Page 143 of The Keeper

And this is why I have that damn policy.

I brushed it off. I broke it for Xavier and have no regrets.

In fact, once we returned to my condo and climbed into bed, I made sure to break it again with him before falling asleep.

Victoria

Plans for this particular Sunday originally involved me digging through boxes in storage. Alone.

“How far away is your childhood home from here?” Xavier asked, following me down a long hallway.

Plans can obviously be modified.

“About a ten minute drive.”

“Do I get to see it when we’re done?”

“Sure, why the fuck not.”

His throaty laugh echoed in the corridor. “Your excitement is unmatched.”

I stopped in front of our unit and unlocked the door. “I sold the house ages ago. It’s not like you get to go inside and critique the place.”

“No gold couches?”

I shrugged. “There might be. But when I lived there? Fuck no.”

“You’re spicy today,” his voice rumbled. “Maybe I should keep track of how many times you swear.”

“Oh, okay, St. Xavier of the Virtuous Mouth. You do that.”

“Hey.” He turned me so I faced him. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I winced. I shouldn’t be snapping at him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Nothing’s going on. I’m just a little on edge with,” I gestured toward the storage unit and then squeezed his hand. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hmm me. I can see you smiling.”

“Must be a mirage.” He leaned in to kiss me. “What are we looking for?”

“A diary,” I answered, rolling the door up. Rows of boxes and plastic bins appeared in shadow. Feeling along the wall, I found the switch and turned on the lights.

Xavier let out a low whistle. “Needle in a haystack, yeah?”

“They’re labeled. It shouldn’t be too bad. Just pull everything with my sister’s name on it.” I walked in and turned. “Please.”

“I was just going to say something about lack of manners,” he chuckled.

I twirled a strand of hair and said in my best light and airy voice, “Thank you, Mr. Maddox.”

“I want to hear you say that later when I have you bent over the couch.”

“Boxes,” I pointed to the stack.

We got to work grabbing everything labeled Charlotte. There were more boxes and bins than I remembered. Most of them had random stuff tossed inside with no rhyme or reason. Clothes, sneakers, nail polish, pillows, stuffed animals, hair clips.

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