Page 78 of Keeping Her Under
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that in here.” I cover her hand on my chest with both of mine. “In my soul, we are already married. In sickness and in health. ‘Til death.”
Her lips wobble. She hesitates. Then she says... “I want to know what it’s like to be loved.”
Thirty-Seven
I take her home, where I build her the library of her dreams. I cook her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I make and freeze extra food so she’ll always have a buffet of choices. We watch TV while she regains her strength; her physical therapy is slow-going but progressive. Ironically though, her favorite show is one that Ms. Lila Reeds stars in – which is the only reason I decide to let that bitch be.
She still deserves to die for what she did to my girl, and she will in time. But I’ll give her the gift of a few more years first. They’ll be horrible years. She suffered two cardiac arrests. Now she has cognitive impairments and motor function difficulty; she is suffering from memory loss and PTSD. She’ll never be the same again. She will live every day in pain and misery. The likelihood of her making it another five years is only 14%.
But it’s better than what happened to Ryan. He never did anything to help my girl, so he died like he lived – as a coward. After he fucked his mom, she lay on the mattress, leaking his cum. And that’s when Asher removed her blindfold. The scream the two of them made as they saw each other…
It still gets me hard.
We told him we got it all on video, and if he didn’t want us sharing it with the world, he’d take full responsibility for all the coding in the ICU. Ms. Reeds’ bodyguard is content with his investigation now; he’s not looking for me.
And given Ryan committed suicide in police custody after I leaked the video regardless… there are no more leads to follow. His mother is yelling about “two men” to anyone who’ll listen, but no one listens to an emotional old woman.
As the weeks pass, Summer slowly starts to warm up to me. There have been hand holding and hugs, and yesterday, she even let me kiss her. But I’m dreading the first time we have sex. She will want to be awake for it, and as much as I love her, I fear how I’ll react if she touches me.
Part of me wants to be unconscious if she won’t.
But that part of me hates me even more.
As I struggle with the two sides of me, I pile her lunch onto her plate – three slices of homemade pizza cooked in our wood-fired oven, alongside a portion of roasted potatoes – partially boiled first, then left for the starch to rise to the surface before baking, leading to a crisper finish. I grab a glass of ice water before heading upstairs to the library. She spends a lot of her time in there, lounging on the couch or the beanbag, with a special edition book in her hands.
Stepping into the gothic-themed room, I feel all my worries slide away. Her mere presence roots me. Comforts me.
She doesn’t look up from her book as I place her plate on the table. She’s too engrossed in it. But her stomach will growl once the savory aromas fill her nose. After a few more minutes, she places the book down and looks over at me; I’m sitting beside her on the sofa.
She smiles as she eats her pizza. “Jane Austen is my favorite palette cleanser,” she says. “How are you liking it?”
Every book she reads, I buy a copy for myself. Because it turns out, my girl’s a screamer. “No!” “He didn’t!” “How did I miss that?” “What the ever-loving fuck?” And I want to learn what brings her passion. I want to be able to discuss them with her.
“I do not understand the appeal of Mr. Darcy,” I say.
Her eyes dance as she tells me all the reasons she loves him. A stirring of jealousy rises inside of me. When she stops talking abruptly, I realize I’ve been scowling.
I force out a breath and for my muscles to relax. “Please continue,” I say.
She talks softly and hesitantly at first, so I make sure to be more engaged. Hiding my jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I don’t get jealous of her other book boyfriends, but she just told me Darcy is the one she constantly goes back to. After every pitch-black read, Summer finds comfort from Pride and Prejudice. In the pages of another man. In one too good for me.
At least with the dark romances, I know I can compete with the monsters on the pages. But how can I possibly fair against a man who isn’t broken like me?
Taking me by surprise, Summer reaches over and touches my leg. I grab her hand and squeeze.
“You should pick the next book,” she says.
“I don’t think you’ll like medical studies.”
She laughs. “Surely, you like to read for joy?”
I shake my head. “Not until I met you.”
Her eyes soften. “Well, is there a genre you think you might like?”
My stomach tightens with unease. I glance away. Her fingers tighten on mine.
