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Her emotions for me went through a long phase of idolization that morphed into chronic hatred and remained there. In the hatred part.
“And me?” she asks in a low whisper.
“You?”
“What will happen to me? Will you make me disappear as well if you catch me with another man?”
I stop at the bottom of the stairs and lift her chin with two fingers as I speak with chilling calm. “Will I catch you with another man, Mrs. King?”
She shakes her head twice.
“Then the question is redundant.”
“And what if it happens…hypothetically?”
“Hypothetically, I’ll claim you on his corpse so you recall who the fuck you belong to.”
Her lips part, but before she can say anything, Bonneville reappears, all freshened up and with a fake smile plastered on her face.
“You found her. Great! Do you want to join me for breakfast?”
“No.” I grab my wife’s hand and drag her out of the house.
She follows, but it’s abnormal. My wife feels too pliant, a bit lethargic, and lacks the usual spark that shines brighter than the northern lights.
The deterioration of her state that I was afraid of didn’t happen, but something else did.
What, I don’t know.
Henderson releases a small breath upon seeing us.
Ava shields her eyes from the rare English sun before she gets in.
As soon as we’re in the back seat, I turn toward her as she stares at the streets, too absentminded. “Was the party worth missing your medication and worrying Sam shitless?”
“I took my meds and Sam is allergic to concern.”
“When you speak to me, you look at me.”
She reluctantly turns around and crosses her arms, her defiant streak barely visible beneath the sheen of mysterious meekness.
Something’s off. Logically, she’d be giving me attitude for disappearing on her for a week by now.
But she’s not.
In fact, she looks a bit guilty.
“What happened?” I ask with practiced calm.
A delicate swallow works her soft throat. “Nothing. I just wanted to catch up with friends.”
“Those people arenotyour friends. I know it, your brain knows it, and even your heart would know it too if you opened it wide enough.”
“Last time I opened it, you cracked it to pieces.”
I grind my molars. “If this is your attempt at changing the subject, I’d like to inform you that it’s an epic failure.”
“It’s my attempt to remind myself that I shouldn’t be feeling this way. You have no morals, why should I?”
