Page 66 of Shattered Omega

Man of few words today.

He tilted his head, staring at the shelves. Now that they were fixed on the wall, I was less worried. We could fix them a little more, to be safe. One of the shelves had fallen off during the journey from the workshop to the apartment.

I handed Umbra another screw.

Finally, after a few more, Umbra set the drill down, took a step back, and regarded the bookshelf from a distance. Then he nodded to himself, and clapped me on the shoulder. Hesitantly, I reached out to push lightly against the side of the shelf.

No movement.

Not even a shiver of a wobble.

It was sturdy.

My racing pulse slowed, and I gave it one more shove. It didn’t move.

Thank fuck.

If she wanted to move it, we could. It just might take a while. But I’d move it wherever she wanted.

“Thanks for helping,” I muttered. “Now to pray she likes it.” I swallowed. It might be safely fixed to the wall, but that didn’t make it quite as pretty as I had envisioned.

I’d wanted perfect hexagons, not wonky shelf after wonky shelf. I don’t really know how I’d managed it, actually.

Fuck.

I wrung my fingers. She’d be back soon…

Dusk had been right about the varnish. The deep mahogany matched the room, and I had found that tray stashed under her bed. Along with a dark wood jewellery box that was empty, but smelled suspiciously like orange and fir tree, and lastly, three acorns.

Shit.

You know. This was a mistake.

Was there time to take it down?

I stepped forward, only for Umbra to catch me by the collar and drag me back.

“I think…” I stared at it.

The more I looked at my creation, the more I convinced myself…

Lopsided.

And the varnish job was patchy. I don’t even know how.

No. It definitely had to come down. I turned on Umbra, grabbing him by the wrist, but he cuffed me on the cheek with a grin. I growled, tugging my hair from my face.

“You’re overthinking it,” Umbra said, ignoring my growl and shoving me away from the shelf.

“Oh, he speaks.”

“You fucking idiot. She loves you. She’s going to love it.”

“I don’t know if she loves me enough for this?—”

“She loved you when you couldn’t talk and we kept you chained to the wall in a dark room,” he said with a grin. “I don’t think you could fuck a shelf up bad enough to match that.”

“I know she loves me,” I muttered. “It’s more about what she deserves.”

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