I snorted again. “You’re a fucking idiot. Anybody ever tell you that?”
Paxton spun me around to face him, but it wasn’t the anger I’d expected. His hands held my face, forcing me to look at him. I did, but I didn’t really see him. I saw a dark silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are. I can’t handle this. I just want things to go back to the way they were before you took off to God knows where.”
“Is that what you really want, Pax? You want me to be that person? Your person?”
“It’s what you agreed to. We had a deal, and you’re fucking it all up,” Paxton said out of desperation. His thumb brushed a tear from my eye and his lips kissed mine.
“I have a feeling you’ve never known me. You know nothing about me.”
Paxton sighed and dropped his hands. His arms crossed and he looked to his bare feet. “That’s the way it was supposed to be. That was the deal. I never wanted to know you. Not until now.”
“What does that mean, Paxton?”
“Come in here. I want to show you something.”
Paxton took my hand and I followed, feeling so overwhelmed. So lost, and broken.
Chapter Twelve
Paxton unlocked his office door and I looked around. Nope. Nothing. Not one thing felt familiar.
“Sit,” he ordered.
I sat in Paxton’s leather chair and he reached around me. Every room in the house came alive. I had been on camera ever since I’d met him.
“Look at the difference in you. This footage was taken the day before your accident.”
I watched with outrage, shock, and confusion. One second I felt raped, and the next puzzled. It was me. I was in the kitchen, dressed, hair done, makeup on, and breakfast on the table. The microwave said six-thirty, and I could tell by the brewing coffee and the darkness behind the doors that it was morning.
Paxton walked in, carrying work boots. After setting them to the floor, he strolled over and kissed me. A pang of anger shot through my chest when I watched him hold my jaw and say something. Something out of anger.
“I can’t hear it,” I said. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know a typical day. The life of Gabriella Pierce—pre-accident.
“You don’t need to hear it. That’s not my point. Just watch,” Paxton said. His arm went over me again and he sped up the feed and turned up the volume. “Listen how you talk to the girls here,” he said as the video moved ahead to breakfast with Rowan and Ophelia.”
“Rowan, sit up straight. Eat your breakfast,” I said from the island.
A fight broke out from nowhere. Ophelia used her napkin and she screamed. The look on my face was always the same. It never changed. Not from happy to sad, or angry to scared. Nothing. I was emotionless.
My expression never even changed when Paxton entered the kitchen. He settled the fight in a split second. Both girls sat up and ate.
“Can you do anything to help out around here?” Paxton said through the speakers, lips on mine.
I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “How could I do anything when you didn’t even give me time?”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Gabriella. Look.” Paxton switched to another folder. A couple of days ago. I remembered that day. Both girls were sitting on the bar stools, eating apple slices. Ophelia took a slice from Rowans plate and licked it. Rowan did the same to hers, but Ophelia screamed a shrill, extremely long, ear-piercing scream.
Unlike the last time where I wore the same blank stare, I cocked my hip and looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Paxton stormed around the corner, but his face, too, changed. His expression shifted from anger to bewilderment.
I placed two fingers between my lips and whistled louder than her scream. She stopped. Total shock on her face.
“What are you screaming about?” I questioned while my elbows slid across the smoky gray marble for eye contact.
“Her licked my apple,” she whined.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. No whining. I can’t understand you when you do that.”
“Why did you lick her apple, Row-row?”
“Ophelia did it first.”
I held my eyes in contact with Ophelia’s and she looked down. “Look at me, Phi. Don’t look down when someone’s talking to you. You look them straight in the eyes. You’re bigger than that. Now. Did you lick Rowan’s apple first?”
“She did,” Rowan tattled.
“Shh, hang on.” I wagged one finger in the air.
“Yes,” Ophelia confessed.
“Which one?”
Rowan pointed to the apple her sister left her germs on. “This one.”
“Pick it up, Phi,” I requested with a nod toward the contaminated apple. Ophelia picked it up and placed it on her plate. “Which one did Rowan lick?” Ophelia pointed to the slice and Rowan picked it up.