Page 129 of Massacre Monday
“Where?”
Ryan sighs and puts his phone down, then side-eyes me. “President Harvey’s office.”
“Interesting…”
He huffs a humorless laugh. “Yeah, very.”
“What does it mean?”
He pauses for a long while. “I don’t know.”
The pieces don’t fit yet. Not fully. And maybe I don’t want them to. My brain aches from trying to solve what I don’t understand. Some horrors are best left for another day of the week.
“Well, there’s always our beach neighborhood.”
Ryan grabs my waist with a playful growl and flips me so that my back is to his front. “Yep. But you’re safe in my arms, Pen. Always. I love you.”
The tight grip he has on my body makes me feel the most secure, and a smile paints my lips. I never want to leave this space. “I love you, too.”
As I fall asleep, he murmurs, “Tomorrow, I’m buying you an island.”
forty-two
XAVIER
“They’re here!”
Sunday dinners are important, especially now that we’re adding another family member. Pippi Freidenberg is a much better match for my son, and I’m happy he got it arranged with the president. Not only did he get the woman he wants, but he also earned her the way a man should.
With blood sacrifice and locking her up so she never leaves him. Maybe she’s already pregnant. That’s the best way to tie her down.
If only Marissa would let us try one more time…
“Whatever that look is, wipe it off your face,” she says, flicking a page of her magazine as I rub her feet on the sofa.
“Just hoping they eat fast and leave.”
Her jaw drops in a mock gasp. “You love your children, stop it.”
“So much, I’m thinking we should make another one.”
“Xavier… I’m too old. And so are you.”
“Women have babies in their forties all the time.”
She laughs. “No, they don’t. And this woman won’t.”
“I was enough. Right, Mom?” Alice crawls into her lap like she’s a little girl again, but I reach over and snag her to sit with me.
“You are enough. All of you are.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, I snap my fingers. “Now leave your mom and me alone and set the table. Where’re your brothers?”
“They went outside to show Pippi around,” she says, getting off the couch.
“Well, they need to help Olivia.”
“I’ve got it. I’m fine,” our oldest daughter says from the kitchen.
“Take your time,” I tell her, letting my eyes scan up my wife’s legs. Maybe just five minutes in the bathroom, we could sneak one in.
