Page 242 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Another tear falls from Dollie’s eyes. With my thumb, I wipe it away, preventing it from landing on the pillow she rests on.
My new room is nice, I guess,I mouth.But you aren’t there. I missed you.
A huge smile lights up her face, and tiny arms lock around my neck.
While close to my chest, she asks a question, “You’re mad at Mommy and Daddy? You haven’t wanted to be around them since we came home. What if they send you to live with your other mom? I won’t have you anymore. I won’t know how to live without my big brother.”
I wait for her head to tip back so she can see my mouth.
You won’t have to. Even if that were an option, I wouldn’t go. I’ll never leave you.
“Because you love me, right?”
More than anything.
CHAPTER 57
Dollie—present day
Stirring in bed, my eyes open to the blinding morning light shining through the dome. Half of me wants to go up there and snuggle down in the old memories, and the other half wants to turn away from the light and fall back to sleep.
The weather is so different from last night—calm, mellow, bright. It’s the opposite of how I feel as I wipe the sleep from my eyes, still tired because it takes me forever to fall asleep up here. I wouldn’t even have come up here if Bubbles hadn’t miraculously braved the stairs for the first time ever while we were at the cemetery.
I guess she was looking for me or Ambrose.
The way she lingered at the top, as if she couldn’t get back down, made me feel like she wasn’t afraid of something up here as much as she was afraid of the actual stairs.
She’s still asleep, sprawled out on the floor with not a care in the world.
I turn to my phone, resting on my bedside table under the shadow of my blooming rose that stands proudly in a small glass. Its beauty stands out in the almost empty room. The moldy wallsoffer minor decoration in place of all the lovable things I’ve had to part with recently.
No messages from Shane waiting for an answer. There’s been nothing since the text that came shortly after midnight, loaded with alcohol induced typos, that told me he was gonna go to a house party and not for me to wait up. It’s a good thing I didn’t, as it’s eight minutes past ten in the morning, and he’s still not here.
He’d said before leaving yesterday that he’d come home to me, but he isn’t the one ruffling the covers and almost knocking my phone out of my hands. I wake my stirring guest by coughing up what feels like half a lung.
Annabelle had texted me around 1 a.m. to see if I was awake and showed up shortly afterwards because she was sick of hearing her ancient roommates go at it.
“Eh, the smell in this bed makes me feel ill.”
“Are you sure it’s not the bottle of wine you drank after arriving?” I ask as she hangs over the bed.
“No. It’s the bed. It smells like sex and cheap perfume.” Eyeing me over her shoulder, she asks, “We didn’t, right?”
She laughs, bringing a little morning humor, before checking under the ruffled covers to see if her clothes are on.
I set down my phone, and I laugh because she does.
“We don’t wear cheap perfume, Annabelle.”
“True. The one you have is really nice.”
“It was my mom’s, but she didn’t like it. I’ve had that same bottle for years. I’m almost out.”
“Yeah, and you clearly didn’t spray it in here. Seriously, what is this smell?”
“Shane was here yesterday morning before leaving to have drinks with his friends. He got ready up here. He has lots of cheap clones.”They’re already up here, lining the walls on shelves near the old TV I haven’t switched on in years.
“And the other smell?”
