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“Right…I’m not sure where this dream fits, and it seemed so real.”
“When I dream about your mama, it always feels real. I sure do miss her.”
“Daddy, you got three women, and you still miss Mama?”
“Baby girl, it’d take a million women to replace your mama. She was one of a kind.”
“Yeah, she was.”
“Well, I’ma let you go. Just wanted to check on you.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
We ended the call, and I sat there on my bed for a while before moving to the other side to peep out the window again. There was still no evidence of a murder having been committed in that alley, but the memory of it was alive in my mind. The man—the killer—so tall and menacing, and his eyes…dark, intense, and beautiful in an eerie way. This man was…striking and murderous and fucking creepy. It all seemed too real. He’d seemed so real that as I reviewed the images in my mind, my body reacted with a mixture of fear and intrigue.
Shit, I thought, that was one hell of a dream.
That dream had me so messed up that in the week or so following its appearance, I’d stopped sleeping in my bed, opting to doze on my sofa in the living room. I kept my place dark at night and the blinds closed. I used the back door to the boutique that led directly to my apartment’s stairwell to go to work when I did, which was becoming less and less frequent since I was scared as hell to step foot outside my little home. I definitely wasn’t leaving the building.
As I no longer spent time watching the street, I almost jumped out of my skin when someone rang the doorbell. I peeked out the window to see Marlon’s car parked out front. Relieved, I shut my eyes and blew out a breath. He rang the bell again, and I quickly left my apartment, rushing down the stairs. I checked the peephole to be sure and then let him in.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he replied, his tenor sounding melancholy.
We stood there for a moment before he uttered, “I’m sorry for how I reacted to you…leaving. I shouldn’t have raised my voice or used profanity. You didn’t deserve that.”
Sighing, I extended, “Come on up.”
I hate to admit it, but I was happy to see him. Although I’d been dodging basically everyone I knew, I was lonely, afraid, and just plain tired.
He followed me up the stairs and into my living room. Once I was seated and had pulled a blanket over my legs, I looked up to see him staring down at me, his eyebrows knitted together.
“Oh! Have a seat. There’s room on the other end of the couch,” I offered.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a few octaves higher than usual.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I lied. “Why?”
He shrugged, finally taking a seat near my feet. “You look tired. You’ve been missing sleep, too?”
Frowning, I asked, “Just been dealing with some wild dreams is all. You haven’t been sleeping?”
“Of course I haven’t. My girl left me and has been avoiding me ever since.”
“Marlon…I just…I told you why I had to leave.”
“And I get it, but I love you. I thought you loved me, too.”
“I do. You know I do, but let me ask you this: if you love me, shouldn’t you want what’s best for me, for my mental well-being?”
“I do!”
“Okay…well, being in this relationship is bad for my mind and my heart. I love you deeply, and I want to be with you. It hurts me to know I’ve upset you or upended your life, but sitting around knowing you can’t be fully mine? Well, that’s worse than anything else I could ever think of.”
He dropped his head. “I’m just trying to do right by Felice. I owe her that.”
“And I’m trying to do right by me. I owe me that after twelve years. I’ve given you and this whole situation my best years. I can’t give anymore. I’m…I’m depleted, Marlon.”
