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"It was the wind," she said absently, sarcasm present even if the will for it was not. She was looking at the counter. At the gift I'd brought her. "What's that?" It wasn't a question so much as an accusation.
We'd always been good at balancing each other out.
"I don't know," I drawled. "I think the wind carried it in when it was blowing off my clothes."
I could only see a hint of her profile with the way she was turned, but I caught her ghost of a smile.
My chest ached at the sight. To say I missed her was a cruel understatement, like saying you'd miss your soul after you gave it away. After it was torn from you.
I was empty.
Flesh without blood.
I was not whole without her.
Never would be.
I wasn't a big enough fool to believe that could ever change.
I downed the pills and took a long swig of my coffee. All the while she didn't move, just staring at the box.
"Open it," I urged her. I had no idea if she would. At that moment she was an utter enigma to me.
I still couldn't figure out why she hadn't made me leave yet.
Well, I had an idea, a gnawing, sickening suspicion, but my fear of the notion made me instantly reject it. Denial is a powerful thing.
I tensed when I realized she was actually going to open the gift, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
She took the Louboutins out of the box without a word, setting them side by side on the counter. "Highness Strass," she said reverently.
"Did you just address your shoes as Highness Strass?"
She shot me a look. "That's their name."
"You know the name of the shoe?"
She actually looked sheepish for a short, endearing moment. It was adorable. It made me want to kiss her silly. And fuck her mindless. But that was nothing new.
"What I mean is, I don't want them," she rallied. "Quit buying me shoes, you stalker."
"Well, you can throw them away, like the other pair, or do whatever you want with them, but I'm not taking them back, and I had to get you something. To congratulate you on landing the big part."
She was back to drooling over the shoes. "Why did you pick these ones, in particular?" She asked it with begrudging admiration in her voice.
I'd done well.
"I had help, from one of our department store stylists. I told her you were deep into shoe-porn, that you only get off on the hardcore stuff." I warmed as I saw that she had to bite back her smile. "And she recommended a few. These ones stood out to me the most."
With a sigh, she set them back in the box, turning to look at me. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was almost gentle with the finest edge of pain.
It was foreign on her, so unaccountably vulnerable, that it made me wince. "I told you earlier. I had a question for you. You didn't answer it."
She waved her hand in the air, dismissing the notion. "What I mean is, what are you doing in town?"
I stared at her, because she knew the answer to that. Still, if she wanted to play pretend, I could do that too. I was, in fact, excellent at it. "I'm here for work. Thought I'd stop by while I was in the neighborhood."
She folded her arms together until she was almost hugging herself and just stared at me.
