We move up a small hill near the graveyard, our feet slipping on the wet grass, and I see the old church ruins where requests are made to The Firm. And then my eyes land on the old clock tower that sits above the town.
“I had no idea this was here.”
I see the guards fanning out to keep an eye out for anything suspicious as I pull him close.
“Why did they have a clock up here?” Ansel asks when I point to it. It’s nothing more than rubble and stone, but if you look closely,you can almost make out the hands still moving, still ticking away, telling time. Ansel knows that requests come to us via a church, but he doesn’t appear to have put two and two together.
“It was important for the people in town. The mayor wanted something that always kept people on task. Idle hands make for the devil’s workshop. Or so the saying goes.”
“How weird. Was there a chime or a bell or something?” Ansel asks, letting go of me and walking around the base of the clock.
“A bell, but it was stolen years ago, melted down for the silver in it. After that, vandals and kids went around and took it apart, piece by piece. But on certain nights, you can still hear it chime.”
“How fucking cool. Should we wait, see if we can hear it now?”
We stand silent for a moment, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.
“Wecanstay here for as long as you want, butterfly. Or I could take you to my place. It’s small but cozy.”
His body perks up, and he hops down off the stones and moves toward me.
“Your place? Yes, please. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
I crack a smile at that and pull him into me. “Come. There’s nothing here but ruins and battered memories. Let me take you someplace new. Someplace where our dreams have only just begun.”
“I’m sorry, did you say this place was small?” Ansel’s mouth is agape, his eyes wide as he turns in a small circle. “This foyer is as large as my entire apartment. Maybe even bigger than that.”
I shrug, feeling a small smatter of satisfaction bloom inside of me. He likes it. He has to. This is where we’ll live if he keeps me.
And he will. I won’t cope otherwise.
“How many bedrooms is this?”
“Ten. Oh, and five bathrooms. But I wouldn’t mind adding more.”
“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, and then his shouldersslump. I don’t like that posture. Not at all. Something is wrong, something’s changed since we walked in here. I don’t know what it is. Maybe he’s tired. We did walk a while through town, my mouth prattling off all sorts of facts while he listened.
Maybe he needs to eat or rest. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed by everything today.
“Let me show you the kitchen and make you a small snack. I think you need to eat.”
He nods and lets me lead him to the right. Now that I’m here, showing him my place, I realize how big the space actually is. I see it through his eyes. When we walk into the kitchen, his gaze falls on the marble counters, the stainless-steel appliances, the fresh fruit in the baskets, and he groans.
“Are you for real? Two fridges? Three ovens?”
“For the catering services and the parties we throw.”
“Jesus, how often do you have parties?” he asks.
“At least a few times a year. You can come to the next one, if you’d like.”
“Oh god, I wouldn’t fit in.”
“You would, because you’re mine.”
He peers over at me, his cheeks blushing as his fingers run along the smooth, clean surfaces.
He finally pulls open the fridge and eyes the food inside. “You haven’t even been home in ages. Why do you have so much food here?”
