Page 11

The sparkle fans into a single flame, dancing inside some previously unknown, uninhabited spot. My sacred oath. My sacred duty. This is beyond mere satisfaction. This feels like... life. Alive again! Like finding home—for the first time.

Is it my imagination, or does she squirm when I put on my “monster” voice? Not in fear. Could it be... What is the word? A turn-on?

No, of course not.

“First of all, an honest man is suddenly the most attractive man in the world. Secondly, if we’re married now, you’ll have to call me Teri most of the time, or people will think we’re super formal. Not my style.” Therese —Teri, I correct myself— laughs and sinks back, hands falling into her lap.

“Teri, then. What has your story been so far?” I ask. I love how at ease she seems with me at this moment, as if the world wasn’t so harrowing, as if we didn’t have a third party listening. She turns her head towards mine and gives me a crooked smile.

What is that tired old expression I always scoffed at? “As if we were the only two people in the world”? Yes. It’s like that.

“Okay. The truth is, Matteo Delgado swept me off my feet and spoiled me rotten... but there wasn’t a lot of substance.

There was just fun. Whenever I started to feel unsettled in my marriage, I told myself that it was wrong of me.

I should be so grateful to have a handsome, attentive husband who gave me what I said I wanted—travel and excitement, more than a small agricultural town in rural Louisiana could offer.

Then, I started to get bored. I didn’t have friends who could relate to my life, and I didn’t make any as we moved from city to city every few weeks.

I asked Matteo about doing some freelance work or even being a secretary for his company, and he said I couldn’t.

Our schedule was too unpredictable, and his company had no openings.

It was... it is clear now, but it wasn’t then.

I was unhappy because I’d become what everyone called me—just a pretty blonde ex-cheerleader trading on my looks.

I was a trophy wife. He was my trophy husband, too. ”

“You don’t have to take your share of the blame, Teri. Most pretty young couples start out like that, full of freedom and appreciating good looks and attention.” I pretend to have experience.

She calls me on it. “You sound like an old man who’s ‘seen it all.’ I guess... I guess you’ve probably had a lot of relationships since you don’t age, huh?”

I clear my throat. “I’ve never been married.

Or anything close to married. But, I’ve been protecting people for a long time.

I’m an expert in human nature.” How anyone who talked to her for any length of time could ever have thought she could be fobbed off with trinkets and travel is beyond me.

I’ve known her for a few hours, and I can already tell that she’s always thinking, always curious, and always looking for the brightest and best bits of the world.

Delgado probably married too hastily, too.

I bet he didn’t realize how incredible she was before deciding she was the perfect, insipid cover.

“An expert, Reginald?” Jakob asks from the front seat, his gentle voice holding a teasing note.

“I should have known I’d get called on that.

Okay, honesty time. I’m an expert, not from any fancy degree, but from a long, hard life watching the worst and most evil natures of humans as well as witnessing the most loving and heroic ones.

I’ve seen war criminals who commit atrocious acts and widows who would share their last bit of bread with refugees they took in.

I’ve seen people I love age and die while I stand still.

I’ve seen monsters fall in love and have families.

I’ve seen a lot of the world, and I’ve started to notice patterns.

I was made to protect and serve, and I learned to identify threats.

Those instincts have been sharpened over time. ”

Therese makes a choked sound. “Reggie... I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much because of what my family did—and now I’m asking for one more favor.”

“The worst parts were a long time ago. Years and years.” I smile broadly, like the memories don’t hurt.

The body they gave me couldn’t be destroyed—but the mind could be scarred.

I don’t know if that would have mattered at the time, as all humans were earning the same scars, and they were far more fragile.

Jakob mutters something under his breath in Polish. I don’t bother to translate it as Therese grabs my hand suddenly. “Like time could heal all of that! Time might numb things, but they still happened. I... I hope this assignment is one of the better ones you’ve had to deal with,” she whispers.

“This assignment.” That’s right, Reggie. A role. A ruse.

When she holds my hand and we just talk, pouring out the deepest bits of ourselves so quickly, I forget it’s an act.

What would it be like to be married to Therese for real? Those sharpened instincts I spoke of tell me I could not find a truer, kinder person. Better than just sweet or kind—she invokes a kind of whole-hearted trust that I haven’t felt since I traveled through London with Artie Sloan.

“It’s a good assignment,” I say gruffly.

It’s more than that. It’s a dream that I always told myself would never come true.

And it won’t. Even if I can trust her, even though she’s sweet and kind, she wouldn’t want me.

Would never love me. And let’s be honest..

. I don’t know if I could ever truly love someone, even if they loved me first.

THE HOUSE IN PINE RIDGE is adorable—in a “Major Fixer Upper Way.” It’s a small one-story rancher with more wide, green lawn than actual house.

It looks like it was constructed ages ago, with peeling siding and a sloping slate roof.

It would seem dull if it weren’t for the abundance of flowers and the wide, arched windows.

Oh, and the cemetery in the distance certainly adds a lot of. .. atmosphere.

“Welcome home. We’ll figure out more of ‘our story’ inside. Uh. Do I pick you up?” Reggie asks as Minegold drives away, promising to bring Reggie’s van over in a few minutes.

“Oh. You don’t have to.” I would love it if he did.

The only physical contact beyond a handshake that I’ve had has been with Reggie, Mr. Minegold, and Kim, and now Reggie—bulky, musclebound, bald bodyguard Reggie is the only one that’s left.

My love language is touch, according to an internet quiz.

Matteo never left me hungry in that aspect.

“I think we should. Really sell it.” He nods, factual.

In the car, I told him (and Mr. Minegold) about my life with Matteo and how it had really begun to dull, about the comparisons I’d made with my friends who had chosen a simpler life with solid, working-class husbands.

I told them how I threw a fit on the phone and said I had met someone else, a small-town man who would give me a home, let me work, and let me be a real wife and mother. Someone who would start a family.

Matteo had made it clear children were far, far, far away, but I had always dreamed of being a young mom who had the time and energy to grow a big family. I didn’t tell Reggie that last part, of course.

“Well... It’ll look convincing in case anyone’s watching.”

“In this town, you never know,” Reggie sighs and steps close to me, ignoring my bags for a minute. “Tell me if I’m doing this right.”

“Never done it before? Oh, I mean—never been married before,” I chuckle nervously as his hand lands in the small of my back.

Why does he feel so good? So solid and soothing?

He’s made of clay, isn’t he? Why does he suddenly seem so much more alive than Matteo ever did? “Good plan!” I say, far too eagerly.

“That’s right—well, not before today.”

I love his sense of humor. What is wrong with me? I’m sure someone would say this is all part of the “damsel in distress meets knight in shining armor” dynamic that I apparently enjoy. Matteo saved me from small-town rural life. Reggie is saving me from Matteo.

“Well, then I’m the expert on honeymooning and newlyweds. We should be disgustingly affectionate. Never stop touching. Uh. You know, at least in public.” Why did I say that?

Maybe because it’s the truth? I want someone to hold me and hug me? I’m a big baby who shouldn’t have married in a hurry, and now I need someone to keep the bad dreams at bay?

“As long as you’re comfortable. I never had a chance to practice. Golems are built to fight and die—not to find love and happy endings.”

I’m so mad at people I don’t even know. Maybe I’m just focusing my anger on something outside of myself so my own guilt can have a break. “I’m sorry that’s part of the deal. Can’t you have both?”

He shrugs. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

There’s a pause. Sweat trickles down my neck. “It’s humid tonight. I thought it would be cooler in the mountains.”

Does he feel it, too? The heavy, desperate urge to touch? I lick my lips and feel another trail of sweat forming between my breasts.

“I can get those old AC units working in no time.” He points to the windows on the side of the dark gray house.

“So handy.” I beam. Matteo knew how to work a corkscrew—and a knife. My daddy could fix everything from a tractor to an accordion.

“Thank you, I intend to fix this place up so it matches my beautiful bride.” Reggie bends his knees and lifts me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. My feet leave the sidewalk, and I’m floating. “Welcome home, Mrs. Gray.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gray.” Sell it, he said? I held the cheerleaders’ uniform fundraiser record for all four years of high school. I can sell like no one’s business. My mouth plasters to his as he carries me to the door of our pretend love nest.

By the time he fumbles with the keys and gets the door open, I don’t feel like pretending anymore.