With a sigh, she curls her fingers in my hair. “So these are part of those things that will change? It’s a lot for me to take in.”
“Do you love me?” I demand.
“You know I do.”
“Then believe every word I say to you is the truth and exactly what I mean.”
Before she can answer, I hear her phone ring. The Bad Company ringtone signals it’s her stepbrother, Malcolm. Tiny assigns ringtones to all of her callers, not that she has many. I enjoy redoing them.
“Bad Company” for her drug dealing step-brother; “You’ve Got a Friend” sung by James Taylor—not the later covers—for her old friend Sarah; the theme from the Bodyguard soundtrack for my driver, Steve, who is not so surreptitiously serving as her bodyguard; and last but not least, “Ain’t No Other Man” by Christina Aguilera for me.
With pressure against my shoulder, she signals she wants to answer the phone. Reluctantly, I lift her down.
I’m not a fan of Malcolm, but right now I know to step lightly around the subject. She feels tethered to him because he knew her mother. Gritting my teeth, I finish my morning routine. I haven’t shaved yet, but the grungy unshaven look is popular and I answer to no one. Generally I shave so my coarse facial hair doesn’t scratch Tiny’s skin, but perhaps…I stroke the side of my face. Maybe I’ll see how she likes the different texture tonight.
From the bedroom I hear Tiny’s side of the conversation.
“No, I didn’t mind that your mom came to the funeral. I thought that was nice of her. How’s she doing?”
Malcolm’s mother is addicted to gambling and that’s why he’s got his hands in so many different criminal pots—or at least that’s his excuse. Malcolm and Tiny shared a father for a short time when they were teens, but Mitch Hedder, Malcolm’s biological father and Tiny’s stepfather, took off and hasn’t been seen for a long time.
“No way,” she exclaims. “God, I’m sorry. Where’s he staying?”
More silence from Tiny’s end.
“How’s your mom taking it?”
“Yeah, okay, thanks for the warning.”
Shrugging into my jacket, I place my phone and wallet in the inside breast pocket and press a button to alert Steve I’ll be ready for a pick-up in ten minutes.
“What’s that all about?”
“Mitch is back in town. And he’s staying at the Plaza.”
Her worried look tells me this is trouble.
“It’s not your problem.”
“Malcolm’s family.”
“No, I’m your family,” I counter.
“Mitch was part of my life for six years. My stepdad for four of those years. Malcolm says he wants to talk to me about Mom. I can’t deny him that.” She sounds anguished, which is exactly what I’m trying to protect her from.
I count to ten in my head. And then backwards. This is a tipping point. I either step right or onto a landmine. I can’t demand she not meet with him because she’s an adult and will do what she wants. I struggle to find a compromise we both can live with. “Then promise me you won’t meet him without me.”
She nods slowly. “Okay, I promise.”
“Thank you.” I kiss her slowly, because it’s going to have to last me all day. My tongue traces the seam of her lips and when she opens, I swoop in to taste her. I should’ve branded her. I should have marked her everywhere—a necklace of suckling bruises made by my mouth that showed everyone that she was mine. I content myself by branding her senses with my lips and fingers. Later tonight I’ll f**k her so hard she won’t remember anything but my name and hers.
THREE
NOT FIVE MINUTES AFTER I climb into my car the phone rings. It’s Tiny.
“Bunny.”
“Can Steve hear you?” she demands.
“Doubt it. But the privacy screen isn’t up. Why? Do you want to have phone sex? Because I can be home in five minutes and have you naked in one more.”
She smothers a laugh. “No, I just don’t want him to know you call me bunny. I get that it’s an endearment, and I guess it is sweet, but it sounds weak. I don’t want Steve to think I’m weak.”
“No one else is going to call you bunny,” I reassure her. If they did, my fist would be in their mouth before they pronounced the last syllable. “Besides, why do you care what Steve thinks of you?”
“He’s your friend. I want your friends to think I’m good for you and that I’m not some weak chick that needs saving all the time.” She makes a gagging sound. “Barf. Who wants that?”
Tiny’s neuroses are strange. “Even if Steve thought you were weaker than a newborn, I’d get rid of him before I’d get rid of you.” In the rearview mirror, I see Steve raise his eyebrows. Apparently he can hear me. I just shrug in response. Everyone should know where my loyalties lie. “Is that what you called about, or are you in need of something?”
She sighs. “I just got off the phone with Mitch. He wants to see me. He was crying. I couldn’t tell him no.”
I’m glad we’re on the phone so she can’t see my glare. “It’s been seven years since you last saw him.”
“I know.” She hesitates and then rushes forward. “He says he has something of hers that I would want.”
Of course he would say that. He’s manipulating her, but either she doesn’t see it or doesn’t want to. With as much patience as I can muster, I ask, “When and where?”
“Maybe Friday at the Plaza?” she asks with obvious relief. Not pointing out Mitch Hedder’s manipulation was the right tactic, but at some point she will need to acknowledge his motives are not innocent.
“No problem. I’ve got a several meetings this week, but I believe my last one on Friday is at three.”
“And you said you’d stay home today,” she chided.
“No meeting is more important than you. Nothing is,” I say quietly.
She’s silent for a long time, and I begin to think she’s hung up on me. “I’m trying to wrap my head around that. It’s just not something I’ve felt in a very long time,” she admits.
“You take as long as you want,” I reassure her.
“I love you.”
I can almost see her biting the side of her lip as she says it, slightly afraid of my response. Her past boyfriends must have been real winners. Someday I’ll tell her that a man secure enough in himself isn’t afraid to say those words. “Love you, too.”