An open lock, p.20
An Open Lock, page 20
“That's okay,” Tamara smiles. “I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
I nod, hugging her gratefully unable to express just how much I appreciated her today.
“Call me if you need me. Even if you just need someone to shout at.”
I nod, a small smile of appreciation managing to break through the weight compressing my chest. I don't remember any of the short walk back to the flat, but I find myself in the lounge, staring at the sofa and completely unsure of what to do with myself.
I'd wanted to take emergency leave from work and stay in Mansfield, but Mum flat out refused. She was insistent that I shouldn't put life on hold for her, despite my continued protests. She didn't want me to tell Dino either - which I was furious about, but I guess it's not my place. I hope he calls her soon.
Mum said we should wait until they have more information from the specialists. By that she means a more accurate idea of how long she has left. I don't understand how she can be so calm about it.
“Hi, Olivia,” Steph sticks her head out of her bedroom door. “You okay?”
I nod and muster a small smile. I'm not okay, I don't know why I nodded. Who could be okay in this situation?
“Cool!” She shouts back. “I'm off out with Cassie. Do you want to come?”
“No thanks,” I shake my head, making my way to my bedroom.
“It'll cheer you up!” She shrugs, going back into her own room to finish glamming herself up.
It's only Monday, but I guess she's on the lookout for a new bed buddy since she fell out with Xander yet again in another screaming argument. She never really told me what went on there, but I'm not in a place where I can muster the energy to ask her about it.
I quickly shed my clothes, leaving only my comfy granny panties and exchanging my dress for a baggy t-shirt. Curling up into the foetal position, I wrap myself up under the duvet. My lids are heavy with the need to sleep, but I manage to send off a text to E before my eyes close.
Not feeling great. Can
we do another night this
week instead please?
I quickly turn my phone off because Ian is bound to call or text and I just want to sleep. I feel so childish that I'm the one sulking and crying into my pillow, and Mum is carrying on life as normal and accepting her fate. I want her to scream and be angry, to hate the world and find somebody to blame, but what would that achieve?
I sob relentlessly into my pillow until I fall into a restless sleep.
It feels like only five minutes later that I'm awakened by the smell of chicken soup. What a weird thing to have for breakfast, I muse to myself. Steph must have a hangover.
It takes me a few seconds to realise that the clock next to my bed says it’s nine in the evening and it's not yet Tuesday morning.
I roll over to face the door, wondering if Steph has come home early, but the door is blocked by the silhouette of a broad frame.
Go away, I groan inwardly. I feel like crap, the last thing I need is an extra dose of irritating, dominating, bossy man. Pulling the duvet up over my head, I retreat into my foetal ball, praying it's a chicken-scented nightmare.
“Olivia,” E coaxes me out of my warm, comfortable shell.
“Not now, E,” I plead. “I can't handle you right now.”
“Not here to fuck you, Olivia,” he reprimands me and I manage a small scowl because we both know that's not what I meant. I'm too emotionally exhausted to let him run laps round my mind.
“Have you eaten?” He continues, uncaring that I'm a second away from crying.
“I'm not hungry,” I answer sulkily, clinging to my cushion for dear life.
He sighs, gritting his jaw in an obvious effort not to chastise me for neglecting to answer the question. “Is that a no?”
“I wasn't hungry, I didn't eat,” I repeat, my voice weary.
“You need to eat, Olivia,” E encourages, much gentler than his usual demeanour.
“Why are you here?” I pout. “I said I didn't want to do tonight.”
“You said you weren't feeling well,” he frowns in confusion. “Why wouldn't I be here?”
“Because you're just my dom. This isn't a relationship,” I remind him.
“That doesn't mean I don't care for your wellbeing,” he sighs in frustration. “But if you don't want me here then eat the soup and I'll leave.”
Well if there was ever a reason to eat, that would be it.
“How did you get in?” I ask curiously, reaching out to get the soup, intent on slurping it down to get rid of him.
“I was going to ask you about that,” his gaze turns from irritated to angry. “Does Steph ever lock the door to your flat?”
“Um,” I hedge. “I thought she did.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I'll have Xander speak to her.”
“I don't think they're still seeing each other,” I inform him, slightly smug that I know something he doesn't.
E cocks his head at me curiously. “They're out together tonight.”
“What?” I blurt.
“She didn't tell you?” He seems unsurprised and I get the impression he's trying to tell me something, but I'm too tired to attempt to understand his double speak.
I shake my head. “I thought they fell out.”
“Clearly, they made up,” he shrugs, rolling the duvet away from me so he can perch on the end of the bed.
I know he sees the granny pants because he raises an eyebrow, but in deference to my petulant mood, he doesn't comment. I haven't seen him since last week and he didn't text me to tell me what underwear to wear so I shouldn't have been wearing any. I didn't actually hear from E the whole weekend, but he said he was working so that's no surprise.
“Eat up,” he encourages, gently lifting my feet into his lap and kneading them gently.
Oh God, I might eat slowly after all. That feels divine. I try not to look at him as he works the soles of my feet into nirvana because I don't want him to know how much I'm enjoying it. He'd probably use that knowledge against me.
“This soup is delicious,” I hum in appreciation. “What brand is it?”
“I thought you weren't hungry,” he mocks in amusement. “And it's homemade.”
“By who?” I demand because I need to find them and stock my fridge with this stuff.
“Me,” he shrugs, switching to my other foot.
At this, my jaw drops. There is no way E cooked something so homely and delicious. He may be delicious, but he is far from homely.
“Don't look so shocked. I'm an amazing cook,” he reprimands with a smirk.
“We need to add another rule,” I inform him seriously. “You have to cook for me once a week.”
“Not the way the rules work,” he laughs. “But I can cook for you if you're too tied up to do it yourself.”
“Not funny,” I tell him as he wiggles his eyebrows, but I do appreciate that he's found his sense of humour, even if it is temporary.
“Ok, let's be serious then,” he sobers and gently squeezes my feet to draw my attention. “What's wrong?”
I shrug reluctantly. “Personal problems. I had a rough weekend.”
He looks at me expectantly, but he can wait a million years. This is sex only.
“Personal,” I repeat.
“Not the kind of rough weekend you have with me?” He raises a satirical eyebrow.
I frown because he thinks the whole world revolves around him.
“No, Ian,” I stress irritably. “I wasn't off sleeping with somebody else who likes to spank me. You can be a complete ass sometimes.”
Although he's an ass who makes delicious soup. I feel slightly guilty because he has come down here to check on me even though he's just come home from work. He has made me soup and not castigated my undies or the fact that I haven't called him 'sir' once since he arrived.
“I'm sorry, sir,” I apologise contritely. “I didn't mean to snap.”
“Free pass for tonight,” he shrugs. “You've been crying. Is there anything I can do?”
There's an insistence in his voice and I sense he dislikes my tears far more than he'd care to admit.
“No,” I shake my head. “Thank you for the soup though.”
He smiles softly, leaning forwards and removing the now empty bowl from my lap. He pads from the room, washing up the dish before returning.
In the time he has been gone, my lower lip has begun to tremble because I felt alone and I realise I'll always feel that way once Mum is gone. E takes one look at me before flicking open the, button on his trousers and kicking them off. He pulls his V-neck t-shirt off with one arm and quickly climbs into bed with me.
He slides in behind me, holding my body against his warmth and gently running his fingers through my hair until my body softens and relaxes into a more restful sleep.
E is still wrapped around me when I rouse with the rise of the sun. He kisses my neck as soon as I awaken and pulls my hair away from my face. His erection is hard to ignore as it presses into my spine, but he doesn't try anything. I suspect he's worried about my fragile state of mind.
I obviously wouldn't object to some morning fun, but I appreciate that he's being cautious with me.
“Get ready for work,” he nuzzles my neck, grinding himself against me. “I'll make you some coffee.”
As he rises, he pulls the duvet away from me, ruining my nice warm ball of happiness. I guess I should be happy he spent the night with me and excuse the rude awakening. He's being surprisingly tender for a man who likes to tie me up and fuck me.
“Yes, sir,” I grumble, shuffling my way towards the shower.
I spend a few minutes too long under the hot stream of water, the heat soothing on my tired body. I slept more than I thought I would, probably thanks to the warmth of another human body, but I still feel exhausted.
When I slip back into the bedroom, Ian is in there routing through my underwear. It's not the first time since I agreed to let him choose my undies.
“Where are the red ones?” He demands.
I have several red pairs, but I know he means the pair I wore the night I agreed to the rules.
“I washed them the other day,” I frown. “They should be on the right hand side.”
“There's no order in this drawer, Olivia,” he reprimands. “It's a wonder you can find anything.”
“You don't get to comment on my drawers, sir,” I chide, opening my wardrobe to decide on an outfit. I bet his boxers are all ordered by shade and style. Thinking of his clothes causes me to come to a halt; he took his shirt off last night.
I quickly spin on my feet, gawking at his semi-naked form. Why on Earth does he insist on keeping covered up? He's insanely ripped. I'm talking the definition of defined; every muscle group has its own post code.
I send up a silent prayer that he turn around so I can see if the front matches the back.
“Turn around, Olivia,” he orders, glancing over his shoulder.
“Why?” I whine, slightly tempted to stomp my feet.
“Because I told you do,” he growls in warning.
I humph stroppily, but do as I'm told, unsurprised that I'm rewarded with a slap to the ass as punishment for not immediately obeying.
“Sorry, sir,” I pout, wondering if I'm ever going to see him in his birthday suit. There's no way he has body issues; he knows how hot he is. I bet he's enjoying making me wait. If he let me ogle him it might help me forget all the pain and hurt I'm currently trying not to think about.
He may be a distraction, but he's a jaw-droppingly handsome distraction.
Chapter 24
When the weekend rolls around, I'm feeling no better, but I'm learning to cope with the pain. I've organised a week off work at the end of the month so I can spend some time with Mum. Something Tamara said made me think.
“Nothing is promised in life. A person can die at any point with no warning. You've been given the opportunity to let your Mum know exactly what she means to you before that happens.”
Whilst I may not have wanted to hear it, I appreciated what she was saying. I don't want to be without my Mum, but if I have to be, then there needs to be nothing left unsaid.
Tonight is my night with E and he has me tomorrow as well. I haven't seen him since I made him breakfast on Tuesday morning to say thank you for looking after me on Monday evening and we even had a fairly pleasant, non-irritating chat before we both left for work. We were meant to have three weekdays, but E compromised for Friday evening until Sunday morning in deference to my emotional state despite the fact he doesn’t know the root cause.
He has done a lot of compromising recently, I realise, still shocked that he slept with me in my bed that night, although I don't expect there to be any repeats. He was explicit about not sharing his bed.
“I love Fridays,” Tamara beams at me as we step out of the office together.
“They do have their advantages,” I agree, wondering what E has in store for me tonight.
He said nine o'clock so Tamara is coming over to hang out for a while until then. Once we're out of the sweaty, stress-inducing hell that is the tube, I feel like I can breathe again. My phone vibrates with a text from Kev as I step out of the station.
WTF Livvie? Want
to tell me why your
fuck buddy won't let me
see you?
What? I recoil as I read and reread the text. There must be some mistake so I apologise to Tamara and call him straight back to figure this out.
“What do you mean, Kev?” I ask as soon as he answers the phone.
“Fucker answered the door both times and wouldn't let me see you!” He barks back at me. I can hear that he's angry, but I can also here that he's hurt. He has been my friend for years and he must feel like I'm putting some guy I'm sleeping with above him.
“When did he do that?” I sigh in exasperation. Just as I was starting to believe E was changing. He has no right to deny my visitors access to me. Controlling bastard. This is exactly the sort of thing I was worried about when he said he wanted to control me. He said it was just a sexual thing and now he has his mate following me and he's denying my friends access.
“Monday and today,” Kev growls back. “Who the fuck does he think he is? You need to ditch that loser, Livvie.”
“Monday?” I frown. I was home on Monday.
“Yeah,” he replies. “I wanted to check in on you. We had a rough weekend.”
I nod in agreement. “Thank you,” I reply quietly. “He wouldn't let you in?”
“No,” Kev groans. “I knew Steph was out because she was posting pics on Instagram. I came over and he lied and told me you were asleep.”
Ah, I swallow in realisation. “I was asleep,” I cringe. “Sorry, Kev. I was a bit of a mess on Monday.”
“Which is why I wanted to check on you,” he grumbles irritably although slightly less grouchy than he was at the beginning of the call. “What about today?”
“Well, I'm not home yet,” I frown.
“I know that,” he sighs. “I wanted to come in and wait for you because I finished early.”
“Is he there?” My brow furrows in confusion. I assumed he'd be at work.
“He answered the door. Wouldn't let me come in and wait. He said you were spending the evening with him.”
“He said that?” My jaw clenches. I'm not meant to be seeing him until nine.
“Yeah,” he affirms.
“I'm sorry, Kev. I'll have a word with him. That's not cool,” I sigh. “I really am sorry.”
“I don't like him, Livvie,” he grits, a slight pout in his voice.
“I'm sorry. When do you want to meet up?” I try to distract him because that particular road doesn't lead anywhere positive.
“Saturday?”
I cringe. “I can't do Saturday. How about Sunday afternoon? We can watch a movie at yours?”
“What are you doing on Saturday?” He demands. “You're seeing him aren't you?”
“That's none of your business, Kev,” I reprimand guiltily. “Is Sunday okay?”
He's silent for a moment, but he eventually agrees and I hang up feeling like the worst friend in the world.
“I'm going to murder him,” I tell Tamara as we near the flat.
“I assume you mean E,” she seems unsurprised. “Can I watch?”
“Apparently he's home and busy denying my friends access,” I grumble, leaning into her for emotional support. “Wow,” she shakes her head. “He's unscrupulous.”
“Agreed,” I shake my head as I open the front door, giving her a brief summary of events.
“How was Kev going to get into the flat though?” Tamara ponders.
“Well he,” I pause with a frown. “I guess he was just going to wait outside.”
“But isn't Steph home?” Tamara follows me in.
Her question is answered as we walk into the lounge to see Steph dressed up to the nines in a sparkly sequin dress.
“Hi,” she beams, sipping on a glass of Pinot Grigio.
“Hi, Steph,” Tamara answers politely.
“Where are you off to tonight?” I ask her, my eyes darting between my two friends and hoping Steph won't attack Tamara this time.
“I haven't decided yet,” she beams. “I'm waiting for Xander to get here.”
I nod, fetching the bottle of wine to top her off as she knocks back the last of her grape juice. I could do with a glass myself, but Steph bought this wine so I fetch a bottle of red from my cupboard and wiggle it in Tamara's direction.
“Glass of wine with dinner?” I propose with a grin.
“Sounds perfect,” she nods eagerly. “Shall we make bolognaise.”
“Definitely. Then we can use the rest of the wine in the sauce.”
“A girl after my own heart,” she grins, pulling her hair back into a bobble so she can help me cook.
Steph lounges back on the sofa and chats with us happily as we slice and dice the veggies. It seems she has forgotten her tiff with Tamara because she's not being snide or bitchy. Maybe she has finally accepted that Tamara is a good friend to me with no malicious intent.
When Xander arrives, he's clearly let Ian know first because the two of them enter the flat together.
