Chapter 15 Are We Dead? #2
“You know, now that you mention it, before the game started, I saw a woman with pink hair in the stands watching me. And then, when she and I made eye contact, the arena felt colder for a minute.” He chuckles. “Theo thought I was nuts, but do you think that could’ve been her?”
My eyes narrow. “Yes, I think that’s exactly who that was.”
“And then after the game, one of the reporters had pink hair. Well, she was blonde, but she had pink strands in it.” He rolls his shoulder, and his eyes seem to drift off somewhere behind me.
“Did she say anything weird?” I ask.
“Who?” His eyes focus back on me.
“The pink-haired reporter?”
“Oh. She seemed to know about my shoulder, but I doubt that was magic.”
“Or it was,” I argue, crossing my arms.
“Okay, let’s assume that’s what happened,” he begins.
I nod.
“Why would this Stella woman curse us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she was bored.”
“Bored?” His head tilts to the side, and another chuckle escapes past his lips.
“I don’t know why witches do what they do.” My arms fly into the air, and I shift my weight. “I’m not a witch. But I know that women with pink hair seemed to be common last night, and Stella had pink hair. I don’t have any other leads.”
“This is ridiculous. Witches aren’t real.” He throws his head back, running his hands up his face and through his hair.
“You don’t know that.”
“I think I do. But I’ll keep playing along. So, what’s your game plan?”
“What’s my game plan?”
“Yes, how do you propose we find a witch?”
“I don’t know. What’s your game plan?”
He just stares at me, and I wish he would speak. I wish he would say something helpful, but he doesn’t.
“Great, so neither of us has a plan.”
As the reality of our situation begins to settle in, pressure builds behind my eyes. We don’t have a plan. We may never get back to New York. I might not get to dance on Christmas. I may never see my family again.
Tears break free and begin to run down my face. Wiping them away, I do my best to push the fear aside and formulate a coherent thought, but my mind is too muddled by my emotions, and all I can think about is how badly I wish I was home.
“I know this is strange, but we have to stay focused,” he says. “Crying about it isn’t going to get us home.”
“Crying about it isn’t going to get us home?” I scoff. “Forgive me for trying to process this incredibly insane situation we’re in.” I wipe my eyes with my fingers and turn to walk away.
“Wait, where are you going?” he asks, following me out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Unsurprisingly, everything is pink. A rose-colored couch covered in different pink-hued pillows is positioned across from a small brick fireplace that is painted white.
Snow flocked Christmas garland decorated with pink and silver ornaments hangs on the wooden mantle.
Two pink velvet stockings hang below. More faux memories of me with Everett are framed and sit on every flat surface.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think this bitch was taunting me.
Tall windows give a picturesque view of the snowy backyard. Evergreen trees tower over a small clearing where a hot tub and small fire pit are set up. Lights are strung above it all.
Moving across the space, I walk into the kitchen and begin opening the white cabinets.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I need coffee and maybe something to eat. I think we need to process what all this actually means. Try to dig deep. Figure out why she may have put us here.”
“Dig deep?”
“Yeah.” Grabbing a canister of coffee, I flip around to face him. “Like maybe I’m here because I clearly cannot make good decisions when it comes to my love life, and she’s trying to teach me a lesson.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I don’t think dating Raph and then jumping into bed with you literally while I ended things with him was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
He rubs his hand on the back of his neck and shakes his head.
“Is there something going on with you that could’ve been the reason she sent you here with me?” I ask.
The hand that was still resting on his neck drops to his side, and he moves his right shoulder again. “No, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” he says through a smile. “I woke up married to you.”
This fucking man. I set the coffee container on the counter, sighing heavily. “Actually, I changed my mind. I think I’m gonna go try to find a coffee shop.”
“Out there? You don’t think we should get a plan together before we go gallivanting off into the snow?”
“No, I’m not thinking clearly, and coffee will help me do that. I just need to get out of here and clear my head.”
“Well, then I’m coming with you.”
“You really don’t have to,” I snap, marching towards a door that looks like it might be some sort of coat closet. Swinging it open, I’m relieved to find that I was correct. I scan the coats, trying to decide which one to wear, but everything is—you guessed it—pink.
Everett walks up behind me, and we both reach into the closet at the same time, grabbing for the only black coat. Our hands collide against the fabric, and he lets out a low chuckle.
“This one is mine,” he says. “I think it’ll be a little big on you.”
“I know that,” I say through a clenched jaw, moving to the blush coat next to it.
“Trying to hold my hand then, Wifey?”
“No. No. No. No. No. We aren’t doing that.” I pull the coat from the closet and begin putting it on. “We aren’t really married. I’m reinstating the no nickname rule.”
Straightening the jacket, I move my hair from under the collar. I need to clear my mind, and being around him isn’t helping.
“But we were never good at following that one.” He smirks.
“Why don’t I run and find us a coffee, and you stay here and start working on your game plan,” I suggest, throwing air quotes around the final two words.
“I’m not going to let you go out there by yourself,” he says, batting his eyes at me. “What if this witch finds you and eats you?”
“We aren’t Hansel and Gretel. She’s not going to eat me.”
His laughter gets louder, and with it, my blood pressure begins to rise.
“Oh sure, mock me. That’s incredibly helpful. I’ll be back soon.”
“We will be back soon,” he corrects. “What kind of husband would I be if I left you all alone to fend for yourself out there?”
Exhaling, I turn and reach for the crystal door knob of the front door.
“Like it or not, we’re stuck together until we make it home,” he says from behind me.
Spinning around to face him, I’m surprised to find him incredibly close.
He takes a step towards me, crowding my space even more.
I attempt to take a step away, but my back hits the door.
His eyes find mine, and my breath hitches when I inhale his expensive cologne.
Leaning forward on both of his arms, he cages me in, and my body betrays me like it always does when he’s nearby.
“You said she’s trying to teach us something…what if it’s that we’re meant to be together? We did wake up married after all.”
“She’s a witch, not a matchmaker. And if she is a matchmaker, it appears she’s not a very good one.”
Bringing his mouth to my ear, his warm breath tickles the exposed skin of my neck and causes goosebumps to erupt across my arms. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he says, “I’d have to disagree. I think we could be really good together.”
“You do?” My voice shakes, and I swallow hard. My knees threaten to buckle underneath me as I try my best not to give away the effect he has on me, but it’s no use.
A hum escapes from his lips. “We were pretty good together last night.”
The door clicks open, and my eyes follow the sound to find that his hand is no longer on the frame, but on the door knob.
“After you, Wifey” he says, chuckling.
“Ugh, can you try not to be so annoying.” Letting out a frustrated breath, I push him away from me. If I’m not already dead, then this man will surely be the death of me.