Page 80 of Shamed
I run my eyes over her small body, and I can’t help but wonder if I would have been happy as a veterinarian. It’s possible that if life hadn’t happened the way it did, I still could have changed paths at some point and not even worked with animals. I guess I’ll never know.
I move to perch on the side of the bed, and it’s only now that I notice the colors of the blanket and pillows, then the candle on the bedside table.
My eyes find Mase’s dark ones for a brief moment before he looks away. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in. Do you want me to take her?”
The kitten looks up at me, and I scratch under her chin before handing her over. That’s all I’ll allow myself for now.
After returning her to the spot draped over his shoulder, Mase turns to leave.
“Thank you,” I say to his large, retreating back.
He disarms me with another smile over his shoulder, followed by a dip of his chin. “Make yourself at home, okay?” Then he leaves me to adjust to my new surroundings.
Flopping back onto the soft, black quilt, I angle my head toward the pink pillows. Surely, he didn’t go out and buy new bedding for me, right? The black quilt cover I can see him owning beforehand, but the hot-pink pillowcases? And the candle? Did he need a new mattress?
Guilt crawls back up my throat and clogs it.
I haven’t had anyone buy me things or try to look after me in such a long time, and I don’t know how to handle it. I’m not supposed to have nice things happen to me, yet it seems everything Mase does is nice.
I can’t just accept it all and be happy, yet my insides want to melt at the fact I was even a thought in his mind. It’s a dizzying cocktail of push and pull in my thoughts that makes me want to bury my head in the newly bought fabric and scream.
Sucking in a deep breath, I try to remind myself that this is for him. This will make him feel better.
I figure I might as well get settled in for now and give myself a tour of the place, starting with looking around my bedroom.
It’s far more modern than my apartment. The walls are painted a simple light gray, with plush dark gray carpet covering the floor. The bed sits stretched out from the middle of the wall, with wrought iron bars at both ends. A few framed, hand-sketched drawings—that are quite detailed and amazing—are hung on the wall above the bed, but otherwise, the walls are bare.
A peek in the closet reveals an exercise ball, a few tension bands, and a gym bag with theFit For A Lifetimelogo on it.
I slip off my jacket and hang it on one of the hangers. The temperature here is much warmer than in my apartment, and I wonder if that simple luxury will spoil me for when I go back to my ice box in a few days.
Slinking out into the hallway, I turn right to check out the bathroom.
Curious as to what he uses, I glance into the shower, noting the brand and scent, but then I do a double take when I see fullbottles of what looks to be women’s shampoo and conditioner, as well as a coconut-scented bodywash.
Either he keeps a supply here for any lady guests he may have over, or he went and bought them for me at the same time he got the bedding. They aren’t the brand I use, but coconutismy favorite scent, and he must have noticed that.
Turning away from the shower, my eyes land on myself in the mirror, and the moment I see the slight smile on my face, rotten thoughts start sneaking their way back in.
Life-ruiner. Coward. You disgust me.
The smile drops and my fingers itch to reach for a blade. Out of habit, I grab the drawer handle but don’t open it. I doubt he’ll keep anything in here that I can use, anyway.
Plus, it’s always best to do it after work, giving my arms a bit of time before wearing my silk gloves the next day.
I wonder if I’ll still have this urge once Jacob is released. Probably.
I tug on the ends of my long-sleeved shirt and leave the bathroom to peek into Mase’s bedroom across the hall.
It understandably shows much more character than my room, though it has the same-colored wall and floor.
An acoustic and an electric guitar hang on his wall, along with more hand-drawn sketches and photos. His bedding is dark gray, and instead of a metal frame like mine, his is dark wood. Matching bedside tables are on either side, with lampson top of both. And in the corner sits a dresser, with a couple of drawers half open, a cologne bottle and a chain with a square pendant resting on top.
The room smells exactly like him, and I find myself pulling it into my lungs.
Having snooped enough, I go to leave, but I just about jump out of my skin when I see Mase leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, quietly watching me, the kitten circling one ankle.
“Shit, you scared me,” I breathe, placing a hand to my chest. Then, remembering I’m insidehisbedroom, my cheeks warm. “Sorry, I was just looking around.”
