Chapter 11
eleven
DEE
At least I’m not all alone anymore.
Robbie comes over a few times a week, and we go on walks with Boomer, cook dinner and fuck before we both pass out. I don’t love that he sleeps over, but I’m learning to accept it as long as he stays on his side of the bed.
The guy’s a lot softer than he seems at first, and likes having tender moments, which I do my best to reciprocate. I might even call him a little clingy with how often he texts and asks me out. Those are all qualities I should like in a partner, but it’s just not doing it for me.
No, if I’m telling the truth, all I want is to get utterly ravaged by my wolfman. More often than not when we’re in bed, that’s what I think about, instead. I feel bad imagining something else when Robbie’s inside me, and the feeling only gets worse the more time goes on.
I thought I’d have forgotten about the stranger at DreamTogether by now, but I just can’t seem to shake him.
At least the morning sickness has faded, but in its place has emerged a new complication. Food I used to love doesn’t taste as good as it once did, and I find myself lusting after things I’d never even considered delicious before. Robbie’s confused when I decline the breadsticks at Olive Garden and order the fish.
“Didn’t you say two weeks ago that you hate fish?” he asks, giving me a perplexed look.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It was just calling to me. I want that ocean smell.”
He shakes his head. “Pregnant ladies. What’ll it be next, haggis?”
I frown at him. It actually does sound good, but I definitely can’t say that.
Almost every time I see him, I worry that I’m using Robbie just for his companionship, not because I really care or lust for him. But I also don’t have the guts to tell him the truth, because in a way, he’s all I have.
Well, and Boomer. When Robbie’s not over, Boomer sits on the couch with me while I knit and watch television. We enjoy long walks, and often I bring a blanket to the park so we can sit together and watch people go by. I love his companionship, how easily he shows affection, how wonderful it is to show him affection in return. I have a timer set for his mealtimes, and I usually sneak a little bit of my dinner down to him, even though I know I shouldn’t. Probably the only downside is that sometimes at night, he’ll run to the sliding glass door that leads onto the balcony over the street and start barking like crazy, waking me up.
I don’t know what it is that he sees out there, but I hope his vision isn’t going bad. He’s older for a dog his size, I know, and the last thing I want is for anything bad to happen to him so soon. I’ve grown pretty attached in a short period of time, and I think he has, too. He loves to climb up on my lap and lick my face, as if he were a much smaller dog, and parks himself at the foot of my bed every night to watch over me.
As much as I love my new apartment, though, and as well as my plants have taken to the new balcony, recently I’ve started feeling... unsettled. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it’s like a tickle at the base of my neck I can’t scratch away. I mostly feel it during the day, or late at night when Boomer wakes me up. Sometimes I think I see a black car following me when I do errands, and other times I notice strange shadows while I’m walking the dog.
Maybe pregnancy hormones are making me crazy. All sorts of other things have changed, so it wouldn’t surprise me. And yet, as the weeks crawl by, I can’t shake the sense that someone is watching me.
So I keep Boomer at my side at all times. I leave my lights on in the living room, even at night, to ward off anyone who might try to break in. Maybe I’m paranoid.
Life falls into a new pattern anyway, though, and I flow along with it. Once or twice a week I meet up with Liesel. Finally, I introduce her to Robbie, but as usual I can’t read her at all. He’s clearly unsettled by her, but puts on his game face because she’s my best friend.
The next day, I call her up on the phone to get her opinion.
“Hmm,” is all she says. “That’s how I feel about him.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “What does that mean?”
“He’s fine. Nothing exciting, just fine.”
When she says it, though, I think I know what she means. Robbie is a nice guy, and as my belly slowly starts to show, he doesn’t act like he minds. Still, he keeps a polite distance, never expressing affection or admiration for it.
And that’s just fine with me. I’d rather pretend it wasn’t there, because these days, it only serves as a reminder I’ll never see Bill again, and that sparks a drowning hopelessness in me.
“But do you want ‘fine,’ Dee?” Liesel asks, prying deeper. “Is that really going to satisfy you?”
I don’t know how to explain to her that being with Robbie is not about being satisfied. It’s about holding off the uglier thing hiding deep underneath it, the truth that I don’t want to face.
“Find me a better option,” I finally say. “I dare you. Who’s going to date the lady whose job is to get pregnant?”
Liesel lets out a displeased tsk . “Just another McFlips,” she says, but doesn’t push me any farther.
I’m going to be content with what I have. Someday, I’ll forget about him.
RUSS
It’s agony, really. But I have no choice.
I watch my woman day in and day out. Whenever I’m not at work, I’m parked on various streets in her neighborhood, never returning to the same place too many times. The last thing I need is to arouse the suspicion of one of her neighbors.
After leaving my car, I find a comfortable spot where I can keep an eye on her house. I’ve got strong arms and big claws, so it’s not too hard for me to climb up onto a roof nearby and observe from there. I learned early on not to get close to the house, because it appears Dee has a dog companion, and it diligently barks at me whenever it catches sight of me lurking around.
At least there’s that. She has someone else watching over her, too, when I can’t be around.
I follow her wherever she goes, whether it’s to the grocery store, to Liesel’s house, or to her boyfriend’s place. Sometimes she drives a little erratically, which makes me crazy. I don’t think I could bear her getting into a wreck. But I keep a few cars back, so that if such a thing were to happen, I would be there in a blink to help.
Every time she heads into Aston, I know she’s on her way to see that fucking detestable man. When she parks in his driveway, I find a spot around the corner where my car is hidden from sight, and quietly close the door as I get out. I want to climb over the fence into his yard to get a better view, but Dee usually brings Boomer with her, and the dog would go ballistic if he saw me.
I hate this human imposter. I fucking hate him more than I’ve ever hated anything. Whenever I see his face appear in a window I just want to punch him as hard as I can, so hard I knock him out or kill him.
Every so often at night, I hear her cry out, and I shudder all over knowing it’s someone else soaking in her hot, wet pussy. It should be me. My instincts almost boil over at the sound of it, and I have to tamp down the rabid urge to rush inside the house and tear them apart.
But her cries... aren’t the same as what I remember. They’re strange, almost false, and that gives me a faint glimmer of hope that maybe I still have a chance someday when she gets bored of her beau.
And that day will come, I know it. Then I’ll make my move.