Page 46 of My Lord
“No?”
“No.”
“Well, let me teach you becauseI’msure not doing it every time we eat,” she said and proceeded to show me how to stack the dishwasher properly…or at least to her exacting standards.
“Not rocket science,” I said, watching where to put the cleaner and which programme to select.
“Would you like another glass of wine?” she asked. I nodded. She grabbed the bottle and I took the two glasses from the counter. I followed her to a living room.
“This feels strange,” I said, sitting on the sofa.
“I know, but it’s a nice strange, isn’t it?” she answered.
“Have you lived with anyone before? Not that we’re living together, but you know what I mean?” I stumbled through my question.
“No, not really. You?”
“No, never. I like my own space sometimes,” I said, and yet again wanted to curse myself at her crestfallen face. “That was, until now,” I added.
“Do you want to watch the television?” she asked.
There was awkwardness that we hadn’t experienced in my apartment. “No, do you?” I responded.
She shook her head. “Good Lord listen to us. You’d think we were teenagers on a first date.” Her gentle laughter caused my heart to miss a beat.
“Tell me something about you that no one knows,” I asked.
She frowned, thought for a moment, and then sighed. “I think Mackenzie knows pretty much everything about me. Let me think,” she said. She pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling. “I know! When I was little, I found a dead frog and I thought if I kissed it, it would come back to life. Not necessarily turn into a prince, just come alive again as if I was the princess.” Her smile was broad at the memory.
“Did it?”
“No, but I had a nasty infection on my face. I was left with scarring which, luckily, has faded over time. Can you see?” She shuffled closer and pointed to some very faint lighter skin above her upper lip.
I ran my finger over the scar, and she kissed my fingertip. “Now you,” she said, settling back next to me.
“When I was a child, I had an imaginary friend. I was homeschooled by a tutor and I was an only child. I hated every minute of it. I was terribly lonely. Anyway, my imaginary friend, Eric, used to do really naughty stuff.”
She giggled. “Eric? And what naughty stuff?” she asked.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Well, one day he hid a dead fish in his tutor’s curtains. For days her rooms stank, and no one could find out why. My father was convinced that she was up to no good, although I have no idea why, and he fired her. I felt awful,reallybad, but I was too scared to confess by then. Eventually, the cook found the fish, she didn’t tell my dad, but she slapped my head with it!”
“Urgh, how yukky,” Gabriella said, laughing.
“Yeah, it was pretty decomposed by then, it splattered in my hair. I voluntarily bathed that day.”
“So, I kissed a dead frog and you got slapped by a dead fish. How bizarre that we both chose cold-blooded, dead creatures,” she said, still laughing.
“I guess we’re more alike than we care to admit,” I said.
She looked up at me and smiled. “You make me feel secure,” she whispered.
“I’m glad that I do.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping on our wine and watching the sun set through the windows. When the room darkened significantly, she rose and placed both our glasses on a sideboard.
She returned, straddled my lap and ran her fingers through my hair. “I like you with longer hair,” she whispered. “You’re theanti-Lordwhen you look like this,” she said.
I laughed. “Anti-Lord?”
