Beauty in the Ashes

“I don’t deserve you,” I breathed, my hands tightening around the container of ice cream.

He chuckled. “That’s true.”

Of course he’d agree.

Desperate to get away from the seriousness of the conversation, I mumbled, “You know, you better be really glad this didn’t touch the floor.” I pointed at my ice cream.

He shook his head as he went back to unloading the grocery bags. “What would you have done to me if your precious ice cream was ruined?”

“Hmm,” I tapped the end of the spoon against my lips. “I’m thinking a food fight would’ve been appropriate.”

“You’re something else, you know that, right?” He gathered up the plastic bags and tossed them in the trash. Without giving me time to answer, he leaned against the counter and said, “You should eat this soup before you devour that ice cream.”

I clutched the container in my hand tighter. “Don’t touch my ice cream.”

He laughed. “I have two sisters, I know not to come between a woman and her sweet tooth.”

As I ate my ice cream he put the groceries in their rightful place. He never, not once, stopped to ask me where anything went. He looked through the cabinets and figured it out himself.

Once every last bit of my delicious treat was gone I found myself chilled. I grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around myself.

“Cold?” Memphis asked.

I nodded.

“Here,” he shrugged out of the sweatshirt he wore and handed it to me. “Put this on. It’ll keep you warm.”

I was reluctant to take it at first, but finally did. The blanket pooled at my waist as I wiggled my body into the sweatshirt. Dang, there was a lot of extra material here. My head finally poked through the opening and I felt like a turtle.

“You know,” he smiled, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his pouty lips, “you look really good in that sweatshirt. I think you should keep it.”

I rolled my eyes and tucked stray pieces of dark hair behind my ears. I turned my back to him and faced the TV. “Not likely.”

His chuckle reverberated behind me and I jumped at his close proximity.

“Jesus! What are you? A fucking ninja? First you manage to get into my apartment without me hearing you and now you’re hovering behind me like an uber creeper.”

“You have a very dirty mouth,” he whispered huskily, his fingers brushing ever so slightly against my collarbone. My heart accelerated at the feather light touch and my throat constricted. It shouldn’t have felt so good when he touched me, especially after what had happened with Caelan. I was heartbroken—but my damn heart still reached out for Memphis. I think it always had been and I’d denied it for far too long.

I wasn’t going to rush into things though.

I needed time to heal and I wasn’t going to be the woman I’d once been—jumping from man to man, because she knew nothing else. I had to gain my independence.

Memphis sat beside me. The couch squished down and I dipped closer to him, which I was sure was his goal. He held the bowl of soup in his hand and a spoon poised above it. He dipped it into the liquid and held it up to my mouth. A bit of broth dripped onto my bottoms and a noodle hung precariously on the edge. “Eat up, buttercup,” he chirped.

Was he crazy? He had to be.

“You’re not feeding me.” I shook my head back and forth and tried to scoot away from him like a young child would from its mother when they didn’t want to take medicine.

“Oh I am.”

My mouth fell open in shock and he used it to his advantage by shoving the spoon into my mouth.

I sputtered and choked as the hot liquid hit my tongue and trickled down my throat.

Once I had swallowed I narrowed my eyes at him. It really hurt too much for me to continue to argue with him. Frankly, it wasn’t worth it. If the smug jerk wanted to hand feed me soup, then so be it. If his fingers got too close I’d be more than happy to take a bite.

Once half of the soup was gone I could stomach no more. I shook my head adamantly that I was done. With a reluctant sigh he set the bowl on the coffee table.