Perfectly Ruined by:jdollar *a D'Amore story*

Chapter 66

:::::: some women are 'once in a lifetime' type of females, there is no upgrade after her. :::::::
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Pauly
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I wake from a stressful sleep. Care clings to me as she does every night. It is only her presence that brings me any sense of comfort. As it always has.
Yet, this morning, I feel dread too.
I couldn't tell her last night. Not so soon after such upsetting set of events. She'd been through enough for one evening. I didn't want to add more to it.
Her features are relaxed in her sleep, at least, one of us truly got the rest we needed.
Carefully, I untangle my limbs from her's. It's early still. Dawn just making it's first appearance. She should rest as much as she can. The pull on my stitches is more irritating than painful. The ache pounding in my temple is far worse. Too much weed and whiskey. A shower, quick fuck or rub one out, and Tylenol is how I usually fixed such matters. My eyes fall to the sleeping girl beside me. Care is anything but a quick fuck. And I've no desire to disturb her rest for my own selfish needs.
Her contentment meaning more than mine.
So a shower and my own hand it is.
Though once in the steamy hot water, my own touch does little, especially due to the stitiches on my fingers that I had forgotten, and leaves me only wanting her more. Even with thoughts of her bent over that desk from the night before....before the attack... I still can't bring myself to finsih.
Dissatisfied and head still pounding, I rummage through my closet. Only grinning as I realize she has taken up more than half of it with her fashions and ridiculous amount shoes. Really, how many dresses and high heels does one woman need?
With an annoyingly great amount of difficulty, I finally successfully dress myself. I step back into our bedroom, she's rolled over in sleep. No doubt, unconsciously seeking out my missing body heat. I sigh heavily and move closer to my bed. A lock of chestnut hair has fallen over her face. Gently, my index finger reaches out to move it from her flawless skin.
On God, I've never known a woman more beautiful. Of course, I'm biased because she holds my jet black heart in the very palm of her hand. Even still, she is the most desirable woman I've ever met. I hadn't intended on falling in love with her. Get her in bed? Absolutely! But never to form a true attachment with her.
I've my plans for how I see our future. Plans that I haven't exactly shared with her yet. Especially since, I've needed time to accept the fact that I, Pauly D'Amore, was actually making plans for my future. A future that very much includes having her in it. The fact that the very idea was not terrifying me to my core was shocking enough.
It's surprised me how easily I've learned to be with a woman. In a relationship. How much I enjoy coming home to her every night. To make love to the same woman every night and still burn for her as intensely as I did before I first slept with her. More so. Hell, the idea that I now use terms like 'make love' means that something has changed! I've changed.
Because of her.
And I don't hate the idea.
She's made me a better person.
Not perfect. No one ever will be. I certainly don't ever want to be. But better... that will do.
A soft sigh comes from her, snapping me out of thoughts of love and admiration. Bringing me back to reality.
I'm afraid, I realize.
I know what must be done but I am frightened by the reaction I will get from her. I'll hurt her with the truth. That her father must die.
And God help me, it will kill me if she hates me for it.
And if I loose her because of this...
With all that has happened, the pain she has endured because of her relationship with me... I can't regret keeping her. But I have to wonder if she wouldn't have been better off if I'd have only listened to her father all those months ago. Should I have just let her go?
She would probably still be dating Jamie Valter. Never have gotten pregnant and then had her child stolen from her womb. She would have never of had to face what he father truly was. He would have continued to use her, rule over her life, but she wouldn't have been hurt. She'd have been a puppet on his strings and never have known it. She would have gone on living her life happily, none the wiser.
Would Caroline Barlow have been better off if I had never darkened her doorstep?