Page 17 of Come Back To Me
He nods, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “I am him, and I’m also not. But you already knew that. You conjured the spell.”
He’s right, but I was still expecting more him, I guess. You know . . . minus the eating people. An innocent man’s life was taken and he’s so damn nonchalant about it.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Will it always be like this?” My words come out thick.
“Like what?” He scoots closer to the edge of his chair. “Didn’t you want this back? Us eating breakfast together again? Me moving around you in the kitchen and filling the cold empty space in the bed I left behind?”
“Yes.”
“You have that, don’t you? Maybe things aren’t exactly how they were before, but how can they be with someone who’s supposed to be dead?”
He’s right. I know he is. But it’s also not every day you walk down to your basement to find your husband eating the mailman. “Okay, but we should have some sort of ground rules.”
“Ground rules? Such as?”
“You not eating any more people who come to the house.”
“What about when I get hungry?”
“This wasn’t in the book.”
“No . . . I’m sure there’s a lot of details that were left out. Not everyone has the same experience, I’m sure.” He pushes his plate toward mine.
“Do you have to be a cannibal?”
He laughs and then mutters something to himself, hitting at the side of his head. “To keep up with the appearances of the living, I have to eat flesh. It’s what keeps me from decomposing. It’s more effective when I take my first few bites while they’re alive too. It means I can go longer without needing to feed the hunger again.”
“Gareth would never say all this to me so casually.”
“Yeah, Gareth was perfect, I get it. But this is the only way you get to have him back in your life. I have his memories, his experiences, his feelings and—” He brings his fist to his head again. “And a lot of his thoughts.”
“What kind of thoughts?”
“Mostly confused and worried. He doesn’t like what we did last night.”
I want to say I didn’t either, but I wouldn’t completely be telling the truth. Instead, I turn my nose up and say, “Yeah. That can’t happen again. Not like that.”
“This one of your rules?” He cocks his head.
“Yes.”
Running his fingers over his chin, he lets out a drawn-out sigh. “I won’t agree to it.”
My mouth falls open. “You won’t agree to me consenting first?”
“No. It goes against what was promised to me.”
“There are stipulations?” My voice sounds small.
“Not in this situation. Whatever you promise, you must fulfill. You said I could have whatever I wanted. That I could have all of you. So I will, whenever and however I decide to.”
“That . . . I won’t accept that.”
“It’s too late for that. Normally, I wouldn’t waste my time with humans this long, but the more he talks about you and thinks of past moments you shared, the more enticed I become. The more of you I have to have. And like I said before, I’ll have you whenever the hell I want to.”
Hell. That’s what I’m in right now. He’s my punishment for going against nature. But whenever he’s quiet, lifting his cup to his lips, I’m able to lean into the fantasy I dreamt of before he came. Gareth is home. He’s having coffee in front of me and will . . . normally he went to work and came home a little after six.
