It burns that I can’t tell this dickhead that I’m Livia’s boyfriend now and he needs to fuck off forever from her life. We’re not quite there yet, but we damn well are going to be. “It’s none of your damn business how I know Livia, or who the fuck I am.”
His eyes drop to my T-shirt. I came from work and I’m still wearing the one that says TREY across the front.
Piers snorts with derision. “Okay, Trey.”
He stays where he is as if waiting for something. I am, too. I’m waiting for him to leave. Finally, this creep gets the message that I intend to stand guard over her door, and turns and walks away. I stay where I am and the idiot actually comes back after five minutes, sees me still standing there, gives me the finger, and leaves.
“Not on my watch,” I mutter to myself. After thirty minutes of no sign of the asshole, I head home.
All evening, I can’t relax for thinking about that creep showing up at Livia’s apartment again. I wish I could call her. I consider going through the files at Dom Fitness to get Livia’s number, but that would be majorly overstepping boundaries. I’ll just have to wait and hope that she turns up for her session tomorrow.
If she doesn’t, then I’ll start overstepping boundaries.
To my relief, Livia’s waiting for me at Dom Fitness when I meet her at our appointed time. She seems pale and tired, but determined to get started, so I decide to save my questions for after our workout when she’s more relaxed.
Livia doesn’t want to wait that long, though. As she sits on the stationary bike for her warm-up, she says, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
I study her face. Which part of yesterday? I’m not sorry for making out with her, or seeing off her toxic ex.
“My ex can be a real jerk,” she finishes.
I want to ask her a hundred questions about her past with that man and what he did to her, but I’m conscious that that conversation is too personal for Dom Fitness and I’ve broken enough rules already.
“I’m just happy I was there. Let me know if he comes back, okay?”
We move to the free weights area, and Livia does everything I tell her to do but seems distracted the whole time. If I touch her shoulder or arm to correct her movements, then her eyes flick up to mine, big and liquid, as if she’s begging me to kiss her.
I can’t. I want to, but I just can’t.
All Livia’s movements are effortful and it’s taking all her strength and concentration to get through her workout. We get through the warm-up and the weights, and as we head over to the bikes for her cardio, I murmur, “Well done, bunny.”
Livia’s face suddenly crumples and tears well in her eyes. Oh, god, I’ve made Livia cry and I was trying to be so gentle with her.
“Livia?”
She sobs into her hands, and people are starting to look despite the no-staring rule. I glare at a few of them and their trainers correct their focuses, but there are still too many people looking at Livia. This is her worst nightmare and I can’t bear it.
I take her gently by the arm and steer her toward a door marked STAFF, and then down a corridor into an empty meeting room. I close the door behind us and we’re alone.
This isn’t allowed, but it’s Livia. Fuck the rules.
I take her in my arms and wrap my arms around her. “It’s all right, bunny. No one can see you but me. Let it all out.”
She sobs brokenly for several moments against my chest, and I just hold her.
When she starts to get her breath back, she whispers, “I’m sorry for crying and messing up the workout. You were being so sweet to me and I didn’t deserve it.”
I smooth her hair back from her damp face. “What do you mean, you didn’t deserve it?”
“Just now. I wasn’t doing well with that workout at all. I was waiting and waiting for you to tell me how terrible I was doing and then you said, ‘well done’ and I couldn’t bear it. You should be punishing me.”
My brow creases in concern. “But you were doing your best. I would never punish you for trying your best.”
Livia sobs harder. I stroke her hair, a tight ball of anger forms in my guts. What the hell did that asshole do to Livia?
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “I feel so raw, like all my defenses have been stripped away and I’m overreacting to everything.”
“You’re reacting, not overreacting. Would you like to talk about it?”
She chews her lip and nods, but then seems lost as how to go on.
“Have your feelings today got something to do with that man who showed up at your apartment yesterday?”