Page 154 of Executing Malice
With a final kiss to the tip of his nose, I hurry to let my mom in.
She and Dad raced home months ago after I sent them a text letting them know I was getting married. Both had been concerned and excited that I actually found someone, never mind hurrying to get married. Of course, their assumption that I was pregnant was correct. In a town like Jefferson where unplanned pregnancies are the epitome of bad upbringing and loose morals, neither had tried to talk me out of the decision to marry Dante.
Who my dad adores.
The two hit it off as if they were long lost brothers. I have never seen my gruff, no-nonsense father look at anyone with such excitement. Not even me.
Joy Weir beams at me from the front porch. Evan Weir right over her shoulder. The pair always reminds me of a typical couple in an eighties’ sitcom. Joy with her bleach blonde bob sheered to just beneath her earlobes and sparkling blue eyes is the ray of sunshine in the relationship, while Evan, with his hulking build, military cropped hair and ruler straight mustache is the surly one. Together, they are perfect.
I push open the screen door, letting in a gust of cool, May breeze.
“Morning!” I say.
The two shuffle into the foyer.
“Did we wake you?” Joy’s sweet smile slips into one of concern.
I snort. “That would imply that I sleep anymore.”
“The baby is a night owl.” Dante slips up behind me and eases his arms beneath my middle.
The slight elevation eases the weight pulling me forward and I relax against him.
“Oh, Reed was the same,” Joy mutters with a shake of her head. “He kicked me right to the end.”
“Don’t say that,” I whimper. “I need sleep.”
“Take naps in the day,” Evan prompts. “Joy used to take twenty minutes every few hours when the baby was quiet.”
I might have to try that,I think.
“You know, why don’t we stay in?” Joy offers. “You take a nap. I think Evan wanted to take a look at your roof. Dante can help him. And I’ll just keep myself busy.”
Mom’s version ofbusyis cleaning and cooking. The last time she kept busy, she prepped three weeks’ worth of meals for which I was eternally grateful.
“I actually wanted to show you the basement,” Dante pipes in, excitement bubbling over.
Dad’s eyes widen like a little kid being told to come see a new toy. “Did you set it up?”
“It’s so much better than we planned!”
The two are practically vibrating as they abandon us in the hallway and hurry towards the back of the house.
Mom and I exchanged amused glances.
“It’s officially a man cave,” I tell her. “I can’t get down those stairs, and Dante would kill me if I tried.”
Chuckling, Mom slips her hand through the crook of my elbow and gingerly turns me in the direction of the stairs.
“Let’s get you back into bed.”
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I wake to a murky darkness.
The house is still around me, but my body is on fire. My core throbs as it’s lapped at lazily by a diligent tongue.
