Page 32 of Splintered Security
But when I get to the end of the hall, I go left instead of right and move into the guest room. It’s functional, but definitely not lived in. It smells stale and unused. I slide under the covers and force my breathing to slow. In no time at all, the warmth of my swollen eyelids lulls me to sleep.
I wake briefly when cool air hits my skin. But the warmth quickly returns. Another cooling moment is replaced by warmth that reminds me of a hot bath. I’m weightless and cocooned.
There’s a kiss to my head, and from somewhere far away the wordsnever againfloat toward me. But the dreams return to whisk me away.
I wake alone, in Ren’s bed, the sunlight streaming through the windows. We’ll have to discuss our sleeping arrangements soon. His bed is soft and huge, but it’s for the best if we don’t get comfortable with this pretend marriage. I may be his wife on paper, but I’m not his wife between these sheets.
The clock on the nightstand reads eight twenty when I get out of bed and tootle to the kitchen. There’s no sign that Ren is home. I’d assumed he would tell me before leaving for his “business,” but I guess that’s not the case.
The coffee pot is on and the carafe is still hot. The idea that Ren thought about this before leaving this morning makes me warm and fuzzy. And I really don’t want to be warm or fuzzy thinking of him. I wander to the pantry and find myself here yet again. I’m glad he’s not home to discover me inside.
The shelves are lined and pristine. It’s not exactlySleeping with the Enemybut close enough. In the back left corner rests a waffle maker, and I decide to try my hand. Worst case, it’s bad, and I can pitch it. Best case, I have waffles.
I grab the needed ingredients and dig through the cabinets until I find a bowl. The batter looks fine, but the waffle won’t fluff up or crisp up. Frankly, it’s inedible. I give up, wipe down the counters, and make myself a second cup of coffee. Ibail onto the sofa, curling up in the blanket from two nights ago, and flip on the TV.
I find a rerun ofThe Nannyand wonder if a show like this would fly these days. Do people like cutesy and quick-to-resolve stories anymore? My story doesn’t qualify as either, and I find myself wishing twenty minutes and a Hollywood writer were all it took to make the shit show that is my life into something lighthearted and fun.
On a commercial break, I head to the bedroom to grab my cell phone to find an app where I can have breakfast delivered. The coffee is good, but now I’m craving real food and can’t get the thought of waffles off the brain.
I slide my phone open to fifty-two missed calls and ninety-one text messages. Panic overwhelms me that something’s happened to my mom. She’s all I have left. Why else would someone blow up my phone? I click on the phone icon and see Heath’s name on the screen. Behind it is the number forty in parentheses. Forty missed calls. Twelve voicemails.
The text app is the same. He’s the only person who’s texted me.
Heath: Where are you?
Heath: Answer my calls.
Heath: Anni, don’t play with me. You won’t like the consequences.
Heath: Don’t you dare think you can run from me.
Heath: What have I told you, you little cunt? You should know better.
Heath: I’m getting angry. You don’t want me to be angry.
Heath: Don’t make me come after you. You won’t like what happens when I do.
Heath: Answer me.
Heath: When I find you, I’ll teach you a lesson you will never forget.
Heath: This is getting old, Anni.
Heath: Don’t make me play hardball.
Heath: Okay, I’m done. It’s time to pay your mom a visit. You can stop it with a quick call back.
Heath: Your mom says she hasn’t seen you, but I know better. Conyers saw you go into her house yesterday. I’ll make sure she doesn’t lie to me ever again.
I drop my phone and run to the toilet where I release the one bite of bad waffle and all my coffee. I never make it through all the texts. I stop somewhere in his Saturday morning rant.
I’m still heaving when a large palm lands between my shoulder blades and pulls my hair out of my face. “Come, Anni. Let’s get you taken care of.”
I have no more fight left in me and turn into Ren’s body, letting him lift and carry me. Somewhere, in the back of mymind, I wish my biggest problem was a British man who needed childcare help and I was simply a fish out of water.
Instead, I’m on the hook…
And waiting to be gutted.
