“Strippers!” Dean shouts from somewhere inside.
My stomach drops. Not that there might actually be strippers here but at the lies that surround all of this. After all of the things Booker told me about his past, he goes and does this behind my back. I can’t stop the tears that start to fall. I should run, but it’s too late. The door is already being pulled open.
“Oh fuck.” Mick steps out, pushing me back a few steps before slamming the door behind him. “Hey, Care-bear. What are you doing in this part of town?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Shit. You’re crying. This isn’t what it looks like,” he rushes to say. The door starts to open again. This time Dean’s head pops out. As soon as he sees me, his eyes widen before he slams the door shut once again. This time the lock clicks into place.
“Did they just lock me out?” Mick asks, generally looking insulted. The door starts to open once again.
“Fuck all of you.” I turn to leave. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I walk back the way I came. I hear all hell break loose behind me, but I keep going. That is, until a hand wraps around my waist, pulling me back. My feet leave the ground. I don’t have to look to know who grabbed me.
“I told you. Just come clean,” Logan says, shaking his head at everyone.
“Shut up all of you and get the fuck out,” Booker barks at everyone.
“You shut up and put me down, you liar.” I wiggle in his hold, but it’s pointless. Everyone steps out of Booker’s way to let him carry me back into the condo. I don’t know why he’s wasting his time, because as soon as he puts me down I plan on leaving.
“Care-bear. Just hear him out.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t fucking call her that,” Booker and I both shout. Mick puts his hands up. “Get out!” Booker barks at them again.
“That’s real nice after we came over to help.” Tommy shakes his head, but they all do actually leave, closing the door behind them.
“Will you let me go?” He’s still got his arm wrapped around me from behind. I wiggle but stop when my ass brushes against his cock.
“Never going to let you go.” He buries his face in my hair.
“But you’ll lie to me?”
“I fucked up,” he admits.
“Are you cheating on me?”
“What?” He lets me go for a second so he can spin me around to face him. “Cheating on you? I’ve waited years to be with you. Hell, I was waiting for you before I even knew what I was doing.”
“You keep turning down sex.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip.
“I’ll fuck you against this wall right here if you want.” He starts to go for my jeans, making me laugh.
“Stop it. I’m mad at you.” Hard to say when I’m giggling.
“Trust me, I know. This has been a week from hell. Taking you home every night has been torture.” He closes his eyes like he’s in pain thinking about it.
“Then what is going on?” That pained look doesn't leave his face when he opens his eyes.
“I love you. Always remember that even when I do stupid shit. Even if it pisses you off, I did it because I want to make you happy. I want you to see yourself like I see you. You have this extraordinary talent. And I wish you’d let yourself see it.”
“Booker…” He takes a step back from me before he moves to the side, revealing the empty condo. It’s not completely empty. The walls are covered with my artwork. It’s not only the five pieces from the art show last week either. There are so many more that have tears filling my eyes for a different reason.
There are doodles on papers that I made over the years that he had framed. On every wall there is something different, but it’s all mine.
“I thought someone stole this.” I walk over to the watercolor I made in eighth grade. We were supposed to paint ourselves. The teacher had hung a few up in the hallways. Mine had gone missing.
“Guess I’m a thief and a liar,” Booker says under his breath.
“You’re also the man I love.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Booker
Grandpas shouldn’t be scary. Mine aren’t. Dad’s dad thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I can’t do a thing wrong in his eyes, and his mission is to make sure I have every whim fulfilled. Mom’s dad isn’t much different. Sometimes the two get into a pissing match like when one of them bought me a custom snowboard signed by Chloe Kim and the other bought me a condo in Aspen. That sort of thing. If I brought Carrie to meet them, they’d be dishing out praise like mashed potatoes at a church potluck.