Page 30 of A Very Killer Christmas
I don’t sit down. Gratitude wells within me, but even stronger is confusion. I have an urge to understand why he did all this, because it doesn’t make sense.
No one has ever done anything like this for me. No one.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, grabbing his arms so he has to face me. “Tell me! I have to know.”
He grows serious, dark eyes searching my face until he finally nods.
“Because you said you wanted it.”
I shake my head, growing angry and frustrated, because it can’t bethat.That’s not a good reason.
“People never do things just because I want them,” I say, and it sounds like an accusation. I think he’s lying, maybe trying to trick me somehow. And yet, is it a lie? I don’t know. This whole thing is impossible and crazy.
“I do,” Rowley says, voice low and calm where I’m growing shrill. “And I will keep doing things just because you want them. Don’t you see? I’m staying, Prudy. I’m yours. And I’ll do what I can to make you happy. The happiest.”
I shake my head in helpless disbelief. He sighs heavily and takes my hand, playing with my fingers.
“Is it the soulmates thing?” I ask, eyes narrowed. “You really believe that?”
He smiles, a bit sad, very much understanding, and confusing beyond measure.
“I do. You’re mine. Mine to take care of, mine to please, mine to love. Mine to heal, maybe. Mine to show how beautiful and important you are.”
“Love,” I echo, my voice hollow. “You can’t love me.”
“No?” His eyes sparkle with something secret and knowing, something I don’t understand. “Tell you what, sweetheart. Let’s take it one day at a time, okay? Just let me be around, let me cook you food, make you come, and give you what you want and need. And you’ll tell me again in a month if I can love you or not.”
I shake my head. “That’s crazy.”
But he only shrugs. “Then let’s be crazy. I was thinking scrambled eggs for breakfast, since eggs are the only ediblething in your fridge. You also have half an onion that’s only a little wilted, so I’ll use that. Do you drink coffee or tea with breakfast?”
I shake myself off, the insane conversation thankfully over. “Ah, tea. I don’t drink coffee. And I can make breakfast. You made food yesterday.”
In a manner both quick and confusing, Rowley has me deposited in a chair, a blanket around my shoulders, as he bustles around the kitchen. I watch him with an idle sort of curiosity, thinking that I should do something, maybe throw him out of the house. Or call the police, right? I still can. I probably should.
He’s a killer, after all.
But soon, I get my tea, sweetened with one teaspoon of honey just as I like it, and then there’s a steaming plate of well seasoned eggs in front of me, and Rowley makes a joke about the police having a shitty Christmas Eve because of him, and somehow, I don’t do anything.
And later, when he orders me to the couch, and we cuddle and watch a silly Christmas comedy, I still do nothing. I most decidedly don’t stop him when he pauses the movie and kisses my neck, and then, after we lie on the carpet in front of the TV, both glowing and sated, I don’t even consider telling him to leave, because it would be rude.
Later, when he covers my eyes and pulls me upstairs, telling me to look up when we reach the right place, there is the mistletoe hanging over our heads. He kisses me silly right there, tellingme I’m beautiful and grabbing handfuls of my breasts until I’m hot and needy, and he fucks me against the doorway. We do it standing under the mistletoe, and he whistles a carol afterward, pleased like a cat that got to the cream.
Christmas ends with us in bed together, both showered, lying in fresh sheets he changed for us, and then night falls and when I wake, it’s a new day.
He makes pancakes for breakfast. And I still don’t tell him to leave, even though Christmas is over.
Chapter 14
Rowley
One Month Later
“I’m late,” Prudy says, worrying her lip. “Ten days. I think it’s serious.”
I swallow down the shout of euphoria that pushes up my throat and go into the bathroom, where I keep the pregnancy tests I bought for her.
Prudy hates going outside. The experience with her grandfather’s death deeply traumatized her, and she lives in terror of something horrible happening again if she goes out of the house. She’s in therapy, and we do small steps to help her process that fear, but for now, I still do most of our shopping.
