Page 61 of The Taste of Redemption
“You hoped I’d congratulate you on the inability to forgiveonemistake? I mean, she didn’t cheat on you…”
“Youdon’tknow that.”
She chuckled, patting my shoulder. “I knew you two slept together the very next morning. There’s nothing I don’t know about Nadia, Thomas. Believe me.” She got up, walking away toward the house, but turned around with her hand on the handle. “At least be a man and tell her she should forget about you.”
Should she, though? Could I watch her with another guy now or ten years from now? Would I ever stop feeling protective and possessive? It had been four months—long enough to stop loving someone I spent a few weeks with, but I was nowhere near falling out of love.
Amelia went back inside, leaving me with Nick. I expected him to take Mel’s approach and twist the knife even more.
“Don’t worry about Amelia. Do what you think is best. I mean, I do want you to work things out with Nadia, but at the end of the day, you’re the one who’ll have to live with your choices.”
Nick came a long way from throwing punches at my face to wishing I would forgive Nadia. It was a true testament to how much she changed me from a careless playboy to a guy capable of loving and taking care of her in less than two months.
“I need to see her,” I said.
My mind wasn’t set on anything yet. I wasn’t sure what my next step should be, but I had to see her face, hear her voice and tell her that seeing Chase was a stupid idea.The Mishapswere about to become the next big thing. It was just a matter of time before he would start sleeping around with his fans, enjoying the life of a young musician.
I drove over to Nadia’s apartment and spent ten minutes in the car, gawking at the apartment windows. I couldn’t cope without her, but all my instincts rebelled against forgiving her as if shielding me from pain she could bring upon me sometime in the future. I exited the car, leaning over the hood, a cigarette in between my lips. The air was damp, and the clouds of smoke lingered in the low temperature. A man with a German Shepherd walked across the street, glancing over his shoulders a few times, eyeing up my car.
Nadia’s apartment was tucked out of the way in a one-way street. The traffic there was non-existent, and some streetlamps weren’t working. A convenience store down the road was the brightest spot on the dark street. I butted the cigarette on the curb, and failing to talk myself out of seeing her, I made my way inside the building.
Nadia stood in front of the long mirror in the hallway, painting her lips a juicy red colour. She tucked a grey, knitted sweater into a short, flared skirt, the outfit cute and girly if not for the grey, over the knee boots which made her look too desirable.
Pyroby Kings of Leonplayed from the speaker—a band I long forgot until the night Nadia came back to London. A sweet and tangy smell of Nadia’s perfumes, a mixture of bergamot and lily of the valley, filled the air. She didn’t flinch when I entered the apartment without knocking and leaned against the wall, by the mirror, openly staring.
There are as many definitions of beauty as there are men on the planet. Nadia wasn’t beautiful. She was gorgeous. Everything about her drew me in: full lips; big eyes; the way she stood, frowned, and smelled.
My eyes travelled down, lingering on the three inches of exposed skin of her thighs, then further down, across the floor and onto the back wall. Drawings and canvases were tucked by the staircase, and some were scattered on the breakfast bar in the kitchen.
I swallowed hard, looking away from the largest canvas that stood next to the main entrance. It stood as tall as Nadia, and her alter ego—the girl in a white dress she used to portray her own struggles—sat on a tiled floor in the corner of some room. Barefoot, she held her knees close to her chin, hands clasped on her head, hair covering most of her face, but not enough to hide a black eye and make-up smudged by tears. Adrian’s presence was made clear by a large, long shadow on the floor.
“Why are you here?” Naida asked pressing her lips together to spread the lipstick.
Not one glance my way. Instead, she went about putting long, silver earrings in, then struggled with the clasp of her necklace, too proud to ask for help. My breathing hitched when I pushed off the wall and stood behind her. The nape of her neck was on display, making it damn near impossible not to kiss the tender flesh. I glanced into the mirror and caught her watching me, her features pinched, but eyes full of want.
“Why are you here?” She spun around, stepping back. “Was my moving out of Nick’s not enough of a clue that I don’t want to see you?”
She drew her lip between her teeth, then let go as if remembering she just applied the provoking lipstick. Her lips were the most alluring feature of her face. Eyes were amazing too, but the lips… Fucking perfect… Red and juicy like cherries in July. Every single time those lips were on my body flashed before my eyes.
A couple of loose strands of hair fell out from the messy updo she probably spent an hour working on to make it look so effortless. Instinct took over. I reached to tuck them behind her ear, but she arched back, and my fingers brushed thin air.
That stung. Hell, it was agony like putting salt on open wounds. It was the first time she refused to let me touch her.
“Why? What did I do?”
She shook her head as if chasing away unwanted thoughts.
“Nothing. I’m just not where you are, Thomas. You moved on, and that’s good, but I haven’t. I can’t because you’re here all the time. I can’t be friends with you. Not yet.”
She glanced back into the mirror, checking over her outfit so she wouldn’t have to look at me. That stung too.
“What did you think was going to happen? You thought I’d wait? You chosehim. You knew what you were doing.”
“And you think because I chose tohelphim, I didn’t care about you, right?” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Think again. Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
My jaw clenched painfully. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. She was messing with my head, acting as if she was happy for me, but she was avoiding me regardless. Then, there was Chase. What the hell was he doing in the picture if she still had feelings for me?
“I know what I don’t want,” I said. “I don’t want you seeing Chase.”
