Page 70
Story: Bloody Wedding
He didn’t want to talk about the injuries to his hand. Fair enough. I didn’t want to talk about Haven, and when he told meover breakfast the next morning that he reached out to Connor—who seems to have become her guardian or something since her ‘incident’—and he apologetically told him that Haven is aware that I’m in town, but that she’ll talk to me when she’s ready.
Only she’s not ready yet, and that’s just another blow to my esteem that I didn’t need.
Did I think that I was lonely before? Knowing that the only good friend I ever had is happy to keep her distance from me cuts like a knife. And that’s not fair. I know it isn’t. Something happened to Haven, and from what I can infer, it wasn’t good. She needs time. She needs space.
And I?
I don’t know what the hell I need.
A husband who cared would be nice. Who spent time getting to know me instead of thinking of me as the girl he once knew instead of the woman I’ve become. That’s not asking much, right? I mean, when I think about how far he went to make me his wife in the first place… I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been asking too much. So many Offerings end up in loveless marriages. At least Adrian seems to care for me in his own way. And I’m pretty sure that I don’t have to worry about him going to one of the Used… for now.
The whole rest of the day after my birthday, I convince myself that I should be satisfied with what I have. It could always be worse, and it could be that my expectations were way too high for my birthday this year. After all, I’ve only been back in Adrian’s life for a month. Most of the time, we’re doing our own thing. It isn’t fair of me to expect more when I’ve spent the last month trying my best to keep him out.
If he doesn’t know the twenty-eight-year-old Loni that I am now, is that really his fault? Or is it mine, too?
It’s fine. It’sfine. I tell myself that repeatedly because, even if it isn’t, there’s nothing I can do to change it now.
And I’ve just about convinced myself of that fact when Adrian comes stalking into the living room where I’m mindlessly watching television.
I called out today. I didn’t have to. Working remotely… as long as I hit my quota every work, performing my audits on time, my supervisor doesn’t really care when precisely I’m on the clock. I had the entire day yesterday to myself because Maxwell and Dimmity’s gives a personal day for your birthday. Since I’m still sulking today, I put in for another one.
Adrian had frowned when I told him that during breakfast. If he’d known, he would’ve rearranged his own schedule, but it looked like he couldn’t. He had an important meeting in the morning, another with Jack and Dallas Collins for lunch, and then something planned in the afternoon he just couldn’t miss.
Translation: sorry, Loni, but the Order still comes first.
I expected that to mean he wouldn’t be home until well after dinnertime. I made myself a quick PB&J for lunch, planning to order in for dinner in case Adrian didn’t show until late. Then, curled up on the couch in the living room, I zoned out.
When Adrian walks into the living room, the first thing I notice is that he already removed his tie. To me, that’s a sure sign that his word day is over but, as I grab my phone and glance at it, I see it’s only three o’clock.
Huh. That’s early.
I open my mouth to ask him about when I notice asecondthing about him.
His hands are in front of his middle, cupped around something that is squirmy and orange and fluffy and mewing and holy fucking shit’’
“Is that a kitten?”
My fingers fly up, covering my mouth in surprise.
Because it is. I see the reflective greenish-yellow eyes. The triangle-shaped ears. The tiny head peeking up from the hole he made in his hands.
Why in God’s name does Adrian have akitten?
With a slow smirk crossing his face, he moves into the room. Dropping down at my side, he opens his hands, placing the kitten in my lap.
“She doesn’t have a name yet,” he murmurs. “I thought I would leave that up to you.”
“Did you… is she…” I pause, gathering my excited thoughts together. “Did you get me a kitten?”
Reaching out, Adrian rubs his pointer finger underneath the kitten’s chin. She immediately starts purring like a motorboat, and I fall instantly in love with her.
“I went back and forth on this. For the last week I’ve been deciding whether I should bring you to the shelter or if I should surprise you with one for your birthday. In the end, I went and rescued one myself because… to be honest, Loni… if you went, we would’ve come home with the whole litter.”
“You know,” I say, suddenly feeling more light-hearted than I have in days, “studies say that kittens do better when there are two of them.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. When you see how much stuff I had to pick up in order for the shelter to let me adopt her… you might just be satisfied with one.”
Somehow, I highly doubt that.
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