, her soft touch gracing my arm. “I wanted to come check on you yesterday, but this one,” her finger stabbed into the air, pointing at Mercer, “wouldn’t leave your side.”
He hadn’t. And I appreciated that. Yesterday hurt, but it showed me what I needed to see...that Mercer cared about me.
“I’m okay. Thoughts drift in now and again, but I feel okay.”
“I’m glad, and I’m glad you pair made up.” Trix pulled out a seat, and Ethan helped her climb up as if the sturdy old broad was incapable.
He hung up his call, to who, I assumed was his step-brother, by the way Mercer scowled in his direction.
I didn’t take it as a threat. As pain over Chandelle. Not when Mercer still had one hand in my hair and the other sharing his cannoli between us. It was just the betrayal...of someone he thought of as family. I knew the feeling well. And that thought had me tensing, too. Had me itching.
Another kiss landed on my forehead, brushing away agonizing thoughts of abuse.
Trix interrupted us, “But now that you’re a little more than friends,” she said, pouring tea from another vintage teapot. “Can you be more than friends a little quieter going forward? Some of us need beauty sleep.” She fluffed her hair. “And I could hear you all the way down the hall.”
“I second that.” Ethan held out his cup, waiting for Trix to fill it before taking a seat.
I couldn’t turn to face them with my heated cheeks pink with embarrassment. I stayed locked on Mercer, who looked incredibly pleased with the remarks.
He fed me another cannoli, the munchies getting the better of me, but at least that was the only reason my stomach cried out today. He had taken my pain away, stored it somewhere with his own, and set them aside for us to live in harmony.
Standing from the stool, Mercer held me in his arms because who the hell knew where my wheelchair was. It was probably still sideways on my bedroom floor. I pictured the wheel spinning as it had been yesterday, and Damiano’s face filled my head, his ugly expression haunting me. His dirty breath, too.
The nightmare was flicked away by Mercer’s hand caressing my lower spine, quick to pull down my shirt, which had risen to reveal a lace pair of underwear.
“I hope you’re going back to bed,” Trix said, filling her mouth with breakfast foods, tea, and then more breakfast foods.
A curt nod was all she was getting from this silent man, and I was still too busy practicing calming methods to answer.
Mercer clocked this, running gentle fingers all over me.
With a full mouth, Ethan added, “Yeah, because you look like shit. Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
My fingers rubbed over Mercer’s face, which they thought looked less than perfect. My racing heart disagreed as I smiled over his dark stubble, tanned skin that had been gifted by his Italian heritage, and the crystal blue eyes of his mother. He looked perfect to me.
