Chapter 20

Two weeks later…

Faye

"Yep. That sounds great. Thank you so much, Eileen." I'm sitting in the breakfast nook—my favorite spot in the house—one leg swinging, one knee pulled up to my chest. I have the most delicious mug of herbal tea steaming in front of me, the scent filling the room, and my favorite science magazine is open on the table.

It's Saturday morning. I quietly slid out of bed at seven and started my routine. Easton is still sleeping. He didn't get home until after three. But I've gotten comfortable with roaming his house alone, especially on the weekends when he needs to sleep and I don't have work.

It's still weird. I don't think of this house as mine. I feel like I'm kind of just staying here for a while. I'm happy, but I'm not ready to give up my apartment.

Easton bends over backward to ensure my needs are met. He's very polite and attentive to my weird desire to maintain structure. This is why I've already eaten, worked out, and showered.

I adore Eileen. She's the best and has confided in me how relieved she is that Easton has finally met a woman who makes him happy. Apparently, he was in a sour mood for a long time while he was dating Bethany.

Eileen makes my life easier. I'm not a great cook, so I usually stuck to the basics and ate a lot of frozen foods. She's the most amazing cook. She makes our evenings so smooth since she always has dinner ready. She has even shifted her hours so that she has breakfast for me and my lunch ready.

We argued about that part one evening for quite some time. I felt weird, causing her to change for me. I can handle breakfasts, but she insisted it was no problem, and she wanted to do whatever it took to be helpful.

I don't look at the clock as often. It doesn't matter that I don't sit down with my tea and magazine at some precise hour. In fact, I have more free time than I did in my apartment since Eileen does all the laundry and cleaning.

Sometimes, I feel weird about being waited on, but Eileen takes all the weirdness away with a wave of the hand. "It's my job. It's what I love."

Eileen chuckles.

I look up from my tea.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" she asks.

I flush. "Oh, uh. Sorry. I was in my head."

She's still chuckling and steps closer, hands on her hips. "Before you went into your head, dear, I was asking you about the menu for the coming week, and you agreed without hearing it."

I smile and shrug. "That's because all your cooking is amazing, and I don't care what you make. I'm just so grateful someone else is doing it. You have no idea. I feel like I woke up one morning, and suddenly, I'm a princess. You're spoiling me."

She smiles warmly. "You deserve to be spoiled, Faye. Have I mentioned how glad I am that Easton met you? He deserves to be spoiled, too."

The doorbell rings, and we both glance in that direction, which I've always thought was hilarious since looking at the other side of the kitchen doesn't reveal a single piece of information about who's at the door.

I climb out of my corner of the nook. "I'll see who it is."

"Are you sure? I can get it."

Eileen is in the middle of making bread. The dough is on the island. I shake my head. "I've got it."

I hurry through the house to the front door and open it without a thought.

A woman I've never seen is standing there. She looks like she's come for a high-powered job interview. She's wearing a formfitting navy dress that accentuates every perfect curve. Her nearly black hair is long and styled as though she just left a salon. Her makeup is expertly applied. She even has on heels. I wonder if she's a realtor and has come to the wrong house.

When I first opened the door, I caught a glimpse of a broad smile, but it fell instantly, and now she's frowning. "Who are you? Did Easton hire a new housekeeper?" She looks up and down my frame as though I'm nothing but trash.

Granted, I'm wearing comfortable leggings and a huge sweater. My feet are bare. My hair is up in a messy bun. I have on no makeup. But she has no right to look at me like that, nor should she be asking who I am. Who the heck is she?

"I'm sorry. You are…?"

She surprises me when she pushes the door open wider and steps into the house. She looks around. "Where's Easton? Is he still sleeping?" She heads for the stairs.

I'm so shocked all I can do is stand in the open doorway and watch her climb the stairs. I finally find my voice when she's about halfway up. "Uh, what are you doing?"

She turns to wink at me. "Don't you worry. I'm his girlfriend. Maybe stick to cleaning downstairs this morning."

All the air leaves my lungs. I'm so incredibly stunned I can't move. His girlfriend? Is this Bethany? She is not what I ever pictured. She's…like a wealthy model.

I'm nothing like her. Why is he even with me if he usually dates women who look like that? Insecurities flood me. I can't compete with that. If Easton likes his women all fixed up with fancy hair, nails, makeup, and designer clothes, he has chosen poorly with me.

Easton has never said a word about my style or my clothes, though one time, he told me he didn't care if I wore makeup or not, so I never do when we're at home, even though I know I look washed out without at least mascara. My eyebrows and eyelashes are blond.

The only discussion we've ever had about clothes was concerning him buying me fetish wear, which I proudly don when we go to Edge.

Eileen steps into the foyer, wiping her hands on a towel. "Faye? Who was at the door? Why are you still standing there?"

I glance at her and then back at the steps just in time to hear Easton shout. "What the fuck, Bethany?"

I wince.

Eileen's eyes go wide. "That bitch." I've never heard Eileen cuss, but she turns to the stairs and takes them two at a time.

I finally manage to shut the door, but there's no way I'm going upstairs to join the show. I want no part in this. I know I'm not in my right mind when I start doubting Easton, but I can't help it.

He was with Bethany for six months. I've known him for three weeks. I rub my hands together and look around. I want to hide. I kind of want to leave the house, but I don't have on shoes or socks, which are both upstairs. It's too cold outside for me to leave in bare feet. I'd freeze just getting to the car.

I hear Bethany's voice. "Eileen? You're here, too? How many cleaning ladies do you need, Easton?"

I flinch. Fuck her. What a pretentious bitch. There. I've used two cuss words. In fact, I repeat them out loud. "Fuck her. What a pretentious bitch." I feel oddly better having spoken my feelings.

Bethany represents every person I've ever encountered who bullied me. She's the kind of woman who looks down on people, smirks in their face, and talks about them behind their back. She's the kind of woman who would dump spaghetti down my blouse even at this age. She's a bitch.

I'm shaking. Easton dated this woman for months. What does that say about the kind of women he dates? Not people like me. I'm the polar opposite.

Easton is shouting now, but I'm not listening to his words. I can't. I'm too upset. I don't want to be standing here when they come back down, so I rush out of the foyer, down the hallway, and into Easton's office. It's more like a library, considering how many books he has in it. It has become my second favorite room in the house because it's so warm and inviting. Dark tones. Paneling, dark hardwood floors, jewel-toned area rugs, and mahogany leather furniture.

I grab a throw blanket off the back of the couch and curl up in the corner of the leather sofa, wrapping myself in a cocoon. I'm shaking. The shouting continues, but I can't make out the words anymore. I stare out the window at the backyard.

It's so beautiful, even when nothing is in bloom. This home is peaceful and comfortable. It's clean and orderly—which I love—but it's inviting and warm at the same time. I'm happy here.

I try to tell myself Easton is with me now. He's not with her. But it kind of freaks me out that he was ever with her. How was he dating such a bitch for six months?

He hasn't known me very long. If that's what I'm competing against, I'll never be able to hold his attention and keep him happy. I'm never going to be sophisticated like her. I'm ordinary and boring. My idiosyncrasies will drive him crazy soon.

I flinch when I hear stomping on the stairs. I cover my ears with both hands to block out whatever might be said next. I squeeze my eyes closed and rock back and forth in the corner. My comfort level is at its lowest.

I'm not sure how much time goes by before a hand lands on my shoulder. I jerk my eyes open and drop my hands, heart racing, as I realize it's Easton. He sits next to me, his hand still on my shoulder. He's wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. His hair is a mess from sleeping.

His brow is furrowed. "I'm so sorry, Faye."

I stare at him and then look down. My heart is still racing.

"Baby, look at me."

I shake my head and swallow. "I can't compete with that, Easton."

"Compete with what?"

I shrug. "The makeup, hair, nails, and designer clothes. It's not me. Why are you dating me?"

His breath hitches. "Faye, I don't give a fuck about hair, makeup, and clothes. Surely you know that. I'm glad that's not you. You're a breath of fresh air. You're real. You're just you. Nothing about you is fake. Most of the reason I've fallen in love with you is because you're exactly who you present. And I'm not dating you."

I gasp and look at him. I'm so confused. My brain is spinning from his last two incongruent sentences. He's not dating me? And he's in love with me?

He lifts my chin. "Baby, you're my girlfriend, my lover. You live in my house. You're mine forever. You're not a passing fling. I love you—so much it scares me. I've never loved another woman. I certainly didn't love Bethany. I didn't realize how incompatible she and I were. I was just going through the motions. Bethany, I was dating. You are so much more than that."

I can't breathe.

He releases my chin, tucks his hands under me, and lifts me onto his lap. He holds me close. "I love you, Faye," he repeats. "Do you get that? You're perfect for me."

"What was she doing here?" I need to know, even though I'd rather not.

"She had it in her head that she could change and be what she thinks I wanted. She can't change, and she was never something I wanted. I want what you and I have. Basically, she missed my money."

I frown. "Your money?"

He chuckles. "Faye, if you haven't noticed, I have a lot of it."

I think about that. Duh. Of course. I'm a dolt.

"See? You don't even give a fuck about money."

"I don't need money. I have my own." I sit straighter in his lap. "I make good money at my job. I save half of it every paycheck." I'm proud of what I've become.

He smiles and kisses me gently. "I love you." He kisses me again. "I love you." And again. "I love you."

I wrap my arms around his neck and look him in the eye. He's serious. He's not playing. I'm the luckiest woman alive. "I love you, too, Easton."

His grin widens, and he blows out a relieved sigh. "You scared me there."

I giggle. "Not as much as you scared me when that crazy woman came barreling into the house and straight up the stairs as if she belonged here, and I don't."

"Well, she doesn't belong here. You do. She never belonged. You're mine. I don't know what the hell I was thinking before I met you, but I'm a better man now because of you."

I push the blanket off me, glancing behind me and trying not to wince when it lands on the floor. Let it go. Shaking off my need to pick it up, I turn in his lap and straddle him, rocking forward so that my pussy rubs against his cock.

He slides his hands up my back. "Naughty girl."

"Mmm." I do it again. "Your naughty girl."

"Damn right." His hands come to my shoulders, and he holds me down. "I think you need to be reminded why we are so good together." He slides his hands down and pushes my shirt over my head, intentionally tossing it on the floor.

I'm not wearing a bra, and I gasp as I glance at the door. "Easton…"

"Eileen left. I deadbolted the doors. No one will see us."

I glance toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "What if the gardener comes?"

"The gardener isn't coming today, baby, and who cares? The thought of being caught naked makes you horny every time. My little exhibitionist likes the thought of possibly being exposed."

I shudder. He's right. My nipples are hard, and I rock against his cock again. "Maybe you should fuck me against the window." Who am I?

He chuckles. "Maybe I will. When did you start cussing like a sailor?"

"You should've heard me in the foyer after Bethany took off up the stairs, followed by Eileen."

"I'm sorry I missed that." He grins as he grips my ass and stands to carry me across the room. "I think I will fuck you against the window. I also think you should switch gears and submit to me, naughty girl."

A switch flips in my head at his command. "Yes, Sir."

"That's better." He holds me with one hand under my ass and drags one of the armchairs over to the window. Before I can process his intent, he strips me naked, leans me over the back of the chair, and restrains my ankles spread open to the legs of the chair. My ass is facing the window.

Easton pets me. "So gorgeous. So perfect. All mine."

"Yes, Sir."

"Never doubt me, baby. My heart is yours."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now, how long do you think I should tease you into submission before I fuck you clear into tomorrow?" His hand comes between my legs.

I cry out when he strokes my folds, barely grazing over my clit. "Five minutes, Sir?"

He laughs. "Try again, baby. Try again."