Page 53 of Elijah’s Whim

Chapter Twelve

Hannah

“You’re not my mother!” I struggled against the hands holding me and shouted again, “This is not my mother! This is not my mother!” I shouted the words they taught us in school, but no one so much as blinked an eye.

Couldn’t they hear me? I was yelling as loud as my little voice could yell.

Along one wall inside the public women’s bathroom, a long row of white porcelain sinks sat low in mauve Formica counters. Two basins on the end were much closer to the ground so little ones could exercise some independence and wash their own hands.

Everything was so clean.

Overhead fluorescent lights bounced off shiny chrome fixtures, porcelain toilet bowls, and sinks. Brushed stainless-steel stalls provided privacy around each toilet and a moment of peace for its user.

Through my panicked tears, I made eye contact with a woman washing her hands at one of the sinks. She didn’t turn back to look at me, but I knew she saw me in the mirror right in front of her.

I made my body limp and heavy the way I did when Mommy or Daddy tried to make me walk and I was tired. I still wanted to be carried sometimes, but they were always too weighed down with my sisters.

But the woman—or was it a man? I wasn’t sure because her hands felt like a daddy’s hands—got really, really mad, and then my head hurt and I cried.

“Hannah. Hannah, baby, wake up.”

“No, stop touching me. You are not my mother!”

“Hannah, wake up. You’re having a nightmare, beautiful.”

I shoved at the hands on my shoulders and swung my arms and balled fists wildly until finally connecting with something solid.

“Uugghh. Well, shit, girl.”

A man. I was in bed with a man. I cracked one eye open, then the other.

Elijah.

A deep breath escaped as my brain came online, and I realized I’d just landed a solid fist to his body somewhere. I stared at the stunning man, with what I assumed were saucer-wide eyes. I’d been having various versions of the same nightmare for almost twenty years. Not an anniversary I was eager to celebrate. Or an experience I typically talked about, if I could get away with it. Now that this happened, though, I was sure I’d have to come clean with my sexy landlord.

“Are you okay?” The light on my side of the bed was already on, so he hit the switch for his side too. I took a quick peek at my watch and groaned at the time. It was already too late to hope for more sleep before having to get up for work but too early to get up and get the day started.

“I’m so sorry I ruined your sleep. I hope your day isn’t too busy with meetings or whatever.”

“Listen to me, girl, because this is the only time I’m going to say this. You don’t owe anyone an apology for having a nightmare. Especially me.” In case I wasn’t sure how he truly felt from his lecture, he added a disapproving scowl. “That’s ridiculous. Also, it’s Sunday, so there isn’t an issue. We can sleep out by the pool later if we’re tired.”

If only it were as simple as making time for a catnap later in the day. Something about the look on his handsome face gave me the impression he also knew that wasn’t the case, but until I gifted him with my truth, he would leave well enough alone.

“If it’s all the same, I’m going to go back to my room. I had an amazing time with you last night, Elijah. Thank you for everything you did for me.” I shifted my eyes from left to right, embarrassed to settle on any one thing too long, and gave him a shy smile.

“Don’t get bashful on me now, beautiful. I’m pretty sure my face still smells like your cunt.” He held his hand up between us. “My fingers definitely do.”

“Oh my God,” I commented from the cradle of my palms. “Why would you say something like that?” I picked my head up and glared at him. At least we weren’t dwelling on the nightmare.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Hannah. What we did last night was pretty tame in the realm of sexual escapades. Plus, it all felt really great, right?”

“Yes, it did. Again, thank you.”

“I didn’t bring it up to coax gratitude from you, Hannah.”

“Then why did you?” I began to suspect he enjoyed making me uncomfortable.

“The best way for us to learn about each other is honest conversation.” He gave an easy shrug. “It’s that simple. If I have to guess what you like and what you don’t, I’m going to get a lot wrong. And I can say, when it comes to you, I don’t want to get it wrong.”