Page 16 of Slayer Mom
After staying up all night, worrying that zombies would get my husband in our bedroom while coming after me in the closet, I’d moved into the guest bedroom on the bottom floor. Not the most secure, but it was better for Hazen. He’d suggested marriage counselling several times—which was an absolute no, and bought me presents—none of which were weapons.In other words, our marriage was slowly shriveling and drying up. Like a zombie.
It wasn’t that bad. When he came home, he’d play whatever sport with me, far enough away that he wasn’t in danger of nutmeg contagion. If we smashed something playing tennis in the hall, what did it matter? It was just an empty house, meaningless without the boys. Hazen brought dinner, because I’d stopped cooking. He brought the dry cleaning, because I’d stopped running errands. He could hire a housekeeper and replace me completely, but he just stepped up and filled in where I’d been falling short, like the capable man he was.
And so handsome. I daydreamed for a moment of running my hands through his hair while he held me close and kissed my neck and shoulder, but then my coffee maker beeped, and it was time to get my pumpkin pie decaf latte.
I’d bought a very expensive coffee maker, actually a few of them that did different things, but I wasn’t interested in experimenting and exploring their full potential. I could have just gone with a pan of almond milk heated up with cinnamon and nutmeg with a dash of allspice, but that would be too suspicious.
I poured my drink into the biggest mug I had and carried it back into the hall. I had seven hundred more tennis swings to take.
“I’m home,” Hazen called an hour later. He came in, carrying groceries and a pumpkin spice chai that he somehow kept balanced. “Tennis today?” he asked as he passed me going towards the kitchen.
I followed him, wishing I could get closer and wrap my arms around him. I was so lonely, so starved for physical affection. And so bored.
“I guess. How was work? You haven’t come home late all week.”
“Do you miss me coming home late so you canhave wild adventures losing your underwear without me noticing?” He raised a dark brow and then bent to put away a loaf of bread. He was so handsome. So absolutely gorgeous. It made me want to hit him with my tennis racket if I couldn’t touch him.
“Maybe I should get a cat.”
“Aren’t you allergic?”
“So?”
He shrugged and put away the ketchup. “If you don’t mind, I don’t mind, although don’t you kind of dislike cats?”
“But you don’t need to walk them, and you can hold them, and kittens are cute.”
“If you’re looking for something to hold,” he said, stretching out his arms and then pouncing on me. He didn’t actually touch me, just pinned me against the counter while he gazed into my eyes with his brooding, brown, sensual stare.
I stared back and was lost in that gaze. He slowly lowered his head and brushed my lips with his. Electricity swept through me and I swayed towards him, resting my fingers on his strong chest while my eyes drifted closed and I raised my head to be thoroughly kissed.
At the last moment, I ducked under his arm and grabbed the chai, heading towards the garage.
“Where are you going?” he asked, half amused, half concerned.
“To buy a cat.”
No, I was going to park down by the river drinking my chai then I’d call Tom on the temporary phone I’d bought at the corner store, so that’s what I did. I was still dressed in sweats, and looked as unattractive as it was possible for me to be. Also, no bra.
“The Hounds Theater,” he answered in his dry, bored voice.
“This is Lucy,” I whispered.
“How are things? Any signs of zombies?”
“No, but I’m going crazy. How long will the nutmeg thing last? I can’t keep living like this.”
“It’s only been a week,” he said. “You’d have to give it at least a year.”
A year without touching my husband? Impossible! “How many zombies are in the city?”
“I haven’t counted them for some time.” Was he mocking me?
“Maybe we should count them.” My heart pounded at the thought of facing another zombie, but it would be better than spending the next year locked in my house while my husband watched me go insane. If there were only a dozen or so zombies, we could kill them, and then I could touch my husband without worrying about him being attacked. That made sense. Maybe. I was too spiced up to know for sure.
“You want to go zombie hunting?” He sounded absolutely delighted at the prospect.
I swallowed hard then nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I want to go zombie hunting. You said it would be easy, that we’d find slow and mostly deteriorated ones to kill first, right?”
