Chapter 5
Chapter five
Daphne
“You’re so drunk,” I whisper as I look at Gerald lying prone on the sofa of our cozy private cabin. He reeks of scotch, the peat-moss-like odor all over the front of his shirt as if he spilled half a bottle on himself.
“No you, you’re drunk,” he laughs into the plaid couch cushion.
I scrub my hand down my face, unsure of how to proceed. I’ve never seen him like this. Sure, we have a drink at dinner, but he’s plastered. I feel guilty once again that the wedding stress is getting to him. Seeing me falling all over myself probably didn’t help either.
“What can I do to help?” I ask as I kneel and stroke his head.
Gerald’s head pops up, spit plastering the side of his face, eyes rolled partly back.
“You-you can just play your damn part,” he seethes. There’s an anger behind his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
“What?” My brows knit and I search his face.
“Play the little wife and let me get on with my damn life. Honestly this should feel like a gift I’m giving to you—quit making me second-guess it all!”
My stomach freezes and I get nauseous.
“Are you having second thoughts about the w-wedding…about me?” I gulp down my panic and try to steady myself for his answer. I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s done with me. I’ve given up so much to make this work, and I want a family so fucking badly.
“Oh, we’ll be getting married, you can bet your pert little ass on that.” Gerald closes his eyes and pushes his body weight into the couch cushions. He rocks side to side.
“Tell the room to stop moving,” he commands.
“Babe?” I place my hand on the small of his neck.
He looks at me and opens his mouth. Instead of a response, I’m hit with a wave of sour vomit. The acidic bile hits my chest, coating my jacket and sweater beneath.
I gag, putting my hand over my mouth as I lean as far away from him as I can. When I have no other choice, I look at him.
Gerald slumps back down and scoffs into the cushion. “Clean yourself up.”
I take a steadying breath and stand back up. Looking around the cabin and realize there are no cleaning supplies to speak of. I don’t know how to clean my only jacket in time for tomorrow either.
Even though it’s the last thing in the world I want to share, Gerald being like he is right now, I need to call someone for help.
Still wet with barf, I walk over to the console table near the front door. Picking up the phone, I call the only other person I know here.
“Front desk, this is Andri speaking, how can I help you?” His deep voice is weirdly soothing. Despite my anxiety about him seeing what my life is like, I want his help.
“Andri, I’ve got a bit of a situation on my hands…”
“Are you okay?” There’s a panicked note to his voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just Gerald. He’s gotten sick.”
“Oh, yeah, I can help you. I’ll be there in one sec. Let me grab some cleaning supplies.”
The phone clicks on his end, and I place the dated receiver back into its cradle. Unable to do anything but wait and not wanting to get vomit any more places than it already is, I stand still.
It gives me just enough time to survey what I’ve made of my life. I’m a college dropout, a foster kid who never found their forever family, a shit skier, and worst of all I know that the man who just vomited on me is as good as it gets. Gerald is as close as someone like me gets to a happy ending.
And there, coated in his bile, I wonder if this is really the life I want. Do I want a life that Gerald has crafted for me—or should I be forging my own way?
It only takes a minute or two before there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I yell, and the door unlocks itself. Of course he would have a master key, he is the owner of this establishment after all.
The door swings open, and a burst of chilly air blows past Andri, snow haloing around his form backlit by the moonlight. His soft white fur floats up in the wind, such a contrast to that strong blue jaw of his.
I’d like to say it’s the cold, but I think it’s how noble he looks that takes my breath away.
Only once he enters do I see the comically small maid’s caddy and bucket he carries. He holds the handle between his thumb and forefinger as if it was nothing more than a doll’s toy.
“I’m here!” he shouts a little too loudly. He’s huffing, like he’s run across the mountain to get to me. Wait, not me, to the mess. He probably doesn’t want anything in the room to stain too badly.
When he sees me, he wrinkles his nose. I don’t blame him for it though, because honestly this whole situation is gross.
“I-I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have any cleaning stuff or I would have—”
“It’s not a problem, I swear.” He sets the bucket down. His eyes snap over to Gerald, slumped face down on the sofa. “Is it okay if I put him into the recovery position in the bathroom? It’ll make any future messes much easier to clean.”
“Of course, why didn’t I think of that? God, I’m sorry I’m so stupid.” I feel worthless.
“What?” Andri looks confused. “You do know that none of this is your fault, right? It’s his.” He walks over to my blacked-out fiance and lifts him easily. He holds Gerald like you would hold a baby with a full diaper—as far away as his arms can.
He takes him into the bathroom, and I don’t follow. I hear a bit of shuffling, and a grunt, before Andri reappears with Gerald’s shirt and jacket that he stuffs into a bag.
“I’ll have these cleaned by seven.” He stops in front of me and holds the bag open.
I pause before realizing that he wants my stuff too.
“That’s really nice of you,” I tell him as I carefully peel my jacket off. “And I want you to know that the stress of the wedding is really all this is. Gerald is great, I promise.” I drop my gaze as I quickly chuck the sticky sweater off my body and into the bag.
There’s a beat of silence between us. Even though I don’t want him to, I thought Andri might contradict me. When I look back up at him, his blue mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide. He’s staring directly at my boobs, and I raise my hands quickly to cover my chest.
From the look on his face, I can only assume he thinks human bodies are weird. Of course he would, but some part of me wishes he didn’t.
I run into the bathroom and immediately turn on the shower, stepping over Gerald’s body.
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking! Humans must look so weird to you.
Let me just rinse off and I’ll be right back out to help you clean up.
” I ditch the rest of my clothing and close the glass door behind me.
Letting the stream of hot water over my face cool my thrumming embarrassment, I grab some soap and wash any lingering ickiness off my chest.
I hear a squeak in the floorboards, and I turn and see Andri ducking his head under the door frame, his left horn scratching it as he does, to the bathroom. His wide eyes are hooded and dark, and I’m frozen in shock that he’s followed me into the bathroom. He runs his gaze up my body slowly.
“For the record, and what it’s worth, I don’t think you look weird. I very much like looking at you.” When his eyes meet my own, he says, “And I’ll stop looking if you want me to.”
Heat floods my core and leaves me clenching over nothing. Do I want him to see me like this? My soapy hands are frozen on my chest. Andri’s lips part, and I swear I can hear him breathing over the flow of the water. There’s a grunt from the floor.
Gerald shifts, but doesn’t wake.
I look back at the snowman, then to my fiance, and back to the intense blue face in the doorway. I know what I want, but—
“I’m engaged.”
The light behind his eyes dulls, like a metal shutter’s been pulled over something carnal inside him.
“Of course.” He immediately drops his gaze to his huge feet. “I’ll clean up the living room—you enjoy that shower, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He closes the door and leaves me to wash myself. I do it quickly, avoiding any part of my body that might be sensitive.
I even turn off the hot water entirely and try to knock some cold sense into my system.
I’m engaged, taken, and that’s it for me, right?