Page 41 of Mr. Red

I guide her to the sink and get her toothbrush ready. I have plans that involve her mouth once she’s sober. We need to get it clean right now. I hand her the toothbrush.

“Oooooh! Karaoke!”

She grabs the toothbrush and begins singing a song I can’t make the lyrics out to; she’s way off-key. I’d say a cat was dying if I didn’t see her singing for myself. Something about her getting over a guy.

What the hell?

“Just brush your teeth.” I help her move the brushin circles.

That song better not be about getting over me. Fuck that.

Once she has brushed her teeth, I throw her over my shoulder.

“You can’t just pick me up. Where have you been? No calls, no texts, and then you just show up here. I don’t care how hot your body is. Or how pretty your face looks. Or how good you smell. It doesn’t matter.” She swishes her hand along my back, smacking me on the forearm.

I plop her down on the bed. She grabs a pillow, and, to my astonishment, begins hitting me with it. She can’t be serious. I grab the pillow out of her hands.

“You really shouldn’t abuse someone taking care of you, you know.”

She laughs and grabs another pillow, then she puts it behind her head. She goes to sleep without a care in the world.

Unbelievable.

I take off my shirt and put it over her, removing her wet undergarments after she’s covered. Then I pull the blankets over her and turn the lights off. I grab a big bowl from the kitchen, just in case she doesn’t make it to the toilet. There’s a chair in the corner I sit down at. I want to make sure Scarlett will be okay and I need to know the moment she wakes up so I can explain what’s been going on. I’ve been sleeping in an uncomfortable setting the past five nights, what’s one more?

Chapter 25

Scarlett

I wake up with a headache looking for vengeance. I’m so glad I don’t have work today. Someone is sitting in the chair I have in the corner. I look over to...Matt?

When did he get here?

He’s still asleep and missing a shirt. A small patch of dark hair on his chiseled chest on display. His elbow leans on the armrest while his hand props up his head making his muscles protrude on his arms.

I move slowly to grab some water and not wake him. I look down, dressed in his missing shirt. It smells like him—the sandalwood. Before I plant my feet on the floor, his eyes open.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt rumbles.

“Water,” I rasp.

He nods to the nightstand where a glass of water and some medicine sit. “Figured you’d need it.”

I give him a small smile and take the water. As I down the pills, some of the events from last night pop into my head. Matt’s car, him at the front door, him helping me in the shower after I was throwing up. I’m thankful Matt showed up, but he disappeared without a word for almost a week. I can’t just fall back into his lap because he feels like coming around again. I would’ve been happy on the bathroom floor with my bestie—the toilet.

“So, what brings you here?” I start.

I put the empty water glass on my nightstand. Maybe I should have coffee before I have this conversation. Scratch that, I’m going to lay down and pass out again.

I close my eyes and pull the covers to my chin, but the bed shifts, making me open them again. He’s sitting on the side. He moves the hair out of my face, but doesn’t start talking.

I’ll have to be the one to dive into the conversation. “Matt, why did you not contact me?”

He flicks his wrist and clears his throat. “I had a family thing to deal with and didn’t know how to tell you what was going on.”

“You could’ve just texted and said, ‘Hey, I’ve got a family thing. I’ll call you when it’s sorted.’ Or sent an e-mail. Not calling me after we had sex isn’t the best option to keep communication and trust open,” I explain.

“I didn’t think you needed to be involved.”