Page 2 of Poetry By Dead Men
Sighing, I wobble back to my nightstand, picking up my Morgan Harper Nichols book to make sure the bracelet isn’t hiding underneath it, then peek behind the bed, the knots in my stomach twisting tighter with each passing second.
I’ve lookedeverywhere.
For the third time in the last hour, I crack open my jewelry chest, but this time, I let my fingers find the small divot on the edge of the plush satin bottom. A cold sweat breaks out on my neck as I hold my breath, listening for the squeak of a door or footfalls in the hallway.
There’s still nothing but silence.
My heart races as I pop open the false bottom, and with quiet, efficient movements, swipe a hand across the thick stack of papers inside incase the bracelet somehow fell through, but all my fingers find is a half-written manuscript, a guitar pick, and some loose pages, all covered in cobwebs.
Metaphorical ones, but the sentiment is the same.
Popping the bottom back in place, I flip through the dozens of papers folded in with my jewelry: Harrison’s poems. My chest warms as I pick one at random and open it.
You look so very pretty, in the bright lights of the city.
Yes, you certainly do. Oh, how I love you.
Despite being on edge about my missing bracelet, the poem makes me smile. I’m not sure Harrison’s aware of how horrible his attempts at poetry are, and I’ll never tell him. Each one is a little treasure, proof that he’s willing to put in effort to make our relationship work.
The door creaks, and I jump when Harrison pops his head into our room. My heart slides into my throat as I realize how close he was to finding me digging in my box of secrets—the evidence of the girl I used to be—and for a second, I wonder if he heard my confession after all.
But no.
He’s smiling, without even the slightest hint of disappointment in his perfectly groomed features, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“There you are,” he says, eyes gleaming as he scans me from head to toe.
“Erhm…” I clear my throat. “I’ve been calling for you. Everything okay?” I ask, forcing a bright smile.
“Just catching up on work,” he says, his mouth pinching in.
Not for the first time in the past few weeks, I consider asking if there’s a problem at his firm. If there’s more to the endless calls and constant emails than he’s letting on. The words dance inside my cheeks and along my tongue, but I hold them back. Bringing up my concerns will only make him think I’m questioning his ability to handle things at work, and I don’t want to fight tonight.
“You look beautiful,” he says, changing the subject as he slides his arms loosely around my hips. “Is this what you’re wearing?”
There’s an undercurrent of something I can’t quite place in his voice. Disappointment, maybe?
My smile falters, even as he bends down to brush a kiss across my neck. “Do you not like it?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light. Molly and I spenthourstrying to find the perfect dress for tonight, and even though I’d preferred an ankle length champagne sheath, I’d specifically chosen this fitted navy one because it shows off my legs, Harrison’s favorite feature.
“No, it’s great.” He nips at the skin above my collarbone. “I was just hoping you’d wear that purple one I like so much.”
The navy dress I’d thought was perfect just a few hours ago suddenly feels too tight. Too short. Like I’m a child playing dress up.
I plaster on a smile. “I thought you’d like this one. I chose it for you.”
Harrison takes a step back, tilting his head as he looks me up and down, and my cheeks sting with warmth. In a heartbeat, I’m fifteen again, my mother making me spin in a circle to judge if I’m presentable for the country club or one of Dad’s political fundraisers.
“You know what, you’re right. The purple one’s my favorite, too.” I say before he can answer, smiling so big my cheeks cramp. I head to my closet and grab the dress, pushing away the long-ago memories embedded into the fabric.
“By the way, have you seen my bracelet?” I call, grateful I can’t see Harrison roll his eyes at my question. Hehatesmy bracelet.
“Can’t say I have,” he says, his voice moving closer.
My shoulders fall, my mind reeling.Where could it be?
Harrison appears in the arched doorway. “You don’t need it tonight, anyway.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, pulling the dress over my head.
