Page 28 of Haunted Nights & Savage Sins
I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother me, but I can’t stop myself from looking around corners, wondering if she’s there. I can’t stop peering into the shadows, hoping that instead of the same old ghosts that haunt me it’s her walking toward me with her sassy mouth.
Now, instead of listening to the wind or the crackling of the fire, I find myself trying to listen out for her. To maybe accidentally bump into her in the halls.
So far it hasn’t happened, and I’m getting tired of waiting.
I could order her to come out and spend time with me. That’s what my father would do, but I don’t want to be my father. I don’t want her to only be spending time with me simply because she’s ordered to.
But trying to fix my mistake isn’t something I know how to do. I’ve never been near anyone long enough to want to smooth anything over.
My brothers and I have had squabbles, but we were too busy fighting for our lives to stay mad at each other for too long. I’m sure if I leave it up to Brenna she’ll hold on to this grudge for as long as she can.
I pull out my phone and start aimlessly scrolling on the news sites and other social media. I don’t have a presence there myself, but I like to look at other people and what they are doing. It at least lets me keep a small grip on reality.
As I scroll through the happy photos of people I don’t know, I see one thing in common. Food. There are food pictures everywhere.
Brenna has to eat, right? I mean, it’s a basic function of nature. And I did promise myself that I would do a better job of trying to take care of her needs.
I can start with this one. There’s no way that I’m going to try and make her a big dinner. My culinary skill is limited to a few pasta dishes and grilled chicken. In fact, I usually have grilled chicken through the week and then whatever frozen dinners I have inthe freezer for lunch. I don’t need much to survive, but maybe Brenna would appreciate something different.
I swipe out of the social media app and pull up the DoorDash app. I’ve used it a few times, mainly because they have a no-contact option where the delivery people will leave the food at the gate. I don’t have to look at them and they don’t have to look at me.
Still, I’ve only used it for simple things like a pizza or Chinese food. I’ve used it maybe three times in the few years that I’ve had it. This is about to be the biggest order that I’ve placed on it. I hope it all goes off without a problem.
I scan the options, and it dawns on me that I have no idea what kind of food Brenna would like. I don’t know if she’s allergic to anything. I’ve come to depend on her presence, but she’s truly nothing more than a stranger living in my house. As her husband, I guess I should change that.
I settle on an Italian place. I order some pastas, fried meats, salads, fruit. Pretty much one of everything they have to order. By the time I’m finished the bill is extensive, and the restaurant actually calls me to confirm I meant to place the order.
I’m nervous as I wait for the food to come. Not because I don’t think they’ll get the order right, but because Brenna could deny me. I could be left on my own to try and eat all this food.
An hour later, the food is dropped off at the gate. A picture is sent to my phone with a plethora of bags all left on the floor. I pick up the in-house line and call Maxim.
“I need you and maybe one other guard to bring the food that was just delivered into the house.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. Should we check the bags for any threats?”
I scoff at his train of thought. If there’s going to be an assassination attempt made on my life, I doubt they are going to go through DoorDash to do it.
“No, it’s fine. Just bring it inside.”
“Right away.”
Pulling my hand up, I run my palm over my face, trying to gear myself up for what is about to happen. My beard is still unruly.
I look down at what I’m wearing and realize that though I may be comfortable, I’m not exactly impressive.
Frustration begins to build inside of me when I realize just how much I want to make a good impression on Brenna. It’s childish, but I do what I have to do nonetheless. Rushing to the bathroom, I grab my trimmer and cut down my beard until it’s neat. I can’t really tell if I’ve done a good job. There are no mirrors in the bathroom. I took them out years ago. I’ll do whatever I have to in order to forgo looking at my face.
I hope everything is even.
After I finish with my beard, I work on my hair and face some of the same problems, because without a mirror I can’t really see what I’m doing. Once I’ve cut off enough, I jump into the shower and change my clothes. Now that I’m presentable, I go to the kitchen and work on getting the food ready to be served.
I have to reach up into the top cabinets to pull out dinnerware that I never use. In fact, one of the platters hasn’t seen the light of day since before my mother died.
I’m pulling out all the stops for Brenna, and she doesn’t even know it yet.
When the food is all on display, my nerves start to get the better of me. It’s a strange feeling.
All she can do is say no, right. It’ll be a hit to my ego, but I won’t force her to come eat with me. I don’t deserve her forgiveness, even if she doesn’t know I’m nearly crawling out of my skin trying to get it.
