Page 62 of The Butcher's Wife
“My cinnamon rolls.”
15
ANNETTA
Today’s a good day.
But tears track down my face.
I woke up in bed with Dom by my side for the second night in a row, and for the second night in a row, I slept without any nightmares. I lay there for a long time, tucked against his warm body, and watched the snow drift outside onto the sleeping city. His steady breathing next to me was the only sound in the room until my need for the bathroom grew too pressing.
Fragile as a newly-hatched butterfly, I crawled out from under his arm and floated to the bathroom. So much tension had unwound from my body at Dom’s hands and talented mouth that I hadn’t even set a timer when I stepped into the shower.
The second the water pelted my face, a switch flipped, and I sobbed into my open palm so I wouldn’t wake him up.
The same old emotions coil around me. Fear for myself and shame that I could ever be worried about my life when I should be grateful that I have one at all. Everything isdrowned out by the deep longing I have to talk to Serafina one more time.
She never cried. She didn’t like doing it in front of anyone, even me, even though I would’ve been there for her if she did.
If she’d been thrust into my life, to need to make the decisions I did, would that have broken through her emotional shell? If she’d been haunted by the attempts on her life and the cold terror of Don Salvatore’s implied threat in his basement, would that have made her as unrecognizable as I’m becoming?
I can’t think about it.
My phone buzzes harshly against the bathroom counter, shocking me into the present. I rub the warm water out of my eyes and draw the shower curtains to one side. Valeria’s name flashes on the phone screen.
I hiss a curse and fumble with my towel before swiping several times against the glass screen with damp fingers.
“I’m heading up with your groceries in a few minutes,” she says.
I wince. She can’t wait for me all morning to finish crying. She’s got classes today.
“Okay,” I say, trying to cover the raw tone in my voice with a high-pitched enthusiasm. “I’m in the shower, but I’ll get dressed now.”
We hang up, and I rush to finish washing my hair and wrap myself in a fluffy towel. I nearly run out until I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. Puffy eyelids, blotchy skin, and a red nose. I consider going into the bedroom anyway—what would Dom say?—but I don’t want to ruin what we had last night. I pat on a thin mask of concealer until I appear mostly normal.
When I swing open the bathroom door, the sight of himstops me in my tracks. He’s awake now, sitting up against the pillows with the crisp, white bedsheets pooled along his waist—and he’s shirtless. His hair hangs loose and a little messy over his shoulders. A gold cross sits nestled in his chest hair, and I have to clamp my jaw shut to keep it from falling completely open at the sight of his broad chest and arm muscles eating up the width of the bed.
“Who was that?” He glances up from his phone in his palm, looking at me over the top of his sexy glasses.
“Sorry?” I fiddle with the edges of my towel, calculating how much time I have before Valeria gets here. Definitely not enough time to have sex, but maybe he’d finger me again and help me release all that stress from the shower…
“On the phone. Who called?”
“Valeria,” I exhale. I’m nearly on the verge of asking him to touch me again until I realize he’s been staring at my face for a little too long, and I break out in a quick smile instead.
I’m doing fine with my thirty-minute crying sessions. I don’t need to bother him with them, and I definitely don’t want to go back to him treating me with kid gloves. I’m moving forward with my life, no matter how much the past tries to drag me back.
I drop my towel to the ground, and interest lights up Dom’s face. He slings one arm over the top of the headboard as the outline of his dick grows long under the bedsheets.
“I have to meet with her to talk about the party stuff before she goes to her classes today. Will you be here when I get back?” I force myself to turn away from the beautiful man in my bed to rustle through the closet naked, pushing my ass out a little more than usual.
His voice drifts in through the shirts I’m filing through. “I’m yours for the rest of the day.”
“Really?” My heart lifts. “I should have hitmen come to the apartment more often.”
“Very funny. That reminds me. I want you to learn how to shoot a gun.”
“I can shoot a gun.” I tug on underwear and a pair of leggings before turning back to Dom and taking my sweet time to drag on a thick, chunky sweater while he watches. I should probably blow-dry my hair, but Valeria will be here any second now, and I’d rather spend the time flirting with this brand new Dom.
