Page 244 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
That laugh comes again.
“Someone is definitely here.”
“It sounds like it. You hurt by that?”
I glare at her. Does she think I shouldn’t be?
I probably shouldn’t be.
And I probably shouldn’t have told her last night that I’m struggling with my feelings for Ambrose.
Especially, when she got too wine drunk to remember it.
The glaring realization hits her. “Really! Your brother!” Annabelle doesn’t seem all that surprised. Maybe, she remembers more than she’s letting on. “When people fantasize about siblings, they usually leave it in their head.”
The way she talks feels like she’s baiting me to say more.
I need out of this stifling room that laces my back in sweat. The pink color is starting to feel suffocating, making the journey from the bed a draining one.
Annabelle jumps out from her side, chasing me to the door that I yank open.Bubbles follows us with slow feet, a yawn, and a stretch.
“Hurry,” I whisper, not wanting anyone to hear me as I motion for her to move faster. I wait in the hallway on eager legs because I can’t walk across the adjoining one alone.
“Okay. This carpet is coming up today.” Annabelle points to the stains as she walks me around them.
I’m pretty sure Ambrose’s guest suggested taking them up, too. Her voice and those words linger in my head.
But what can really be done today?
“Nyx said next week,” I remind Annabelle.
“Nyx can lay the new one. This one comes up today.”
Looking down to the first floor, we spy Ambrose at the door. Golden skin and scars on show as he shows the same brunette I’d seen at The Funhouse out of our house.
This woman looks as beautiful as I remember her. Her classy clothes and big heels give her a sophistication I never manage in daytime hours.
“Do you think they’re gonna kiss?” I ask, voice breaking and fingertips turning white on the banister.
I hope not.
“If they do, they’ve probably done more, right?”
Ambrose leans against the doorframe closer to his friend.
A comforting hand rubs my back, and I glance to see the pity in Annabelle’s eyes. It amplifies the sickly feeling swirling in my stomach and the tightness in my chest that worsens with every breath.
The only thing exchanged between Ambrose and the brunette is a smile and some words I can’t hear.
He coughs into his arm as her ruffled hair disappears out the door, and not in the path of his germs.
Closing it, he hesitates, but heads for the stairs. Annabelle’s loving touch becomes a caring hug as she moves closer to me. Closer to the little wooden gargoyle that creeps her out and evokes a house rattling shriek that makes me jump.
“Sorry.” She squeezes my arm. Her attention quickly changes direction as Ambrose reaches the top of the stairs.
Sweats hang low on his hips and his arms band across his chest. The left one is covered by the right, as if he’s hiding something from me. New cuts? Hickeys? Something else?
There’s tension and a million silent questions floating that I have no right to ask.
