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“I really do. And if you take the time, maybe stop being a miserable, snarky shrew to him on even days, then maybe you might find he’ll be the same thing for you.”
Angela rubbed the almost-faded bruise on her neck. The collar of her shirt concealed it enough now that it was almost gone. Roman had been correct when he said her body wanted one thing and her mind another. But what he didn’t know was her heart was becoming more and more aligned with her body, and that was where her main resistance was coming from. She knew it was true; Roman was, in fact, a good man. And more than that—he was the man for her.
The knowledge absolutely terrified her.
“Well, Dr. Angel,” Morrigan said, breaking the comfortable silence that had formed between them. “Now that I don’t feel like slitting your throat anymore, how about another drink?”
Angela looked down, shocked to discover she had polished off the entire glass of her second scotch. She ignored the throat-slitting remark, holding up her glass. “Why the hell not?”
* * *
“So, Doc. Tell me why you don’t do commitments,” Morrigan bade her about two hours later.
“Because people always let you down,” Angela replied quickly, letting out a small burp. She was shocked to find herself having a great time with Morrigan. They were both on the same side of the bar now, with Angela having moved her stool so she had easier access to the alcohol.
Morrigan nodded, pouring them another glass of scotch. Some spilled over the edges, but neither woman cared. “I hear that, sister. People are fuckers.”
Angela nodded, feeling her head spin a little. “People are fuckers,” she agreed.
“I mean. They say they’re going to be there. And you come to like it—rely on it even,” Morrigan said, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “But then, do you know what they do?”
Angela wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or not, but she answered anyway. “They fuck you. And not in the fun way.”
“Exactly!” Liquid sloshed out of Morrigan’s glass when she swung it around before taking a healthy swallow. “You get used to them being there, then you wake up one morning, and the next thing you know, they’re gone.”
Angela nodded somberly. “Just like the center of a donut.”
“Yes!” Morrigan shouted, holding out her fist for a bump. “Gone, just like the center of a donut.” She paused for a moment, her gaze distant, before she remarked, “What’s with that? What’s with the hole?”
“I have no idea. It’s such a waste,” Angela replied.
“It really is. Donuts are delicious. Why would someone deliberately poke a hole in the middle of such deliciousness? And then throw it away? Like trash?” Morrigan questioned, her eyes turning misty.
Angela’s throat constricted with emotion. She knew what it was like to feel like trash. “Those poor donuts.”
“We should rescue them,” Morrigan declared, leaning in close.
Angela perked up. She sat up straighter, slipping from the stool and finding herself on the floor. She made no attempt to get back up. “Rescue the donuts?”
Morrigan stood up before crossing her feet and sinking to the floor next to Angela. She nodded vigorously. “Yes. We should rescue the donuts. We could do it. I’m sure we could. I have weapons. Like, soooo many weapons.”
“You’re awesome,” Angela told her new friend. “Weapons are awesome.”
“So awesome!” Morrigan agreed.
“You know, I keep a gun in my kitchen drawer.” Angela puffed up her chest proudly. “Pretty badass, huh?”
“Totally,” Morrigan agreed. “I bet you’d be good at slicing people up too.”
“Oh, abso-fucking-lutely. I can slice and dice the bestest,” Angela promised.
“I just sliced a guy last night,” Morrigan revealed, listing to the left a little. “He was a real swine’s butthole. Smacked my ass as I was walking past. So I cut his palm up. He won’t be slapping any more asses for a while.” She smiled, whispering, “I predict twenty stitches.”
Angela offered her a high-five. Both women missed. “Sometimes, men need to be punished,” Angela agreed wholeheartedly. “There was this one guy, Anthony, he tried to launch a sneak attack in the back door.”
Morrigan gasped. “He didn’t!”
Angela nodded seriously. “He did.”
