I rolled my eyes. "I literally saw three cars full of guards parked outside, Anthony."
He ignored me. "Anyway...something tells me that you could be completely honest with your grandmother and she’d still love you, gory details and all."
"I just don’t want to scare her."
"Then don’t. Be honest, with flare." He waved his hand to accentuate the point.
"Can you give me an example?"
"Instead of saying your boyfriend is in the Mafia, say he’s an entrepreneur," he said, eyebrows raised. "Eh? It works, right?"
"Right," I replied, unconvinced.
"Instead of saying you work at a sex club, say you’re a hostess at a nightclub that specializes in evening entertainment."
I was not going to do that, but I was enjoying his spin on things regardless.
"Instead of saying my best friend tried to kill me?" I asked, my tone bitter.
Anthony let out a low sigh. "Say your best friend felt so trapped in her circumstances that she did something horrible to escape." Anthony had a faraway look in his eyes. We’d talked some about Vicky since the explosion, but he didn’t want to open up. Like me, he missed his sister but felt conflicted about it. "And instead of saying you’re dating a fucked up man who talks to the dead and has debilitating nightmares…" His voice turned haunted.
I threaded my hands through his, then finished his statement. "I’m dating a man who can make me smile no matter the situation. Someone who is thoughtful, kind, selfless, and strong. I’m in love with someone who makes me very happy, despite all the crazy shit happening."
Anthony shifted, then sat up. "I don’t want to mess this up. I’m not always"—he paused to tap his temple—"here, you know?"
I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my heart. "You’re always here, though," I whispered. His eyes watered for a moment, and I felt like this was a defining moment for us. Time slowed, my pulse roared in my ears.
I cared for Anthony and loved every version of him. "So let me get this straight," he began. "I’m always...in your tit?" I looked down and realized that he was holding my tit with his massive hand. Pervert. I shoved his hand away and tackled him into the mattress with a giggle.
"We should probably fuck now, I mean we just shared a sentimental moment and everything," he teased while tugging at the hem of my faded shirt.
I swatted him away. "Grams is asleep in the next room," I argued.
"So?"
"So, this bed squeaks!"
"We can fuck on the floor, we’ve never done that before. Or in the closet. That sounds kind of kinky."
"It’s not happening, Anthony!" I replied before playfully shoving him.
Anthony grabbed my arms and eased me off of him. Then, he stood up and lifted me out of the bed. "I know what you’re thinking right now," he whispered while cradling me to his chest and sneaking me out of my bedroom. He padded down the hall and to the front door. The floorboards creaked, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Grams was going to wake up.
"Anthony!" I hissed.
"You’re thinking, damn, my boyfriend is strong. Well, let me tell you, that’s from all the dead bodies I bury. It should really be a workout regimen." Anthony carried me all the way to his BMW, unlocked the door, and tossed me in the backseat. "Back seat of my car is, in fact, on my sex bucket list," he said while rubbing his palms together and settling next to me.
"You have a list?" I asked.
He immediately started rattling off places, some of them so bizarre that I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. "Cemetery, funeral home, a crypt, a Catholic church, Area 51, Target dressing room, the park, a pond, the pool, the White House, a bounce house, a—"
I pressed my hand over his mouth and leaned in. "Can I kiss you, Anthony?" I asked.
He stared at my mouth for a long moment, and I moved my hand. "Can I have you forever, Killer?" he asked back softly.
I kissed him.
34
I woke up alone in my twin-sized bed but could hear Anthony laughing with Grams down the hall in the kitchen. The early morning sun was creeping through the cracks in my blinds, and my neck was sore from sleeping at a weird angle all night. Anthony took up the entire bed. If we were going to keep doing sleepovers, then I needed a full-sized mattress.
Grams laughed. "Are you making my granddaughter dick-shaped pancakes, Anthony?"
Of course he was. I shot out of bed and let out a huff. That definitely sounded like something he would do. "I've never made pancakes before, the possibilities are endless!"
After getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and throwing my messy brown hair up in a bun, I made my way to the kitchen and found both of them wearing aprons and flipping pancakes.
Bowls, flour, sugar, and other baking items were scattered over the countertops, and the roses Anthony got Grams last night were in a vase on our kitchen table. The room smelled like freshly brewed coffee and syrup. Grams and I loved to make breakfast together. It was one of our many little traditions.
"Good morning!" Anthony said while swaying from side to side. He looked happier than I'd seen him in days. Grams had that effect on people. He put one sassy hand on his hip and winked at me. "I’m making pancakes!"
"I see that," I replied.
Grams grabbed a handful of chocolate chips and tossed them in the batter. "Morning, baby," she said distractedly. My heart swelled at the sight of them together. It felt so normal. Like they’d been doing this for years.
"More chocolate?" Anthony asked before putting his hand to his chest in mock horror. "William hates sweets."
"Is William coming over?" I asked.
Grams looked over her shoulder at me and arched her brow. "And Nicholas. I thought it would be nice for all of us to eat together."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "So nosy," I hissed.
"I d-do my best," she teased back.
The doorbell rang, which put a halt to our familial banter. Grams and I hadn't had time to discuss my unique relationship status yet, but as usual, she was rolling with the punches. I should have known that she and Anthony would have coordinated a nice little breakfast for all of us. I just prayed that it wasn’t awkward.
"Go get the door, baby. I have to keep an eye on Anthony to make sure he doesn't burn another pancake," Grams said before swatting the top of his hand. "No more penises, Anthony, so help me!"
I watched them fuss for a few seconds before turning to answer the door. I wondered briefly if I needed to change clothes as I walked down the hall, but decided it didn’t need to be a formal event. I opened the door with a shy smile. William and Malice were standing on our porch, both wearing suits, both clutching bouquets of flowers, both looking handsome as hell.
"Fancy seeing you here," I said. William crossed the threshold to kiss me on the cheek. It was warm and pleasant. I wrapped my arms around him and nuzzled his neck. "I'm glad you're here."
William kissed the top of my head and pulled away. "I heard about the cat," he grumbled. "I told him not to."