Page 113 of The Woman in the Hollow
“It’s a deal,” he agreed. “How’s that shit going?”
“’That shit’ being my relationship with Hazel.”
“Yeah, that.”
“It’s good.” I was playing it down. It was the best fucking time I’d had in my life. However well-suited I thought we’d been from gut feeling alone, each day with her only further backed that up.
We liked doing the same things, thought the same way, had similar ideas for the future.
And that shit where she got possessive of me around other women?
Hot as fuck.
We’d been at the grocery store the night before. She’d walked away to grab the garlic we forgot. When she came back, a woman was genuinely just asking me what I thought of the brand of pasta I was buying. She had a ring on her finger and everything. But Hazel had walked up and plastered herself to me, her hand rubbing up and down my stomach and chest.
I wanted to bend her over the cart and fuck her right there.
“This is the longest you’ve been away from her, isn’t it?” he asked. “Three hours,” he said, checking the time on the tablet.
Three hours and thirty-seven minutes. But who was counting?
I wanted to tell myself that I was just a little worried about her safety when she was away from me. But I genuinely just… missed her.
As if I’d conjured her, the door to Famiglia flew open and there she was.
She’d clearly raided her closet back at home for the first time, dressed in a pair of deep green corduroy pants and a Santa Claus sweater.
The garden center had the garden center transitioned from Halloween to general fall as we waited for all of our winter wonderland decor to show up. But Hazel was already fully into Christmas mode.
The dining room table had become a craft zone for her as she strung lights, ornaments, and bows from long, thick strands of garland. She planned to drape them down the banisters, around the doorways, and on the mantle.
She’d also planned a special night for the whole family where she was going to cook dinner, then we were all going to paint Christmas ornaments together.
My mom was over the fucking moon with how quickly Hazel had settled into my place and how she was already making plans to host everyone.
“Is it just me or is she… stomping?” Dom asked as she made her way over.
When she stopped beside the table, her eyes were narrowed.
Someone was in the shithouse.
“What the hell were you doing in my apartment?” she snapped, glaring at Dom.
Uh-oh.
“Who said I was in your place?” Dom asked, not exactly lying, but not telling her the truth either.
“The protein bar wrapper in my bedroom garbage.”
“Think we can rule out a future for you in espionage,” I said to him.
“And you,” she said, turning to me, her arms crossing.
“Somebody’s in trouble,” Dom said in a singsong voice.
“I’ll get back to you,” Hazel said, gaze cutting his way.
Dom had the good sense to look a little concerned.
