Page 22 of As Angels Sin

It isn’t funny. Not at all. If it were anyone else but Crue, my reaction would’ve been the same as to my engagement with Tomas.

Frightened disgust.

“’ Told you it was funny,” he brings his hand to a stop when it reaches my knee. He wants to move it higher. He wants to slip off my sheets and repeat what we did the last time he was here. But even Crue wouldn’t take that risk after Father asked to see me.

“He doesn’t realize I’ve been watching you this whole time. Must be nice living in ignorance.”

When the side-splitting laughing comes to a halt, and after I wipe away the tears under my eyes, I look at Crue again. One corner of his lip is curled up, as if he is trying so very hard to smile, only for it to stop halfway. But it’s the closest thing to joy I’ve ever seen on his face, since he came inside of me.

“What did you tell him?” I ask.

“That I’ll do it. The only difference between what would have happened and what’s going to now, is that I’m getting paid instead of creeping through your bushes for no reason.” Is this another attempt at a joke? Since when has Crue started moonlighting as a comedian?

“I should go see him,” I cut the moment short. Crue might not understand what he did and why it was wrong, but I can’t lie here and pretend that things are getting better between us. But, as he stands up and I shuffle out of my bed, some invisible force grabs hold of my belly and makes me speak.

“Will you stay? Wait for me.” I know why it spilled out of me. The three sticks of plastic that hold their unbearable secret. I want him here as support, I suppose. Who better to carry half the weight, than the man who may or may not have put a baby into me?

“I will, Little Flame.” Anguish and torment season his words. “But I won’t be good company.”

Has he ever been good company? To me, no. Crue isn’t company at all. He takes what he wants and leaves nothing behind. Conversation and the mundaneness of normal life don’t exist with him. He is the embodiment of darkness and brooding.

That’s why it has to be him at my side. Not as the man who tried to kill me, or even as someone else who’d be a mess of emotions when I find my answer. I need a rock to lean on. Nothing more, nothing less. And how much better would it be for that rock to be a towering statue of intensity?

Crue sits back down, and I leave to meet Father. My quick hurry to his side is cut short when I’m greeted by the most stunning sunset I’ve seen in years as soon as I step outside. I can’t bring myself to just rush past it. No matter what’s happening in my head, or what’s waiting in that bathroom, this wonder of nature deserves a moment of silent approval and adoration.

Sunsets like this just don’t happen in the city. Too many buildings block the view, and there are not enough trees to amplify the pastel-colored skyline. It’s so damned stunning my chest feels hollow, and my eyes start to water. Again. It must be a combination of what happened in my bedroom mixed with the stunning scenery.

“How are you feeling, daughter?” Father asks as I take my seat.

“I’m better. Much better.” I have been, since I spewed this morning, but to sell my fib, I add. “Whatever Simone picked up knocked the bug right out of me.”

“Wonderful, I’m glad to hear it. I was worried about you.”

“You were?” My response to this unknown, unchartered territory I find myself in, is incredulity. Crue’s trying to smile, Father’s actually caring...

I could get used to it, when I know I shouldn’t.

“Of course, silly girl.” There’s no malice in his voice. “I don’t show it as often as I should, but I do love you.”

An uncomfortable heat suddenly burns my cheeks when I hear those three stupid words come out of his mouth. It’s quickly followed by the sting of a single tear that rolls down the side of my nose and drips onto the table. I make quick work of rubbing the evidence away with the back of my wrist.

“I love you too, Father.” I hang my head, unable to face him directly. Not that he’s looking at me, but I’d rather hide away before he does than let him see me like this. Crue’s smile was hard enough, and that was barely a corner of his lip. I hate to think what state I’d be in, if Father went out of his way to show me love and affection.

“Crue and I had a chat.” I clear my throat and will the rest of my tears back into their ducts. “You want him to guard me?”

“That man.” Father shakes his head, letting out a wheezing, raspy chuckle. “It was meant to be on the hush-hush, but I never actually told him that. It doesn’t matter anyway, so yes, I asked him to keep an eye on you.”

“He also said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

Father’s head snaps in my direction at that, and he gulps down a harsh swallow. I realize that the entire world has turned strange today, so I don’t bother trying to read or understand his expression — a mix of nervous giddiness will have to do.

What I do pick up on is how strange Father’s reaction is. He called me here to speak to me, so why does he look like a deer, caught in headlights, now that I’ve arrived?

It’s kooky, crazy, bananas day. Just keep reminding yourself of that, and nothing can surprise you.

“Also, true,” he says at last.

“You’re making me nervous,” I say, feeling the first bubble of discomfort fluttering through me like a heartbeat. “What is it?”

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