Page 150 of Puck My Life

I sit on the edge of her bed and shake her arm gently.

“Hey, Vae.”

She peels open her eyes, but her face is flushed, and she doesn’t look good.

“You don’t look good.”

“Feel awful.”

I pull out my phone and send Deacon and Mal a message, then I get up, toe off my shoes, and close her door.

I climb into bed and wrap my arms around her.

Vae groans but settles into a deep sleep.

Mal and Deacon bring her cupcake with a candle on it. They sing happy birthday at the top of their lungs.

I smile at them, and Vae just looks enchanted.

She frowns and clutches her stomach, and I note that the illness she has is still hanging around. I wish I could make her feel better.

“Happy Birthday, Vae,” Mal whispers and kisses her cheek. “Ooh, I like your perfume.”

He steps back, and I take his place, passing her a small box. She opens it and finds a delicate gold necklace of a star with a tiny diamond in the middle.

“You don't need to live on a star, Vae, you are a star.”

Deacon kisses her cheek. “Love you, Vae. Happy birthday.”

She strokes the delicate necklace and closes her eyes. I know she’s making a wish.

I make one, too.

The thought is random and strong and impossible to ignore.

I wish she was mine.

PRESENT

Vae’s eyes are bright as Mal twirls her around the kitchen. He catches her and dips her quickly before he drags her up and walks her, pressed against her back, to the stove where they continue to cook.

This is happiness.

“Mal, you need to get ready! We have to go to practice. We’ve got a game tonight.”

Mal sighs and lets Vae go, kissing her thoroughly before he rushes off to get ready.

“I’m coming with you today,” I tell Vae.

Together, we go to her place, and I try to stay out of the way while she creates her magic. She’s got an offsider now. The store has been a roaring success.

Just watching her has become an erotic fixation, the way she swirls the icing over her cupcakes. Or how she rolls the cookie dough out. I don’t know how many times we’ve waited until closing time before I grab the whisk, icing bowl, or just bend her over the counter and fuck her raw.

I pick up my guitar and start singing. More and more people come in, getting a slice of something, a coffee, and listening to me play. Before long, she’s got a line out the door.

All day, we work, and it’s the happiest I’ve ever been.

But, gradually, I start noticing something different about the way people are talking and responding.