Page 256 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Ohhh…
No, not kidding about that. But she did knock first.
Clearly, she didn’t wait for an answer.
Ambrose:
Did she see the tattoo?
Annabelle:
The tattoo never came up. She saw other things.
That’s a good thing, I try to tell myself, but all I can think about is what else she saw. My scars. My dick and the way I were touching it.
God, my day just keeps getting worse.
I swipe a hand down over my face, and perspiration clings to me.
The taste of vomit comes up my throat, but I swallow it down, knowing it won’t stay down for long.
Glancing at my phone, I wonder why she hasn’t replied yet.
A second later, my phone buzzes in my hand, and I tap the screen before realizing I’m answering a call from a private number and not a text from Dollie.
“Hello,” a man’s voice comes down the line as I look down at my hand and realize what’s happened.
I don’t recognize his voice.
He isn’t my probation officer.
My therapist, whom I see every two weeks, is female, as are the only other people who talk to me.
This isn’t someone I know, and I’m about to hang up when he talks again.
“Mr. La’Darragh.” He knows me. “The late Mrs. Bannadosi gave me your details. My name is Carl Colson, and I’m the lawyer dealing with her Last Will. I believe she was a family friend of yours.”
That isn’t how I’d describe her, but I can’t tell him that.
All I can do is move my finger away from the end call icon and listen to what he has to say.
“I’d like to discuss the assets she declared to you if you have some time free this afternoon. I’m aware she left you a letter, regarding what she would be leaving to you and her reasons for doing so.”
My eyes fly to the bedside table where the envelope she’d left for me remains unopened.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to know the secrets beyond that seal. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to hear them, at all.
I had no fucking idea she was leaving me something, but I already know, I don’t want it.
The man continues, “I am aware that you’re unable to communicate verbally, which is why I’d like to invite you down to my office. I’ll drop you a text with the address when we end this call, and you can respond there with whether you’re free today.”
The call ends, and seconds later, two texts appear on my screen. A flutter of hope dies when I see neither is from Dollie.
They are both from the lawyer, an address, and then another message asking if I can be there in the next thirty minutes.
Slow feet take me to the envelope that I can’t face reading alone. Taking it with me, I storm across my room, but I freeze with my hand on the doorknob, chubby cherubs disappearing beneath my touch. There’s a moment of hesitation before I yank it open and freeze again on the matching one opposite.
Low moans leave Dollie’s room, stealing the air from my lungs.
