“Tay, it’s three in the morning. What are you doing u
p?” He scanned all the items on the counter and the plate piled with brownies on the table. “Baking?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement and shook his head. “You’ve always been an odd bird.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled, busying myself with scrubbing a mixing bowl. “You weren’t home.” I added the last part in a low voice.
Blake let out a long breath but remained silent. The only sound was the running of water and the clinking of dishes as I set them in the drain. I chanced a peek over my shoulder and saw that he was sitting at the table and picking at a half-eaten brownie. I took a sponge and wiped every surface, saving the table for last. I kept hoping that he would leave, but he sat there. So, I grabbed the broom and swept the floor, mopped the tile area of the kitchen, and threw out some old food in the refrigerator.
The table was the last thing I had left to do. I considered leaving it but knew it would nag at me for the rest of the night if I skipped it. No longer able to stall, I grabbed the sponge and went to the opposite side of where Blake was sitting and started to wipe. Methodically, I focused on scrubbing the well-worn table that used to be my mother’s.
“Tayia, what are you doing? What’s with all the cleaning?”
“Nothing.” I shrugged, unable to resist the urge to restore everything back to order. The one thing, and maybe the only thing, I was capable of controlling in my life. I felt his warm hand run along the curve of my backside.
“You looked beautiful today. I never got a chance to tell you that.” I couldn’t resist enjoying the feel of his hand on me. It had been a while.
“Thank you.” My voice was barely audible as I resumed my task of removing crumbs.
“What’s this?” Blake shot up from his chair and turned me around so he could get a better look at my bandaged back.
“It’s a, um, tattoo.” I jerked my shoulder out of his grasp. “Just got it done tonight.”
“What? Where in the hell did you find a tattoo artist on the island?”
“Brando did it.”
“Brando?” He stepped back. “He . . . you let him . . . touch you?”
“Give me a break, Blake. It’s a tattoo.” I dismissed his surge of outrage. I knew he would react that way.
“I just can’t stand that guy. I don’t know what you see in him.” It was difficult to hear. Brando was a good guy, and I knew there was nothing I could say to convince Blake otherwise. Any effort I put into it would be a waste.
“I’m going to bed, Blake.”
“Wait, Tay. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m going to go . . .” He grabbed my arm tightly at first but then loosened his grip.
“I miss you.” He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “Being without you is driving me crazy.” He buried his face into the side of my neck.
“You had the chance at Christmas.”
“I know, but Grandmother died and my mom was a mess. I didn’t want to add to things. We talked about this.”
I rolled my eyes. Even though I understood his reasoning, it still hurt.
“Yeah, so you chose her feelings over mine.”
“No, it’s not like—”
“No, no. I get it.” I pushed away. “Why can’t you see that we can overcome anything as long as we have each other? When we’re divided like we are now, everything is doomed. We can be happy together or miserable apart.”
“Tayia, I don’t want to fight. I love you.”
“I don’t believe you.” I tried to step away but he pulled me to him.
“Don’t ever say that. I love you with every breath I take. You’re all I want and everything I need.” Then his lips crashed over mine.
Tears were running down my cheeks as I lost myself in the kiss. I wanted so badly to forget all the hurt and accept his words.