Page 301 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
I try to look away from the intense stare Ambrose gives me as he looks over Shane’s shoulder and delivers that two-meaning statement.
It’s a struggle.
Because all I want is his arms closing tightly around me, telling me everything will be okay.
And all I see in his eyes are promises that it really will be.
“Shane,” I stutter. “Why don’t you go and wait in my room. I’ll explain to Ambrose that we were thinking of cleaning and how we misunderstood each other.”
Shane doesn’t step in and take any blame, just accepts my lie, and has a jibe on his way out.
“Will you be okay here with him?” he asks, freezing in the doorway.
“Of course, she will.” Ambrose answers on my behalf. “Now, do as she asks and get the fuck out of our parents’ room. And don’t touch any of their stuff on the way out, if you want to be able to use your hands tomorrow,” Ambrose rasps.
“Sure, man. We were just trying to clean up everywhere. No harm done. I’ll meet you in our room, Dollie? We can have a cuddly movie night? Rom com? To say I’m sorry for upsetting you?”
“Okay,” I answer, just to get rid of him.
Ambrose’s eyes roll and are still rolling when I meet his gaze. When Shane is out of hearing distance, he snorts. “Movie night sounds cozy. Rom-coms and cuddles.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t wonder why he’s here? Or what he’s done to make you cry? I know you’re lying for him.”
I don’t answer Ambrose.
“Dollie, talk to me or I’m gonna go in your room and ask him, and if he lies to me?—”
“I don’t want you fighting. How are you even home? I thought you were working a double shift.”
“I have another four hours. I took a lunch break to check on you.”
“Because you knew he was here?”
“Does that make me an asshole?” Ambrose’s voice breaks on the last word.
He looks to the bed before deeming it clean enough to sit on.
“No, but just so you can stop wondering, I’m not in the mood for cuddles. I plan on talking to him, but I can’t tonight.” I neatly fold some of Dad’s ties.
“Because you’re afraid to?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t need to. I know you well enough to know that the condescending tone of his voice will keep you in line.”
“He hasn’t been violent tonight.” Yet.
“Dollie, if he does?—”
“It won’t come to that tonight.”
“But you’re waiting until tomorrow to talk to him?”
“Yes.”
“About what? The letter?” That question has Ambrose needing to clear his throat.
