And she was back to her chipper ways.
Which included waking me up at dawn with her bat and pan.
And then singing at the top of her lungs while making eggs with extra ketchup… the ketchup she said represented blood, and, since I’d killed so many people, she wanted to remind me of my sins every day.
Her words. Not mine.
I continued holding her hand whenever she asked me to, and honestly, each time our fingers touched, it felt more and more like I was losing a part of myself.
I knew she was getting bored; you couldn’t simply keep a girl like Andi cooped up in a house, but it terrified me that she would get sicker if we went somewhere, and as much as I hated to admit my own terror, well, there it was.
Finally after five days at home, something gave.
It happened when I was in the shower — because naturally Andi didn’t do anything like a normal human being; her timing was always off, her ideas harebrained.
I was just putting shampoo in my hair when the door to the bathroom opened.
“Hey, sailor,” Andi called.
“What the—” I dropped the shampoo onto my foot and turned. I wasn’t in one of those showers, you know, the types that hid every part of you.
I lived in a freaking mansion. My shower was glass on every side and gave the impression that I was in a monsoon rather than a bathroom.
“Andi?” I licked my lips, not bothering to cover myself up. “Can this wait until I’m out of the shower.”
“Nope.” She heaved herself up onto the counter and smiled. “You’re more vulnerable this way.”
“No shit,” I muttered then grabbed some body wash and continued trying to shower while her eyes drank me in.
“So…” She yawned.
I was slightly offended at her reaction. Could she at least stare wide-eyed and in absolute wonderment?
The woman did amazing things to my ego.
“I was thinking.”
“That’s unfortunate for me.” I faced her again. “So? What were you thinking, Andi?”
“You like holding my hand.”
I quickly turned back around lest she see the effect even thinking about holding her hand had on my body. “Yeah?” I croaked out. “So?”
“So, you like spending time with me even if you won’t admit it.”
“Get there faster, Andi.”
“The list,” Andi called out. “I think we should do some list-like activities. I wrote down all the honeymoon things I’d want to do if we were able to leave the country without going to prison.”
I sighed. “Andi, we wouldn’t go to prison.”
“I would die in prison. I’m too pretty.”
“And I’m what? The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
I met her gaze again.
She tilted her head. A small smile formed across her lips. “You do have horrible posture.”
“Do not,” I argued, straightening my back.
“Do too.” Her grin widened. “You’ll probably be one of those crotchety old men that can’t look past a woman’s breasts because he can’t lift his head. I can see it now. ‘Bring me more pasta!’”
“Wait, what?” I turned off the shower. “Why am I yelling for pasta?”
She shrugged. “Just seems like something your grumpy ass would say.”
“Your opinion of me needs work.”
“Maybe you should be nicer, and my opinion would be higher.”
“I bought you ice cream.”
“After yelling at me.” She tossed me a white fluffy towel then pointed at my side tattoo. “Hey, what’s that?”
I slapped her hand away and turned so she couldn’t see the markings then wrapped the towel around my waist. “Okay, so you want to… what? Have sex fifteen times?”
She was still trying to peer around me. “I wrote it fifteen times because I figured we’d be on a honeymoon for seven days — that’s sex twice a day plus a bonus round.”
I walked past her, steam billowing off my body. “Sweetheart, you don’t plan sex.”
“Well…” She crossed her arms. “…I do.”
I leaned against the countertop. “So that’s it? You’re propositioning me?”
“Nope, I picked out a few other things on the list.” She slid it across the granite counter and leaned her hip next to my body. “Read.”
“So demanding.”
“I’ll go get my pot and wood stick.”
“Reading,” I grumbled.
“Pet a giraffe?” I said aloud. “What the hell?”
Andi shrugged and examined her fingers. “Sergio, if we were going on an African safari, I’d get to see a damn giraffe.”
“And you want to see a giraffe because?”
“They’re tall.”
I fought for control over my temper. “That’s it? Because they’re tall?”
She nodded.
“Fine, can we just paint Tex to look like a giraffe and give you a paintball gun so it’s like a real safari?”
Andi tapped her chin. “That may work. Hey, you’re useful after all!”
I kept reading. “I hate hippos.”
“Well, that’s unfair.” Andi started wiping off the mirror with a fresh towel then tossed me my deodorant. “Have you ever even met a hippo?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here.”