Page 4 of Desire Him

CHAPTER TWO

Val wakes up the next morning to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. No. Not her window. She cracks open an eye. Not her room, either. She’s familiar with the black curtains that block out the light, the dresser that squats beside it, and the four-poster bed she had fallen into last night.

An arm around her bare middle squeezes while she gets a look around from the position she’s laying in. She’s in Wayne’s room, and though she’s disoriented from the late night she had last night, she remembers everything that happened.

She peeks a look at Wayne next to her. His face is relaxed as he continues to sleep.

She breathes his scent in deeply and then smiles to herself. Last night, she had done it. She told him everything she’d bottled up for years. Today should be a great day. Today, they’ll be able to discuss where they stand and where they go from here. She’s nervous about that conversation though. That kind of conversation has only ever happened in her best dreams.

Her stomach growls, and she sighs. She doesn’t know what time it is, but she does know one thing: Eme and Logan are going to have to fend for themselves for breakfast. Normally, she would be there already.

Gently, she moves his arm off of her stomach, and she sits up. She sneaks from the bed, scooting to the edge and sliding off, and picks through the clothes to find her own. She gets dressed as silently as she can, almost tipping over at one point.

Without a sound, she makes her way to his bedroom door. She peeks one last glance at him, smiles, and dips into the hallway. There’s nothing better than breakfast after a night of sex, and she has every intention of making today the best day of her life.

Once in the kitchen, she opens the fridge and stares at its contents. She had gone shopping for him the day before yesterday, so his fridge is fully stocked. There are vegetables, meat and eggs, juice and milk, and a variety of other things.

Making a choice, she scoops out the carton of eggs and sets it on the counter. Next, she takes out the bacon sitting next to the hamburger meat along with the green pepper and onion on the second shelf.

Once all items are waiting by the stove, she digs into the lower cabinet for two stainless-steel pans. She hums to herself as she sets them on the stove and lights the gas fire underneath them to heat them up.

She puts a few slices of bacon in one of the pans. An omelet may not be a grand breakfast, but it’s better than nothing.

Skipping to the cupboard, she grabs a chopping board and a sharp knife from the knife block on the counter. She gets busy, chopping the onion and the green pepper while the bacon sizzles in the pan.

Once that’s done, Val heads back to the empty pan, greases it, and cracks open the eggs. The eggs immediately begin to cook, and she waits there, spatula in hand, for it to be ready to flip.

It doesn’t take her long at all to have the breakfast nearly ready, and as she’s plating, she hears Wayne exit his bedroom, yawning.

“It smells good,” he says as he takes a seat on a stool at the small island. His blond hair is tousled, and the skin around his eyes is puffy.

“You look like hell,” she says, heading to the fridge to retrieve the orange juice. She withdraws a cup from the top cupboard and brings both the juice and the cup to the island. The juice sloshes as she pours it into the cup and slides it next to Wayne’s plate.

“I feel like hell.” He digs into his eggs.

She nibbles on her lip. How does she start this conversation? “I-”

“What the hell happened last night?” he interrupts around a mouthful of food.

Frowning, she cocks her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

He pauses his fork midway to his mouth. “The last thing I remember is a drinking game with Draven.”

She blinks at him, her heart breaking. “You . . . you don’t remember anything?”

His eyebrows pinch together as he thinks it over. “No. Not a thing.”

Val wants to curse. She wants to cry. She can do none of those things though because Wayne wouldn’t understand why. He doesn’t remember a thing. Not a moment they shared together, not a word she said to him.

Wayne watches Val’s face pale. Her eyes become watery, and she turns away from him quickly. Clearly, he said something wrong, but why would she care that he doesn’t remember?

She moves to the stove and gathers up the pans, setting them in the sink. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

She says nothing as she turns on the water and dumps soap into the sink.

“I did something stupid, didn’t I.” It wasn’t a question. When he gets drunk, he does many stupid things. He makes poor choices, usually involving sleeping with the wrong person. But none of that had ever affected Val before, so he must have really done something stupid to deserve a cold shoulder.

“Yes,” she says simply.