The Mercedes who first came here is a distant memory to the woman in my arms now. There are glimpses of her, to be sure, but less and less. She has grown. She is learning from her mistakes. She wants to make amends. I know what it took for her to apologize to Ivy. To ask to be included in their lives. The Mercedes of before would not have done that. Not even close.

What I don’t like is the sadness. This shadow swells ever bigger, taking up more space both inside and outside of her. And I know I am to blame for it.

Don’t be nice to me.

Because it would be easier if she hated me. And she may in some way. I’ve broken something inside her, just as she has me.

What a mess I’ve made. It’s easier when we fight. When we fuck.

Mercedes shivers, and I stand her up. She lets me dry her, her eyes on my face. My shirt is soaked, so I take it off and toss it aside. From beneath her pillow—when did it become hers, when did she get a side of my bed—I retrieve her pajama set. Silk shorts and a matching tank top.

“Theron did this the night you saved me from him,” she says, and for a moment, I am confused, but then she touches the small scar high on my cheekbone.

“I did worse to him.” I look her over, see the tiny triangle of dark hair she’s let grow between her legs. I like it. I like to run my fingers through it.

“Judge?”

When I drag my gaze to her eyes, she’s watching me. I set the pajamas aside. I cup her face, my thumb brushing her lips, knuckles sliding over one taut nipple as I drop to my knees before her. She swallows, weaves the fingers of one hand in my hair when I turn my attention to that small patch of soft hair and open her. I inhale her clean scent, then run the pad of my tongue over her. She shudders, and her fingers tighten. I lick again, hearing her moan when I nip at her clit. When I lift one of her legs over my shoulder, she holds on to me for balance.

I take her slowly. I rarely make love to her. We normally fuck. We fuck hard and rough, but this is different. Tonight, she needs soft. And I give it to her first with my tongue, devouring her, her taste and her scent an aphrodisiac. And when she comes, her standing leg buckles, and she leans into me, moaning, her grip on me so tight it’s like she’s pulling my hair out.