Page 227 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
My fingers slink down his arms, over fresh gashes that disrupt his skin.
He jumps when I touch them. I don’t get the impression they hurt, but his body stiffens, and it makes me feel like he’s scared I’ll turn his arms over and see something worse.
I don’t, I lower them to his side. Keeping his hand in mine, I give a squeeze.
“No more hurting yourself.”
His full lips part again, but my finger stops them from moving, from distracting me from leaving. “Thank you for our minute.”
Stepping away from me, he writes a note on the steamed-up mirror.
Just so you know, I’d stay forever.
Turning away from that message and reaching for the door feels impossible.
My heavy legs protest moving, and my heart begs me to stay.
But sense wins me over.
I wipe my eyes, pushing back the new tears clawing to get out, and reach for the handle.
Pulling open the door, I see Shane waiting on the other side, a questioning look on his face as he looks over my shoulder.
“I thought I heard you talking to someone?”
My heart drops, no doubt my facial expression goes with it.
I spin around, finding only Bubbles in the room, pawing at the tiles on the walls, and whining.
I squint, trying to decipher what on earth just happened and where Ambrose could have disappeared to, but still, I give Shane an answer laced with lies.
“I was. Bubbles. I was talking to Bubbles.”
CHAPTER 54
Dollie—present day
It’s been a week of wining and dining, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed the three shopping trips, two meals out, and endless dog walks. Bubbles hasn’t, having not warmed up to Shane in this time. That’s why she’s wandered off to a different room in this house.
But I’ve warmed up to Shane—I really have.
That’s an easier lie to believe when I’m nowhere near Ambrose.
That’s why I’ve avoided him for the last week and made adjustments to make my days easier with Shane. Like not bring up any of the stuff he’s done recently, or consider wearing any of the new gloves he’d gifted me on our shopping trips.
Give and take, that’s what makes a relationship work.
We aren’t officially back together, but we’re holding on to each other.
He’s stayed all week, and it hasn’t felt like an invasion. Maybe only because I didn’t want to stay in my room alone after cleaning it out.
Those pink walls no longer feel like paradise. The room is almost empty, like a pretty pastel prison.
I miss the chaise lounge and Bubbles waking me up by licking my toes or nibbling on them when she’s pulling off my socks if I forgot to do so before sleep.
She still won’t venture to the second floor, which frightens me. What does she see up there?
My parents? Do they stand in the dried blood, looking down and moaning about how they never wanted a dog?
