Perfect Addiction (Perfect 2)
Page 55
“I didn’t lend you my truck.”
“Whatever.”
He tosses the keys on the table, watching me curiously.
“Where did you go?”
“Went shopping. Bought myself this cute top,” I say, pinching my new lavender blouse. A nice statement piece given the ocean of black in my closet. “And I got myself a cute little manicure too.” I wriggle my freshly painted nails in front of Kayden’s face.
“Now I’m upset you didn’t invite me out. Would have loved a French mani,” Kayden mumbles.
“Help me with these.” I drag the cans over to the kitchen.
Instead of offering aid, he simply stares at the paint.
“What are we going to do with these?”
I grin wolfishly at him. “We’re painting your apartment today.”
A pause that seems to stretch on for miles. Followed by—
“Not a fucking chance.”
“Come on,” I whine, like I’ve just been told I can’t have candy for breakfast. “This place is miserable.”
“But I like it the way it is.”
“You’ve been living here for so long now,” I protest.
“Don’t you think it needs to look more like your home?”
“Why do you care?” Kayden demands.
“Because!” I retort. “I just do, all right? I just care. I care about you and I want this place to look more like our place than a dungeon. I care because I’d rather do this on Valentine’s Day than lock myself in a room thinking of what I’d be doing if I was still in a relationship.”
I stop to catch my breath and I see Kayden’s eyes flood with sympathy. He stares at me, long and hard, flattening his lips into a thin line.
“Today sucks for you, doesn’t it?” He murmurs.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I need of get my mind off of it, that’s all.”
Kayden offers me a sympathetic smile.
“Okay. Fine.” He gives in. “Maybe you’re right. This place does look like shit. I hope you bought paint rollers.”
Shit. I can’t believe I spent three hours at Home Depot only to not buy paint rollers. “Um . . .”
Kayden’s eyes flutter closed, trying to process my stupidity.
“What kind of person buys paint but not paint rollers?”
“I forgot! I was too busy figuring out all the colors I wanted to get,” I say defensively, resting my hands against my hips. “Do you have any?”
“Does it look like I paint shit around here?”
Damn, Killer, a simple no would have sufficed.
“Fine,” I snap, not wanting to continue this argument.