Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“You smell like bleach,” Theo said as she looked up from the bed where she had Rosita sleeping at her side and Marie purring in her lap.
“Good. That means I’m clean,” I told her, kicking out of my shoes and making my way to the bed.
“It probably says something really fucked up about me that underneath all the anxiousness about where you’ve been and what could be happening to you, a part of me is really charmed by this whole thing.”
“Nah, baby,” I said, scooting in, careful not to disturb Rosita. “That just means we were meant to be together,” I told her, leaning my head into the side of hers.
And then, just to prove her point, she reached over into the nightstand, sliding open the top drawer, and pulling out a plate stacked high with fudgy-looking brownies.
Reaching over, I took one, toasting it to hers.
“What are we toasting to?” she asked.
“How about our own crazy-ass version of a happily-ever-after?” I suggested.
EPILOGUE
Theo - 4 weeks
Dezi had the flu.
No, that wasn’t quite correct.
He had the man-flu.
Which was, you know, the flu, but because it had worked its way into the system of a man, it was magically about five-thousand times worse than when a woman caught it.
I would know.
I’d gotten it first.
And I’d somehow managed to get up, feed the animals, clean the litter boxes, and make myself some soup.
Dezi, on the other hand, seemed entirely bedridden.
Past me would probably tell him to stop being such a pussy and suck it up.
Present me, though, felt a little guilty for giving it to him.
On top of that, there was this weird urge to take care of him. I didn’t really understand where it came from, if it was just some innate part of my personality that had just gotten buried since there’d never been anyone to really care for in the past.
Or if it was just because it was Dezi. The guy who barely moved from the bed with me when I’d been recovering from my attack, save for to go and get me food, or take care of something animal-related.
I kind of wanted a chance to repay him for the favor, to show him that I wanted to show him that I cared too.
The problem was, well, I just wasn’t good at it.
I’d recoiled when he reached for the box of tissues I’d brought up to him, finding him all snotty and leaky.
I’d needed to fight off a grumble when he tossed and turned all night, being hot and cold with a fever.
I just… didn’t do sick well, I guess.
But I was trying, damnit.
That was what counted, right?
“Baby?” Dezi called, and I caught myself about to whimper about going up the steps to the bedroom for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. Because the flu apparently made it impossible for Dezi to realize all the things he needed until I was already on my way back up the stairs.
“Coming,” I said, trying to put some lightness into my voice as I turned the coffee pot on then started to make my way up. “What’s up?” I asked as he pulled himself up to a seated position in slow motion.
“I could go for some soup,” he said.
Right.
Soup.
“We still have some chicken and stars,” I said.
“I kind of want tomato,” he said. “With saltines. Or oyster crackers. Or Goldfish.”
Not even the man flu could take away that man’s appetite, it seemed.
“Oh, okay. I will see what I can do,” I said, giving him a smile. “Oh, look who came to see you,” I said as I felt Marie rub her body against my leg before making her way over toward the bed.
We’d finally put a wall up in the loft to make it secure for the animals. And a side wall on the staircase as well.
Well, not we.
Apparently, Sutton got word about it, and had taken it upon himself to go pick out wood, grab tools, and do it for us.
Sutton wasn’t exactly my type, but even I had to admit it was kind of hot to see a man working with his hands.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, turning and making my way back down the stairs to find Rosita waiting at the bottom.
She was still afraid of going up them unless someone was there coaxing her on. But she was getting bigger every day, so I figured she would eventually get there.
“Hey, girlie. We have to make your daddy tomato soup. Which I have no idea how to make,” I told her. “But don’t tell him that since you know how he is. He gets his heart set on these things.”
Luckily, I did have saltines, Goldfish, and oyster crackers, so I went ahead and put all of them on the plate that the soup bowl was sitting on with the piping hot soup I’d sort of thrown together for him.