Page 378 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Carefully lining up the layers, buttercream floods out the sides. I reply to him, “I know you, Ambrose La’Darragh.”
“Okay. For you. I just don’t like the idea of you being alone here.”
“I have Bubbles.” I point over my shoulder to the dog basking on my altar like she’s an offering to the goddesses.
“I just don’t trust certain people. And we antagonized said person last night.” He places the last bite into his mouth, this one also catching my eye.
“He should be at work. I’ll be okay.”
“Only for the next half an hour. My appointment runs for sixty minutes.”
“I’ll be fine. Eat your toast.”
Stealing my pink food coloring from the table and dropping a few blobs into the bowl of avocado he’s mashed.
With a spoon, not a knife, he layers it onto another piece of toast.
“Eat the toast?” he asks, with a pleased with himself smile. “It’s kinda pink now.”
“It’s kinda brown.”
“It’s a dark nude.”
I giggle but step up to his side anyway. Opening my mouth, I trust him to feed me just a bite.
The zesty lemon taste and his love for overusing pepper dance on my tongue. I catch some crumbs before they fall to the floor, shaking them off into the sink.
“How was it?”
“Peppery.”
His laugh booms through the air. “So, it was great then?”
“You’re such a weirdo. And you’re gonna be late.”
“I know. I’ll leave this here in case you want more.” He places the avocado-clad slice of bread on a small plate. “Shall I order us something for dinner on the way home?”
“Well, I was thinking about making you one of those curries that you like, but we need to place a food order.”
“We can go through it later together. Bubbles is also running low. I’ll see if I can grab something on the way home, but seriously, you don’t have to make Indian food. I know your stomach is sensitive.” He leaves his seat, stepping up to me, and tipping my chin up, he places a soft kiss on my mouth.
It leaves me giddy.
“Another kiss, and you still haven’t been sick.”
“I think that’s over.” A second kiss lands on my head.
The oven dings, pulling me away from him because another cake layer is done.
“One more kiss, Dollie. I don’t need to be worrying about something bad happening while I’m gone.”
“It won’t.”
He freezes, like he’s unsure whether or not to protest. “You’re probably right.”
“Yep, but if you’re late for your psychology appointment and Dr. Harrison doesn’t think you’re taking it seriously, something bad might actually happen.”
“Okay.” His hands rise in defense. “I’m going.”
