The Imperfections: A Forbidden Romance

by Sam Mariano

  “I think it could’ve gone a little better,” I offer, generously.

  She scowls at me. “Well, I don’t have a choice, do I? Having a baby under these circumstances wasn’t my first choice, either. I figured when it happened someday my baby would have a father and we’d be in love, but… that didn’t happen. I fucked up, okay? What do you want me to do about it? I’m trying to make it right, but I can only work with what I have.”

  It’s not that she’s wrong; I just don’t like it. I can’t very well tell her she should try to make it work with the baby’s father or at least let him be in the kid’s life so it has some kind of male role model to look up to, because the father in question is married to my sister and already has a family. He’s also not at all someone who should be held up as a goddamn role model.

  The link to my family, even if it’s through Theo’s worthless ass, makes me feel some kind of connection to this kid she’s carrying, like it’s family, even if it really isn’t. Obviously I’d never let a niece or nephew of mine be born into squalor, and since her baby will be a sibling of my nieces and nephews (even if they never know that)…well, damn. I don’t know. Makes me feel bad, like maybe it’s my job to fix it.

  “I don’t think you should stay at your grandfather’s house,” I tell her, looking at her across the table. “Seems to me the place is full already. You have any other relatives you could stay with? Reliable ones?”

  “No,” she answers, taking the last bite of her eggs and standing, clearing her plate and glass from the table and taking them to the sink. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it, anyway. Aren’t you still thinking about killing me? Maybe I’ll never even get to have my baby.”

  It makes me feel mean, hearing her say that. I don’t like it. “I’m not gonna kill you,” I mutter.

  She looks back at me as I finish my orange juice and stand. “No?”

  I follow her over to the sink with my dishes. “No,” I verify, meeting her gaze. “Even if I could kill you, which I don’t especially want to do, turns out I don’t think I could live with killing a pregnant woman.”

  It’s an absurd statement to draw a smile out of her, but she gives me a little one anyway. “I knew you weren’t all bad.”

  “If you think that makes me good, I’d say your bar’s set a little low there, darlin’.”

  Her cheeks flush, but her pretty eyes are still glittering with pleasure.

  They’re not gonna be for much longer. I check the watch on my wrist for the time and see I need to get my ass to work. Technically, the place doesn’t open for a few hours, but the supply order comes on Saturday mornings, so I need to get in early to receive it and put it all away.

  Despite knowing how much she’s not gonna like it, I look at her and say, “Thanks for breakfast, but I have to lock you in my basement now.”

  Her smile disappears and dismay replaces her pleasure. “What?”

  “I’ve gotta go to work,” I explain. “I didn’t plan to bring you back here, so I don’t have another room secure enough to keep you in while I’m gone all day. I have a bedroom upstairs I can fix up to make sure you can’t get out, and I’ll stop at the hardware store tomorrow to get what I need to do that, but for today, the only place I have without windows and with a lock strong enough to hold you is in the basement.”

  Her jaw hangs open and she looks so damn offended, I get the absurd feeling she’s about to yell at me. “Are you serious right now? Why would you lock me up in a basement?”

  “I just told you—”

  “If I wanted to run, I could have done it already! You’re only keeping me here for the weekend, and you just said you don’t even want to kill me anymore, so what the hell, Brant? Why do you have to lock me up?”

  I didn’t say I was only keeping her for the weekend. I don’t know where she got that idea, because when I took her out of her house last night I had no intention of ever returning her, but maybe she got confused by the note I made her leave. I was only buying myself a couple days, but she must have thought it meant I’d bring her back when my excuse for her disappearance expired.

  Maybe that’s why she’s not as desperate to leave as I thought she’d be. Here I am thinking she understands she’s a prisoner with a bleak outlook on what’s to come, and in reality she’s thinking I’m only forcing her to be my house guest for a weekend.

  If she thinks that, she’s probably telling the truth. There’s little reason for her to run beyond impatience to get home, but it would be an awful lot of trouble just to get home a day sooner, and she doesn’t seem to hate my company. Maybe her misunderstanding of the situation will work in my favor.

  “I can’t just leave you here alone all day,” I say, testing the waters.

  “Why not?” she demands. “I could let Scout out and keep him fed so you don’t have to put out a bowl. I can clean up the breakfast dishes and maybe make you a grocery list. I’ll find ways to keep myself busy. My house is rarely quiet, so a peaceful weekend in the woods sounds pretty nice to me. Do you have any books? I can relax and read a book while Scout plays outside. Scout wants me to stay,” she informs me.

  “Does he, now?”

  She nods solemnly. “He told me so. He doesn’t want me to be a basement dweller.”

  My lips tug up in reluctant amusement. “You promise you’ll be here when I come back?”

  “I promise,” she verifies. “I’ll even keep wearing your old T-shirt instead of my clothes, if that will help convince you.”

  Her mention of it brings my gaze back to her body wrapped up in my clothes. I’ve never actually seen a woman wear my shirt before, but as my gaze wanders over her, I find myself liking it.

  “Looks better on you than me,” I admit.

  “I’m sure it looks great on you,” she says, flashing me a smile I’d almost call flirty, but I’m not sure. Maybe I’m imagining it.

  “Yeah?” I murmur.

  She nods, suddenly bashful, then she steps forward and wraps her arms around me. I blink in surprise when she looks up at me, but it’s so unexpected, I don’t think to hug her back.

  After a few seconds, she lets go and awkwardly retreats a couple steps. Her cheeks are flushed and I think about explaining, but I don’t even know what I want to explain.

  “I won’t go anywhere,” she tells me again before turning around and facing the sink. Without waiting for me to leave, she turns the water on and starts washing dishes.

  I stand there for a second, feeling like I did that wrong, but I really need to head out, so I don’t try to fix it right now. I go to the door and whistle for Scout. He comes barreling at me. I bring him inside and kneel down, rubbing his head.

  “I’m gonna go to work,” I tell Scout. “You stay here and keep an eye on Alyssa, all right? Make sure she doesn’t do anything crazy.”

  Alyssa casts me an unamused look from the sink, and I crack a smile. Looking back at Scout, I pet him for another minute, pat his belly, then stand.

  “I guess I’ll go, then,” I announce uncertainly.

  I’m gonna feel stupid if this girl’s playing my ass. As I head to the door to put my shoes on, I think about changing my mind. Could be she’s lying and saying all this so I will leave and let her stay here unattended. Could be as soon as I’m far enough down the road she knows I’m not coming back, she hightails it out of here and never looks back.

  I linger at the door, unsure what to do. I walk back to the kitchen as quietly as I can and peek in on her, just to see if her mannerism has changed since I left the room.

  She’s still standing at the sink, scrubbing a plate from breakfast and smiling down at Scout sitting on the floor by her feet.

  “Do you like to play fetch?” she asks him.

  As if answering, Scout barks at her and wags his tail.

  I sigh, deciding just to leave her be. Maybe she’s a damn good liar and I just don’t see it. Either way, I guess I don’t have a right to complain.

  If I come home tonight an
d she’s still here, I’ll know I was right to trust her.

  If I don’t get to come home because cops show up at the bar to arrest me, well, I guess I earned it.

  At least if she does turn me in, I won’t worry Scout’s going hungry here all by himself. Whether or not Alyssa decides to keep me around, I know she’ll take care of my dog.

  5

  Brant

  As days go, this one’s the slowest.

  Even though the cell signal’s shit on some parts of my property, I’ve never regretted getting rid of my landline until now. I don’t have much use for a phone most of the time, but today, I wish like hell I could call my house and just make sure she’s there to pick up.

  Despite spending half the day convincing myself she’ll be gone by the time I get home, I take a break before the grocery store closes and run over to do some shopping. I don’t have an exhaustive list of what my house needs, but I do know Alyssa told me I needed to buy more eggs. While I’m there I pick up a couple steaks, some bread, bacon, another grapefruit, a couple of bananas, a box of spaghetti, and some red sauce. I know Theo said she made spaghetti one night, but I don’t know what else she makes.

  As soon as I can shut the doors to the public, I do. Normally, my employees hate closing with me because my standards of cleanliness are higher than the Sunday night manager’s, but tonight I decide the place is as clean as it needs to be and we all leave early.

  I never work Sundays, so I have the day off tomorrow, and dumb as it is, I’m kinda looking forward to spending it with Alyssa.

  Assuming she’s still at my house, anyway.

  When I get to the end of the driveway and see lights on inside, I start to get my hopes up that she’s here. I tell myself she could have just left them on before she left to throw me off for a few extra minutes, but when I get the front door open and my nose is assaulted by the aroma of a fresh lemon scent, my hopes rise higher.

  That’s gotta mean she mopped the floors. Who mops the floors and then leaves?

  She’s not in the living room or kitchen. I check the screened-in porch, but she’s not there, either.

  My hopes start to fall, but I tell myself she’s probably just upstairs. Instead of going to check right away, I lock the front door, shut off all the lights, and put away the groceries I just bought.

  As I’m doing that, I can’t help noticing how she tidied the place up. All the counters are sparkling clean, the sink is empty and clean as it’s ever been, and the floors have been swept and mopped. Scout’s dish is empty, of course, but the bowl isn’t just licked clean; it’s obviously been washed.

  I don’t usually have the time to do that stuff, so it’s nice that she did.

  Once the food is put away, I turn off the lights and head upstairs. I don’t hear anything, though, and I’m starting to worry she did leave, and she just cleaned my goddamn house first. That seems like the kind of thing she’d do, knowing she had all day. I’ll go upstairs and find no Alyssa, no Scout, just a clean, empty house.

  That depresses me a little more than it should, and that doesn’t bode well. I don’t know why I like having her here. Usually I like being off on my own, just me and Scout, but somehow it feels like she could fit into my life if I wanted her to.

  It’s probably just because she hasn’t been here long, so it’s a novel experience. Give it another day or two and I’m sure I’ll be ready to get her out of here so I can get back to my solitary life.

  I keep filling my own head with reasons it’s good she’s gone, offering myself the solace that even though she left, the fact that I didn’t get arrested today must mean she doesn’t hate me too much. Maybe she just went home and she doesn’t want any trouble, but she doesn’t ever want to see me again, either.

  As I approach the landing at the top of the stairs, I note that the hall light’s on. Peeking down the hall, I can see my bedroom light is on, too. I try to ignore the anticipation that builds with each step I take toward it, but it reaches even higher as I start to realize there’s music playing, and it seems to be coming from my bedroom.

  My whole being lightens when I get to my bedroom door and see Alyssa dancing around inside. She appears to be doing laundry, folding the T-shirt of mine she wore at breakfast this morning. She’s showered and clean, her long blonde hair falling in smooth, shiny waves down her back. Since I still have her clothes locked up, she’s wearing one of my red flannels, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her pretty legs bare. I imagine she’s not wearing panties again—unless she pulled some out of thin air—and my blood warms at the thought.

  I don’t know how she knows the words to the song. She’s way too young to know his music, but she’s singing right along to one of my favorite Tom Waits albums. I don’t know how she figured out how a record player works, either, but that’s what she’s listening to.

  Scout lies on the floor by the bed, sleeping peacefully while Alyssa amuses herself.

  I sigh, leaning my head against the doorjamb as she and Tom Waits sing I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You.

  I want to kiss her so goddamn bad.

  Swallowing down the desire to do that, I take a step into the room. Alyssa tucks my neatly folded T-shirt into a drawer beneath the bed, and as she bends over I get a peek at her ass. Yep, no panties. I really like that habit of hers.

  Her body shifts as she straightens and goes to grab a towel she hasn’t folded yet. She must catch sight of me in her peripherals, because she gasps and clutches her chest.

  “Oh my God! You scared me.”

  I crack a smile. “Probably the right response.”

  She huffs and rolls her eyes as she turns to face me. Then she smiles and holds out her arms. “See? I’m still here.”

  She doesn’t know how good that feels, and I don’t know why it does. “You are,” I mumble, nodding my head. I know from my response she’d never guess I’ve agonized about it all damn day, but she doesn’t need to know that.

  “Scout and I had a busy day,” she tells me. “I cleaned everything. Scout watched and gave me solid feedback on the things I missed, so of course he’s tuckered out.”

  “Of course,” I murmur, playing along.

  “Your house was definitely in bachelor condition, but now it looks like you have a domestically inclined wife, so… you’re welcome.”

  “I appreciate it,” I tell her, moving toward her until I’m close enough to reach out and grab her around the waist.

  She gasps in surprise as I tug her close to me. I don’t know why some part of me still expects her to recoil, but she merely smiles up at me and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Hi,” she says amiably.

  “Hi,” I say back.

  Her gaze drops to my lips and her teeth sink into her bottom one. Then her gaze moves to my eyes and she licks her lips, practically inviting me to kiss her.

  I want to, so I don’t know why I don’t. Looking past her at the record player, I ask, “How do you know Tom Waits?”

  “We’re close personal friends,” she states.

  I cock a disbelieving eyebrow.

  Her eyes twinkle with amusement. “Actually, I’d never heard of him before today. I don’t know any of the music you have, so I just picked records at random until I found one I liked. I really like this guy’s voice. It’s raw and rough and kind of… smoky? Does that make sense? I sound like I’m describing meat, but…” She trails off, unsure how to explain it.

  I crack a smile. “There was this music critic, Daniel Durchholz, who famously said Tom Waits has a voice that sounds like it was ‘soaked in a vat of bourbon, left hanging in the smokehouse for a few months, and then taken outside and run over with a car.’”

  Her eyes light up and she lightly smacks her hand against my bicep. “Yes, that’s exactly how it sounds.”

  I shake my head, surprised. “Damn. You’ve got good taste in music for someone who looks so much like a Barbie doll.”

  “You shouldn’t judge people by their appearances,” she says
cheekily.

  “I guess not.” I reach out and catch one of her long, smooth locks of hair between my fingers. “You sure are pretty, though.”

  Despite her censure a moment ago about judging her appearance, that brings a flush of pleasure to her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  I let go of her hair and bring my hand in to touch her face, running it along her jaw. She holds my gaze as my fingertips skim the side of her neck, the curve of her shoulder. I drop my hand lower and palm her soft breast in my hand. The little gasp that slips out of her goes straight to my cock.

  “You ready for bed?” I ask, voice low.

  Alyssa nods her head, not waiting for direction this time. She undoes the couple buttons of my flannel she bothered to button up, then pulls it open and peels it off, revealing her naked body for me to look at.

  My cock jerks against the prison of my pants. My gaze drops to her perfect tits, then I tilt my head and take one in my mouth. She sighs with pleasure, bringing a hand up and pushing her fingers through my dark hair. I tease her hard little nipple with my tongue and she moans, sending a wave of arousal through me, twisting up my stomach.

  I break away from her abruptly, walking over and turning the light off. I’d like to leave it on so I can look at her, but I know once I’m done fucking her, I’ll be too drained to move again.

  Alyssa quickly clears the last towel off the bed, taking it to the bathroom while I undress. I walk over and turn the record player off, kicking half my clothes off on the floor she just cleaned. Damn, I feel bad making a mess already, but not bad enough to delay getting her in that bed.

  I’m naked when she comes back in, and I can’t help noticing her taking advantage of the opportunity to check me out. Last night wasn’t passionate, especially for her. She was nervous and I was tired. I got mine, but I didn’t take the time to take care of her, and she didn’t seem to expect me to.

  That’s not how it should be, not what she should expect of a man she’s giving access to her body, and I don’t want her thinking it is since her experience is so limited. I don’t know what kind of lover Theo is—don’t want to know—but I’d guess selfish.