Free Keeping Her by Cora Carmack

it came back negative all the time. Tonight I just needed to put it out of my mind and get some rest. I would only make myself sick again worrying about it.
    The bathroom door squeaked as it opened, and Garrick turned from where he was changing clothes. He was just sliding a pair of pajama pants up over his hips, and if that wasn’t the perfect way to clear my thoughts, I didn’t know what was.

 
    9
    Garrick
    B LIS S STOOD FRAMED in the bathroom door, and I was at a loss for how to act. I had no idea how things had gone with my mum or afterward. All I knew was that she was quiet. Too quiet. And as much as I didn’t want her to be feeling ill, I hoped that that’s all it was about.
    “How are you feeling?”
    She crossed her arms over her stomach and said, “Okay. I think it was just . . . a long day. And it got to me. I’m fine now.”
    “And my mother?”
    “Should be a Disney villain.”
    I exhaled a laugh. Even sick and stressed she was . . . remarkable.
    “But that was okay, too?”
    After a torturous moment, she nodded. “I think so. We came to an understanding.” That sounded ominous. “She invited me to lunch the day after tomorrow.”
    My eyebrows shot up.
    “That means it went more than okay. It went well.”
    A small smile blossomed across her face. What was that science theory? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction? Seeing her smile lightened me. She anchored my thoughts, recentered my focus, balanced my life. And I needed that . . . desperately. Being back here . . . it was strange. I was struggling to walk that line between being polite and friendly, and falling back into my old ways.
    “Now about these exes . . .”
    Speaking of old ways.
    “Exes?”
    “Oh yes. Rowland estimated there were about ten in attendance.”
    Goddamn it, Rowland.
    I closed my eyes to resist the urge to go downstairs and mangle him.
    “I’m sure he was exaggerating.”
    The arms crossed over her stomach raised to cross over her chest, and she looked so deliciously bossy. Couldn’t we just skip this part and get on to what we’d planned earlier?
    “Do you have that many exes here in London?”
    I wracked my brain for a way that this conversation wouldn’t be disastrous.
    “I don’t know that exes is the right word.”
    “So they weren’t all relationships? What . . . just sex?”
    I grimaced. Guess we were cutting to the chase then. I didn’t so much like this bold side of her when it was directed at me.
    “Bliss . . . I was a right prick when I lived here. You would have hated me. My parents were not so good at the parenting aspect of life. They gave me money and a long leash, and like a stupid teenage boy, I took advantage of it. Often. Things are so beyond different now that that feels like a different life. A different person. And it was, really. When I left London, it was a rude awakening to live life outside this bubble of money and influence and tradition. But it was good for me. I grew up. I found something I really love, which led to finding someone I really love. If there were girls from my past here tonight, I didn’t notice them. They don’t matter. Nothing about this place matters at all in comparison to you.”
    She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, surveying me. There was just a hint of a tear shining in the corner of her eyes, then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s impossible to be mad at you. This is setting a dangerous precedent for our relationship.”
    That was a good sign.
    I stepped forward and settled my hands on her hips. “I like that precedent.”
    Her hands came up to my chest. “I know where you get it from. Your charm. Your father joins you and James Bond as a smooth-­talking Englishman. He was really nice about the vase thing.”
    I groaned. “He is a smooth talker, yes. But don’t let him fool you. He’s not nearly as nice as he pretends to be.”
    She traced her fingers along my jaw and pulled my face down toward her. “What