Blyssfully Undone (The Blyss Trilogy 3)

“Where am I?” I ask, confused.

He kisses my nose first, and then answers me, “You’re home, sweetheart.” I roll my head to the side and realize I’m in his master bedroom, on his king-sized bed, and tucked under a thick, soft comforter.

“I don’t remember you carrying me in.”

His smile grows wider as he rubs his nose with mine in a gesture of familiarity.

“Your body apparently needed the rest. You’ve been sleeping for several hours now. It’s dinnertime. You have to be hungry by now, no?”

I’m too sleepy to be able to discern as to whether or not I’m hungry, so I shrug my shoulders.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, “maybe you’ll feel like eating after a nice, hot shower.” A hot shower does sound wonderful. Being that I’ve been up since before the crack of dawn, and then ran a marathon, I feel sticky, grimy and somewhat chilled. I nod in reply.

“C’mon then, let’s get you up.” And with those words, he peels back the blanket and I shiver, suddenly cold with the need to have scalding hot water warm my bones. He gets off the mattress and holds his hand out for me.

I take his hand and scoot out of bed as a chill runs through me. I quickly glance around at my surroundings, and as I take in his décor, I’m somewhat surprised. His tastes are not what I would’ve expected them to be. I pegged him as clinical and modern, but as I look around the room, it’s full of ornate and eclectic décor, with splashes of color everywhere.

“Do you like it?” I pull my gaze away from the grandeur of the room and sheepishly smile at him. “I’ve done my own homework too,” he says, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me into him. “I’ve come to know your tastes for unique pieces of art and composition. I put most of this together myself, but I’ve left many open spaces on the walls so you can display your own masterpieces as you accomplish them.”

He leans back, looking at me as his thumb rubs between my brows, smoothing out the wrinkles. His lips lift in a sly grin. “What? Don’t look so surprised. How could you not think I wouldn’t want pieces of your work spread throughout our home?”

I’m speechless. What am I supposed to say? Nick looks jovial and happy, and I’d prefer this over maniacal Nick any day. I decide to return a small smile, one that I don’t feel, in order to keep the peace. He leans in and quickly brushes his lips against mine, and I close my eyes.

“Let me show you to the master bath.” He guides me into the bathroom, and my eyes go wide. It’s freaking huge. It’s as big as one of the bedrooms back at the cabin. Pointing toward the earth-toned marble shower, he states, “The towels are already warm for you.” I spy two thick, plush towels draped over a towel warmer, and I can’t wait to feel the soft warmth on my skin after I clean up. I hug myself out of awkwardness, not knowing what to do with myself.

Nick then steps forward and opens the large shower door, turning the water on for me. “It’s a little tricky to figure this system out for the first time,” he says as he focuses on the feel of the water streaming out. When he’s satisfied, he steps back and wipes his arm dry as he turns to look at me.

“Go ahead and shower up. I’ll go downstairs and see how much longer it will be before dinner will be ready.” Nick leans in, and gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek before he leaves.

Suddenly, I feel all alone in this big bathroom. I feel cold and empty, both inside and out as I quickly get undressed and step into the shower. “Ohh…” Goose bumps erupt all over my body as the hot water hits and cascades over my chilled skin.

I close my eyes and lean into the spray, allowing the water to rush over my face, and I begin to think about the past twenty-four hours. I’ve stayed strong for far too long, and held back tears one too many times, all in the name of hope. I scoff aloud.

Hope. What a joke.

The memories come charging at me like a hurricane with gale force winds, knocking me off my feet, and before I know it, I’ve fallen to my hands and knees in wretched despair. My crazy, dysfunctional, and fractured life is just too much for me to bear. My heart and soul have been destroyed, blown into subatomic particles, which can never be pieced back together again.

Looking back, it all makes sense now. The year I was sent to boarding school was when my dad was extra moody. I remember Jake toted him around an unusual amount of times, but they passed it off as being extra busy with his business. This must be why Jake never had a life and could never get married. My dad kept him busy around the clock with his psychosis issues, and at the same time, he had to watch over my safety.