Her happiness is contagious, but I don’t want to get distracted from the reason she was out with my now-ex-wife in the first place.
“What else did you learn today, my prima?”
“Willa told the lawyer you’re an asshole.”
“You knew that. What did you learn?”
She smirks, and I let her run her fingers through my hair.
“When someone stops short in front of you, you say, ‘You want a Honda up your ass?’ provided you’re driving a Honda, which we weren’t.”
I lean back. Fucking Willa.
“If someone cuts you off and you see them at the light,” she continues, “you roll down your window and say—very nicely—‘Today you fucked around and next time you’re gonna find out.’ When the car in front doesn’t go for a green light, you gently tap the horn and say, ‘That’s the only shade of green it comes in.’ Asshole can be tacked onto the end of any of those. Or fucknut.”
“Anything else?”
“If you want to cuss at a woman, you call her a sweaty dickbag, and if it’s a man, you call him a dirty whore. This confuses them long enough to run away. Tomorrow, we’re going to try them out.”
“No, you are not.”
She bursts out laughing.
“You should have seen your face,” she says between breaths. “It was…” She tries to make an angry, kill-to-the-death expression, but it’s impossible when she’s laughing. “Very Dario face.”
“I do not look like that.”
“All the time. You’re a serious man who makes a serious face.”
I lift her shirt. “You should see what it looks like when I’m licking your pussy.”
“Is it serious like this?”
She’s probably trying to make a face, but I can’t see it while I’m kissing her breasts and belly.
“Maybe.” I lift her skirt, then look at her. “Or maybe I’m smiling.”
I kiss the insides of her thighs and lick her pussy until she comes so hard, all I can do is grin.
When the sun is up, I’m already awake to meet it. I can’t remember a time when I slept more than a couple of hours. I work out until I ache. I think. I focus. I plan.
But ever since Sarah gave the last part of her body to me, I’ve been distracted.
I own her fully, but I haven’t given her all of myself.
Offering to go to St. Easy with her isn’t enough. Asking her to marry me isn’t enough. Buying the ring isn’t enough. Nothing I ever do might ever be enough, but I’m holding back, and I know it.
I just don’t know how to close that gap.
So, I’ll try this morning, and tomorrow, and the next day. I’ll find where I can do better for her and do it.
Today, with the engagement ring in my pocket, I make her breakfast. Pancakes, the way my mother used to make them for us. Huge and fat and soaked in syrup. I set the table with the fork on the left. I remember which chair she sits in when she’s not told where to sit, then I move it because she’s learning to do different things.
I stand over the table, wondering if she wants to sit in my seat, facing the back garden. It’s the best view.
Yes. That’s the way to go. I’ll ask her to marry me right here. I’ll ask like I mean it this time—with a ring. Maybe on one knee.
When she comes downstairs, I’m in the middle of moving her fork.
“What are you doing?” Her hair is nested in morning knots and her white silk robe is cinched crooked at the waist, allowing one side of the neck to droop and expose the shadow of a breast. Her bare feet flatten against the kitchen floor, one long toe set at a hard bend. She’s gorgeous and perfect.
“Making you breakfast.” I set down the fork.
“Why?”
I could let that robe slip off her shoulders, or I could rip it away and tie her legs open with the belt. Bite that little curve of tit or kiss it. Scream or moan. Cry or weep.
“Because people need to eat. Are you not people?”
Her brow screws tight. “If you need me to get up earlier, I can make it for you.”
Taking her face in my hands, I kiss the beautiful line of dry, chapped skin on her lips.
I’ll give her this ring and beg for her hand after I make her beg for my cock.
“Since I’m up early, I can make it for you.”
Her stomach grumbles in agreement. I guide her to her seat and hold out the chair at my place for her. She hesitates, but when I nod, she sits where I tell her.
I get the pancakes from the warming oven. As I pour the syrup, I check on her. She’s looking out the window, sun on her face. She likes the view of the garden. Good. That’s her seat now.
When breakfast is out, I sit diagonally from her so I don’t block her view.
Her hands stay in her lap. She’s not going to pick up her fork until I pick up mine.
Fine.
I pick up her fork and cut her a piece of pancake.
“Open your mouth,” I say, holding up the fork. “Just pancakes. I’m not going to sneak my dick in there.”
She smiles before she opens up.
“Good girl.”
“Oh, this is delicious.” She chews around the words.
“I’m glad you like it.” I hand her the fork, handle-first. “Eat.”
“You don’t have to do all this, you know.” She takes the fork and uses it.
She’s right in that no one’s forcing me to do anything, but she’s wrong in that I don’t have to do it. I do.
“What are you doing with Willa today?” I ask.
“The subway.”
“What time is she coming?”
“Um…” She turns my wrist to look at my watch. “About an hour. I better hurry.”
“Finish. She can wait.”
“Mm-hm.” She agrees with a full mouth, ready to finish by hurrying. Obey me and be punctual for Willa at the same time. Always out to please everyone. She catches me staring. “What?”
My heart makes a decision on the answer before asking my defenses. “I haven’t been the kind of man you deserve.”
“Shush.” She puts her fingers over my lips. “Before you say something I have to agree with.”
I kiss her fingertips and return them to her so she can eat. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You’ve been terrible, Dario.” She barely pauses her meal as she speaks. “You took me and locked me away. You’ve humiliated me, hurt me, and treated me like a slave. But the worst thing you’ve done to me is made me believe you’re not a monster.”
How have I not noticed how quickly and efficiently she eats? Her meals had to be wolfed down between chores. Of course, she never got to take her time and enjoy her food.
“What if I am?”
“No. You’re not. You tell yourself that so you can do things like kidnap me. But—” She swallows. “After Denise, I feel like I’m involved. Anything that happens to anyone is my fault.”
“No, Sarah.”
“Yes.” She puts down her fork. “Everything that you do, I’ve made happen.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Make a promise. I know there will be consequences, but… no more hurting anyone. No more killing. End this war without blood.”