Not Quite Perfect

Mary didn’t trust herself to speak . . .

“I see someone hurt who is too afraid to open herself up and let others in to heal her.”

“I don’t need someone else to heal me.”

“You don’t want to need someone to heal you. You only want to depend on the only person in your life who has always been there . . . yourself.”

“You and I both know Glen is temporary. Depending on him for more than what we have right now would be a mistake on my part.”

“Maybe. I don’t have a window into that man’s brain and he hasn’t asked me for your ring size, so maybe he is transient. But he is a good guy who wants to help a friend out.”

“Help . . . don’t demand.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t accept any help without the other person demanding it.”

Chapter Twenty

The rag Glen was using to remove the word bitch off of Mary’s bathroom mirror did a great job of smearing the lipstick instead of taking it off.

Mary walked in during his efforts and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m sorry.”

“Forget about it.” He kept scrubbing, making the mess bigger.

“No, Glen . . .” She approached from behind, placed her hands on his shoulders. “I was way out of line.”

He caught her reflection in the mirror and dropped the towel on the counter. “You’re under a lot of stress.”

“Doesn’t excuse bad behavior. I know you just want to help.”

He turned around, placed his hands on her hips.

“Let me help you.”

Mary closed her eyes.

“Please. I have the means, Mary.”

“Glen—”

“I can’t stay here indefinitely, I do have a life at home. But leaving you here less than protected would be impossible. Especially if there is something I can do.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m asking.” He reached for her chin and forced her to look at him. “I’d want to do this even if I lived across the street. The fact I’m so far away makes it even more important. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed if—”

She cut him off with a long-suffering breath. “Okay. Put in the locks, the security system.”

He’d won.

He tried not to smile.

“It’s the right thing to do,” she said.

Glen pulled her in for a kiss. He didn’t mean for it to be anything but a thank-you, but she reached around and latched on.

A simple meeting of lips quickly turned into lava.

His heart kicked in his chest and his body responded.

When he pushed away from the counter, Mary jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Glen caught the globes of her ass in his hands and walked the both of them over to her bed.

They fell together, Mary pulling at his clothes. Her struggles were desperate and needy, and this was where Glen knew he could help and she wouldn’t protest.

The floor of the room was still a mess, but the bed had been remade before they’d gone to dinner.

Mary clawed her way past his clothing, making quick work of her own.

Only when Glen pushed into her did she still. While her desperation to get to this point had been frantic, now that turned to a slow, steady gait to heaven. “I have you,” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

Glen stopped asking permission the following day.

He called a local service to remove the trashed furniture. The only thing left in the living room was a lone surviving lamp and the TV. Even the cable box had been destroyed, but the man hadn’t touched the television. The cords to the speakers of her stereo system were cut in half, the console itself thrown on the floor.

They kept a running list of everything that ended up in the Dumpster for the insurance company.

They passed through the empty room to her kitchen. One of the two bar stools had been slashed like her sofa, the other was intact. The wooden kitchen table and chairs had survived. Thankfully he hadn’t bothered with her washer and dryer, which had been running nonstop since they’d started cleaning the place up.

Mary’s bedroom was starting to smell like a brothel. All her perfumes and cosmetics had been dumped on the floor, many of the bottles broken and leaking onto the carpet. While they had made the bed the day before and slept in it, there was a massive slash in the mattress, which would need to be replaced sooner than later.

Her dresser survived and most of her clothing.

Glen called a tow service to take Mary’s car in for repairs. The insurance companies were haggling over who was ultimately responsible for the bill, and at one point the mechanic vacillated on starting the work. Glen pulled him aside, handed him a credit card, and told him he was covered. Mary hadn’t seen the transaction when he’d done it, and he resolved himself to the fact he’d have to ask her for forgiveness later.

They went from the mechanic to rent her a car. All the questions remained the same . . . will the auto insurance pay for the rental? They didn’t know, and Mary ended up using her credit card to drive away.

Her home office was intact, just in such disarray it would take her weeks to put everything to rights.

By the time they were ready for dinner, Glen had scheduled a professional service to clean the carpets upstairs the next day and a contractor to come and give an estimate for repairs on three of the walls, which took the brunt of the force the bastard who’d done this had inflicted when he threw her belongings around the room.