Page 155 of Mayhem and Minnie

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I add weakly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” She trails off.

I turn on my side so I can look at her.

She’s on her back, staring at the ceiling. The blankets are up to her neck, leaving only her beautiful face for me to feast on.

Now I understand why so many men become enchanted with her at first sight. It might not have been as instantaneous for me, but that’s likely because I’m a blind idiot.

She’s stunning.

All sunshine and warmth, and I so desperately need that warmth.

“But?”

She bites her lip as she slowly turns on her side too, her gaze meeting mine.

There are still a few inches of separation between us, but at this point, they feel like a wide ocean. I’ve never been fond of swimming—too cold. But for her, I might be willing to do it.

“I want to and at the same time I’m scared of getting too close,” she confesses on a whisper.

“Why?”

“Because only tragedy awaits then.” She gives me a sad smile.

I stare at her.

“Minnie, I hope you’re not scared I’m going to hurt you,” I suddenly say. I never realized this might be something I need to address, but given my proclivities, I suppose she has reason to be afraid. “I may kill people, but I will not kill you,” I tell her. “Granted, I did at one point want to kill you, but not anymore. You should feel honored.” I nod at her.

She blinks.

“You…wanted to kill me?” she repeats in disbelief.

“Well, only at the beginning. And for about a week or so after I met you. But I’ve come to my senses.” I smile, waiting for her to realize how lucky she is.

She doesn’t say a word. She just stares at me, so I feel compelled to clarify.

“I don’t normally kill women. In fact, you were going to be my first female victim. That in itself is an honor, too.”

“You don’t kill women but you wanted to kill me?” she asks slowly, her expression slowly morphing into one of outrage.

“You’re taking it all wrong. I was about to make an exception for you,” I explain.

“I don’t see how that should flatter me,” she mutters in a dry voice.

“Well, you have to admit that when you first moved in, you were dirty and smelly. Let’s not forget you ate from dumpsters, which by the way, I have never heard something so obscene before.” That makes me pause. “I hope you brushed your teeth before you kissed my cheek that time,” I add, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Marlowe! Even sick you manage to be an asshole,” she cries out.

“But it’s the truth! Would you prefer I lied to you?”

Okay, maybe I’m still not the best with words seeing as all I say offends her.

“Not everything needs to be said aloud,” she chides.

“But I’m telling you this so you know how special you are. I’ve accepted you even though you have a not so clean past, although I do appreciate you’ve started to wash daily. And your cleaning technique has vastly improved.”

Her mouth drops open in shock. I still have not received my answer regarding whether she brushed her teeth before she kissed me on the cheek, but I fear it might not be in my advantage to ask again.

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