Chapter 31

Ricci

“You’re an idiot,” Lacie says.

“Honestly, I have to agree with her this time,” Ivy adds.

It’s been a month since Marisol moved in with Manny. A long, lonely month. While I see him when I go into the shop to do the books, now that I’ve got everything caught up, I only have to go in once a week as opposed to daily like I initially had to do.

I know from the chatter at the diner that Marisol is struggling a bit, and it breaks my heart for her. From what I understand, Manny has her in counseling, and his family has been helping get everything at Leanna’s house sorted out. I did attend the funeral, but sat in the back and left before he could reach me.

“Maybe I am, but it’s not like he’s reached out to me,” I retort, suddenly angry at my two sisters. “The phone works both ways, you know.”

“Yeah, it does, and if memory serves, he told you he was waiting on you to make the first move, remember?” Ivy asks, pointing her finger at me.

We’re at our weekly lunch, thankfully not at the diner, and I’ve spent thirty minutes listening to the two of them gang up on me regarding my choice to back off from Manny. Don’t they know what he’s come to mean to me? I cry myself to sleep every single night, then I feel guilty because his daughter’s mother died. She needs him more than me right now. I’m a grown adult while she’s still a child.

“So what do I do?” I question. “How do I tell him I screwed up?”

“Just like that, sweetie. The next time you go to the shop and he’s not busy with a customer, flat out tell him, ‘Manny, I fucked up. I miss you. Can you forgive me?’” Lacie retorts.

“What if it doesn’t work?” I whisper.

“Then he’s not the man we thought he was,” Ivy says, patting my arm. “Now, what are we having for dessert?”

* * *

The ringing phone rouses me from a deep sleep. Grabbing it, I hear, “Ricci?”

“Marisol? What’s wrong, honey?” I ask, already throwing my covers aside. I can hear her crying and without thinking, I slip my feet into my slippers, grab my keys and purse then head out to my SUV.

“I… I had a bad dream,” she whispers.

“I’m on my way. Do you want to stay on the phone until I get there?” I ask, switching over to hands-free.

“Yes, please,” she says, sniffling.

For the next fifteen minutes, I listen to her ramble about school, the therapist she’s seeing, how hard it’s been going through stuff at her old house. When I pull into the driveway and park, she practically flies down the steps and into my arms.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetie. Where’s your dad?” I ask. I don’t see his truck in the driveway which is odd.

“He had to deliver some furniture and is on his way back. I was with my grandma today, but I told her I’d be alright since he was going to be home tonight. I’m not a little kid, you know.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a responsible young lady. Come on, let’s get inside and see what we can find to snack on, okay?”

* * *

Several hours later, after finally getting her settled back down, I head to the couch where I curl up underneath the throw that was on the back and fall back to sleep. I haven’t slept well since I told Manny we needed to step back and the adrenaline rush from Marisol’s phone call, then subsequent crash has me snoozing quite soundly.

So soundly I don’t hear Manny arrive, or even stir as he carries me upstairs to his room and settles me in his bed. What wakes me up is my full bladder, only when I rouse enough to get up, I realize I’m no longer on the couch but on a bed and there’s a firm, muscular arm holding me down.

What the hell? My heart rate slows slightly when I realize it’s Manny, but still, it’s a bit discombobulating to fall asleep in one place and wake up in another. I manage to wiggle my way out from underneath his arm then head into his bathroom, where I quickly take care of business.

Since I’m up, I decide to check in on Marisol and find her peacefully sleeping. Her face is still puffy from the tears she cried earlier, but hopefully, her dreams are sweet. Turning, I run into Manny’s hard chest with an oomph.

Instead of saying anything, he takes me by the hand and after closing Marisol’s door, we head back to his bedroom, where he closes and locks the door before turning to me. “What happened tonight?” he quietly asks, his gaze never leaving mine.

He looks tired. Stressed even. Somehow, I know some of it is because of me and I feel bad.

“I’m sorry, Manny,” I reply. When he goes to say something, I hold up my hand. “Please, let me just say this first, then I’ll tell you what happened to cause me to be here, okay?” At his nod, I continue. “First of all, I fucked up when I said we should take a step back. I understand you might not feel the same way any longer, but not a day has passed that I don’t regret what I said to you. We should be together since Marisol is now living with you, and if you needed time, you would’ve said something. That’s on me and trust me, I’ve spent hours talking it over with my therapist, as well as my sisters.”

“What did they say?”

“My sisters said I’m a dumbass, of course. My therapist kind of said the same thing, but she didn’t use those exact words,” I mutter. He bursts into laughter and pulls me into his arms.

“You’re not a dumbass, sweetheart. And while I appreciate your apology, I promise, I’m not angry or upset. I actually understood why you did what you did, and respect the hell out of you for your compassion. It’s definitely not been easy, she cries a lot of course, and because of me being in prison, I missed some of the normal teenage girl angst and drama that my mom says is perfectly normal. Now, what happened tonight?”

“She called me crying, saying she had a nightmare. I didn’t think, just ran out of the apartment and headed here. Then I found out she was alone since you were coming home, so I decided to stay with her. We probably ate our weight in junk food, by the way, so I’m sure you’re going to need to restock the ice cream.”

He chuckles again at my words. “I’ve been considering getting a second freezer for the ice cream and what-not,” he advises. “Because it’s one of her favorite go-to foods.”

“Mine too, although I typically add chocolate syrup, sprinkles and even sometimes chopped nuts,” I admit. “None of which you have, by the way.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” he promises. “Now, why don’t you get comfortable in my bed again, where I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m going to grab a quick shower to wash the road off of me then we can get some sleep.” It’s then I realize that he fell asleep on top of the covers while I was tucked underneath them.

He then proceeds to kiss me until I’m breathless before turning me and giving me a slight push toward his bed. “I missed that,” he says, stalking into his bathroom. He doesn’t fully close the door, so I can hear him going about his nightly routine before the water turns on in the shower.

* * *

I’m curled on my side waiting for him to rejoin me as I think about where we’re currently at in our relationship versus where I want to be.

I want him.

I don’t care if he served time and is a felon.

I don’t care if he’s got a teenage daughter.

The fact of the matter is he treats me like I’m something precious to him. That’s something I watched growing up with Mama and Papa B. I thought I had it with Erik when we first got together, but that was obviously not the case.

As he slips into the bed, he looks at me and asks, “What has you thinking so hard over there?”

Taking a deep breath, I reach out so my hand is covering his and reply, “Make love to me, Manny. Make me yours.”