Page 61 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Look, it happens. Clearly.’
‘But you were engaged?’ Why does this sound like a protest?
‘I was saving myself,’ she retorts deadpan. ‘And I’m pleased I did. Look, if you must know, I’ve led a sheltered life. I didn’t go to college and was pretty much homeschooled. At twenty, I decided I’d had enough. I wanted a job, and a life, and someone from the church offered me a part-time job.’
‘And that someone was your ex?’
‘His father. By the time I was twenty-one, we were dating. By twenty-two, I was done with waiting. But then he proposed and said weshouldwait. For God.’ She points a finger at the ceiling, her gaze rising briefly. ‘To prove our commitment. But just because we were members of the same church, a church that preaches abstinence for its single congregants, it’s not like we didn’t dostuff. I haven’t one hundred percent saved myself.’
‘And you’re not fucking spent.’ I pull her to my chest, hating how defensive she sounds, hating even more that she feels like she needs to explain. And hating to infinity any kind of mention of her ex-fiancé.
Is that hypocritical? Fuck, I don’t know.
‘You don’t have to explain yourself, not to me. Not to anyone. But you should’ve said.’
‘Why? It’s just a construct, Rafferty. It’s not some precious offering.’ She waggles her fingers dramatically. ‘Oooo, thesacred maidenhead.’
‘I just feel like I should’ve known.’ Apart from the bit when I realised she was as tight as fuck. And wet. And delicious. Jesus, talk about feeling conflicted.
‘What would you have done? Brought champagne? Sprinkled the bed with rose petals?’ At this point, she’s pulled out from under my arm and is looking pretty fierce. ‘I didn’t want any of that. I wanted the real you, and I got it. And I’ll take the real you again and again.’
‘And I’ll give it to you,’ I find myself answering.
‘That’s somewhat mollifying,’ she replies stiffly.
‘If you’ll tell me one thing.’
Her gaze narrows, but she allows me to pull her back into my arms, which naturally fall around her waist, her head resting on my chest.
‘You said you were tired of being treated like china—by the way, you’re not fine china; you’refiiine china.’ She sighs like I’m an idiot, but she’s digging it. I can tell. ‘But does it have something to do with this?’ I reach around, tracing my hand over her scar, feeling more than hearing her assent. ‘Can you tell me about it? Would you?’
She nods again but says nothing. I think for a moment that’s all I’ll get from her right now, but then her body moves with a deep inhale. On her exhale, she begins to speak.
‘When I was born, I’m told my skin was tinged blue. I had a congenital heart defect, quite a doozy in both name and consequence because Tetralogy of Fallot robbed my little body of oxygen.’
‘Fuck.’ As far as responses go, this one’s a lame duck and goes nowhere close enough to how her words make me feel as I tighten my grip on her. She had blue lips that first morning. She wasn’t just fuckin’ hungover.
‘Yeah, fuck.’
‘Did you just swear?’ It’s not the first time I’ve heard her, but it’s pretty clear she’s not a potty-mouthed girl.
‘Nope, not me.’ Lissa tilts her head, giving me sad eyes. ‘I’m just a poor, sickly woman who doesn’t have the energy for such things.’
‘Yeah, right.’ But how much truth is in that? She seems plenty feisty to me. ‘Come on, continue with the spillage.’
‘I’m not sure what else you want to hear.’
‘How about anything. Anything you want to tell me.’
‘A blue baby then surgery. A cosseted childhood, followed by more corrective surgery as a teen.’
‘You had more surgery as a teenager? But you’re okay now?’
‘I’m better than ever, physically. But sometimes, I feel like there’s other damage been done.’
‘You mean, like emotionally?’
‘Not just for me. I don’t mean to sound like a diva, and I appreciate all that my family has done for me. My momma gave up a successful law career to look after me. She’d already given it up once when my brother was born.’
