Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
“Dinner’s ready,” I murmured against his skin.
He twisted around onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and then caught my face between his hands and pulled me close to kiss him.
“Somebody’s awake,” I mused, feeling his erection hardening underneath me.
He groaned and tried to gyrate, grabbing my hips.
“Dinner will get cold and I worked hard. Let’s go, Mr. Sleepy.” I ruffled his hair, scooted off him, and he smiled lazily at me.
And she could cook. Fuck me. It was sweet that she’d done that while I slept, taking care of me like that, especially considering she’d spent last night in the hospital.
After dinner was finished, we cleaned up together, talking casually about things couples who were getting to know one another talked about: movies, music, video games. We didn’t have the same taste in most of it (her taste in music generally sucked) but she seemed open-minded enough and promised to watch old Bruce Lee movies with me if I promised to watch some Notebook movie with her. I had a feeling it was a chick flick. She shook her head when I muttered that but didn’t verbalize a no.
I built a campfire and once it was roaring, she proceeded to prepare and then demolish a bunch, maybe six, of her s’mores. I barely got one into me, trying to refuse it because I was stuffed from dinner, but relented and only because she insisted I eat “the best thing ever.” Talk about toothache on a graham cracker!
She was drowsy, yawning and staring sleepily at the fire, so I scooped her up and carried her back up to bed with thoughts of making love to her again. She acted all shy when I lifted her up but then the yawns and the moans as she held her belly from all the chocolate, crackers, and marshmallow led to me simply tucking her in and holding her until she fell asleep against me, her head on my chest, her leg hooked around me, and her fingertips slowly scrubbing the stubble on my chin. When her hand dropped as she finally dropped off, I kissed the top of her head and pulled her tighter to me.
I lay awake half the night holding her and thinking that I didn’t want to take her back to the house. I wanted to stay here with her, away from gunfire, seedy business dealings, and people who hated me enough to want to take out someone I loved. Being here, living a simple life where she cooked me dinner and I chopped wood and baited her hook… just us two… it had appeal.
Fuck the big house and the servants. Fuck the business. Fuck the truth. I just wanted to keep her here and forget everyone else existed. Keep her here and protect her, spend every minute making up for the shitty hand she got dealt when she ended up with O’Connor as a father and then wound up with me in her life.
Funny how I initially thought getting married was a means to getting more power, more autonomy, but now the idea of getting married got me thinking more about life with a wife than anything else, about the things and people I’d have to protect her from, about keeping my own demons at bay. I felt sick for a second when I imagined the fear I’d have one day when she carried my baby, the fear of someone taking her, hurting her, and my child.
A child. Shit. I also thought about the shit her father had told me, the shit Earl’d told me, and it all went round and round all fucking night long.
10
We woke up bright and early and Tommy grumpily told me that he hated tea, that it tasted like dishwater, that instant coffee was sacrilege, and that it was even worse that I was trying to offer either to him when it was to be made by microwaving water, that we needed to get a move-on quick because he needed real coffee ‘like now’. So we packed up and off we went, deciding that the next time we came we would bring a coffee maker and a few other staples to leave up here.
The drive back to the city was quiet; he seemed broody, even after he got a coffee. As we strolled in through the front door of the house and he turned his phone on, it made a long succession of text and voicemail alert noises. He scowled at the phone and if it weren’t an inanimate object it probably would’ve run and hid at that scary scowl.
He headed into the office without saying anything to me. A bodyguard I didn’t recognize carried the few bags we had upstairs and I wandered into the kitchen for a glass of juice before heading upstairs. My heart tripped as I walked through the hall, remembering the dead bodies of a few days ago. Now it looked like nothing had happened. The guard smiled at me and gave a business-like nod as we passed one another in the hall. The carpeting was gone and instead there were gleaming hardwood floors. The bedroom doors were open. One of the doors looked the same but was bullet-free, so a replacement door that was just the same must’ve been put in. Our bags had been dropped on the sofa. I got down onto my knees and looked under the bed. Sure enough, there were two guns and a knife up there. I got back to my feet and walked out onto the deck off the bedroom and now the backyard had a glass-like fence that was at least 20 feet higher. You could still see the forest beyond the infinity pool but through glass. My heart sank at that. I wandered into the bathroom to run a bath, wondering where the bodies had gone. I’d never been asked to make a statement to the police about how we were interrupted in bed by gunfire. Clearly, the police hadn’t been involved in the clean-up and there’d been no investigation. I sank into bubbles, trying to put it out of my mind.