Page 80 of Little Liar
He shifts, putting his arm up above his head and resting against it while the other hand rests at his side—he’s not eventrying to stop the spider crawling over his chest, my body stiffening when it stops at his shoulder.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to name him?”
His lip pulls at the corner, and he leaves his pet on his chest as he signs,She’s a female.
“How can you tell?”
I thought she was a male, but when she shed, I examined the molt, he signs then says aloud, “for spermathecae.”
For being a complicated word, Malachi says it surprisingly clear.
I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about though. He did a lot of research when he was younger—he’s like a genius when it comes to eight-legged creatures.
“You like spiders,” I state the obvious. “They creep me out.”
He laughs silently.Red-knees are docile. She’s harmless to you. Do you want to name her?
“You name her.”
He tips his head, staring at the animal as if she’s going to look like a name. He shrugs then looks at me again. “Cordelia.”
“I like that,” I say.
Although I need to get showered and ready for work, I sit down beside him, still keeping enough distance as Cordelia crawls over the top of his hand slowly—Malachi rotates his hand as she moves. I’ve always known he’s loved spiders. Cats, dogs, rabbits, parrots, all the other household pets, you name it, he loves them, but spiders—or more so tarantulas—hold a special place in his heart.
He even has a spider tattooed on his hand and some webs across his chest and the backs of his calves. The aesthetic is beautiful, mixing with all his other designs too. I trace the tip of my finger across the ink on his shoulder, down his bicep, while he keeps his attention on his pet. “Cordelia is the same breedas Spikey,” I say, watching him. “Is the red-knee your favorite then?”
All he does is nod once.
I want to ask so many questions. I know he had a tarantula as a kid and that it died. Mom said when he was brought into the hospital, it was dead in his pocket. All of its legs were ripped off, and it took four nurses to take it from him.
The brave side of me peeks through, and I get closer, reaching my hand out and hovering my fingertips over her. Malachi looks at me questioningly, his brow raised.
I’ve always been afraid of spiders—anything small and monstrous looking makes me shiver and want to run in the opposite direction, but if I’m going to live under the same roof as this one, then I need to try to squash this fear.
My arachnophobia is screaming at me as I feel the furriness of her coat, and when one of her legs lifts, I flinch my hand back.
“I can’t,” I say, holding my hand as if the spider hurt me.
He laughs, half-smiling, and takes her back to the tank.You’ll like her one day, he signs.
“When I’m dead,” I reply, accepting his hand as he helps me to my feet. “Can you take me to work?”
He nods, grabbing my face with both hands, dragging me towards him, and planting a kiss on my lips.
22
Olivia
For some reason, being at work has me feeling on edge.
Abigail has insisted I don’t go in at all this week and tells me I’ll understand, and Molly has been calling me all morning, but I’m too busy.
I’ll get back to them both on my break. I have fifteen emails to respond to, and Mom needs me to take her coffee at midday.
My phone dings, and the message that pops up has me pausing.
Molly: Why is Malachi standing outside our house?
