Page 18 of My Blind Date is a Demon

“Says who?”

“Says…human decency.”

Damon lets out a barking laugh. “You are making that up.”

“I am not,” I say. “It’s just how it is.”

“The woman was rude to you and you made her think about her actions. Why should you apologize?”

“I have to see her every time I have to go to the office,” I say. I can’t believe I’m having to explain right and wrong to a demon. “If I want to keep the peace and not have things be awkward for the next two years, I’ll just have to do it.”

“Or, and this is just a thought, you could let things be awkward.”

“Let… Umm, why would I do that? Why would I make things harder for myself?”

“Wouldn’t it make things easier to stop caring what some rude busybody thinks of your parenting?”

“It’s a small town,” I say. “I don’t want a reputation as a…a…”

“As someone who stands up for herself?” he asks.

I let his words sink in. They are making sense. Why should I apologize? She’s always judging my parenting when she has no idea how I struggle daily. Why should I apologize when she was rude to me? I should feel proud for sticking up for myself. I look at Damon to tell him he’s right, but my eyes meet his glowing red ones. I see the self-satisfied smirk on his face, his curled goat horns.

“Nice try,” I say.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I should be taking advice from a demon,” I say.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“You were sent here to curse me, to torture me,” I say. “You might not have succeeded in possessing me, but that doesn’t mean you won’t still try to ruin my life.”

“Hey,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender, “I think you have done a great job ruining your own life.”

His words stab me in the chest and I burst into tears.

“Whoa, hey, sorry,” he says. “It was just a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny!” I yell. “Don’t you think I know that? That I ruined my life. Ruined my daughter’s life? You really are a monster, you know that?”

“Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, patting my shoulder awkwardly. I shrug him away. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I killed my husband! There! Are you happy now?”

His face shows genuine shock. “Whoa. What? No. You couldn’t have.”

“Well, I did,” I say, wiping my face with my hands. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” he says. “I told you, I didn’t know anything about you.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“It’s just obvious how unhappy you are,” he says. “I just meant that you are miserable and I can’t see any reason for it. You have a nice house, a cute kid. You live in Mystic Cove. I know your husband is dead, but it happens. It wasn’t recent. That picture of the three of you together was really old. Bella was so small in it. I just figured that the only person making you unhappy is you.”

“Well, you got that much right,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “It’s all my fault.”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “What happened?”

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