Page 387 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“Inner body clock.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I’m not gonna go. I’ll give it a few minutes until I’m fully functioning, and I’ll text my boss. I’ll be fake sick today.”
“Okay. I have to go back to the house. Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“Yeah. The doctors weren’t concerned on their last check.”
“I just hate the idea of leaving her.”
“You’re not leaving her alone. I’ll be here. I’ll call if anything happens.”
“But what if I can’t get back in time?”
“Have a little faith, Ambrose. She’s strong.”
“She is.”
Pushing myself up, I limp a little worse than usual, my legs stiff from the uncomfortable chairs.
“I told her everything,” I tell Annabelle.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“You’re living a double life as a guy called Lucky everything.”
“Everything.”
Putting on a terrible Irish accent, Annabelle asks, “Did you tell her, I love you, my sweet Dollie, and you have to love me. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”
“Everything, though she figured a lot out by herself. And just so you know, I’m not that dramatic, nor do I sound like that.”
“Okay, the accent needs work, but you literally were that dramatic.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell her to shut hers, because it’s not the time, but she talks again.
“I’m glad it worked out, though. You looked really happy together when you came home the other night.”
Annabelle’s genuine happiness for Dollie and me changes the course of my next words.
I simply say, “I won’t be long. I have medication I need to take. I can get her some clean clothes and stuff. I can get Duggan, feed Bubbles. You won’t leave until I get back?”
“Promise.”
“Okay. I’ll pick you up some breakfast in the cafeteria.”
“Yes, feed me, please. I left my purse in the car.”
“That’s fine. I pull my wallet from my back pocket and place some bills on the chair next to her. “Get yourself a coffee or something from the vending machine while you wait.”
Arriving home, I head straight upstairs, Mom and Dad’s unmade bed calling my attention. The scent of chocolate and roses invading anything they left behind.
Closing my eyes, to memories of her below me, on me, kissing me anywhere and everywhere, I head to my room. Still feeling the phantom touches of her mouth, I strip off my clothes and step into the shower.
You could be washing away her last touches,my cruel mind teases as I lather myself in a minty shower gel. It burns as it runs down my arms and seeps through my bandages.
