‘What are we thinking?’ I ask Eliza. ‘Deadlift between us?’
‘Hope you’ve been in the gym, buddy. He weighs a fucking tonne.’
Maggie groans.
‘Was he terrible at least?’ she asks.
‘The worst,’ Eliza answers, and a knowing look passes between the sisters.
Maggie’s eyes trail over the mound of human in the pool of blood. ‘Good.’
I hook my arms under what remains of the torso and lift in time with Eliza. Trying not to stare into the oozing fleshy wound where his head once sat. There’s bone.
Fighting the barf takes it out of me, more so than the heft of the dead man.
Back straight. Core pulled in. Just try not to think about it until he’s in the van.
Eliza grins over the bulk. ‘Thanks for this. I’ll owe you a favour.’
‘Just make sure this doesn’t come back to Maggie and me.’
‘I’m good at my job,’ she huffs as we near the back door. ‘Speaking of which, after your fall from grace, what are you up to? I can always use some muscle down here in London if you need to make ends meet.’
‘Thank you, but no thank you. I’ll do this for love, but not money. I’m helping others with their social media. At least my years of content production haven’t been a complete waste.’
‘How boring,’ Eliza says before her face twists in disgust. ‘Damn, he’s pissed himself. Gross.’
‘That’s the bit you find gross?’ I grunt as we reach the alley, and Maggie comes from behind us to open the van door. Despite the rusty exterior, the inside is pristinely boarded with metal and pinned with tarps.
‘Bit to the left,’ Eliza says as we manhandle him into the back. ‘Mind the, well, whatever that goop is.’
Maggie retches as we dump him in and close the van.
Eliza claps her bloodied hands, looking delighted with herself. ‘Brilliant. Knew you’d be useful.’
So much for the romantic afternoon I’d planned.
FORTY-TWO
MAGGIE
Steam curlsout of the bathroom as Roman showers. I’m surprised there’s any hot water left after I got out. It had taken a while to try to wash the evening’s grime from myself.
Bloody Eliza.
Literally.
She’s taken on more in the family business, and she’s doing it with gusto. But I’m going to have to reinforce my boundaries. It’s too easy for me to let her skip over them while thrusting dead bodies at me.
I’m padding around our apartment in one of Roman’s T-shirts. It still feels like a dream whenever I spot his belongings mingling with mine. His protein powder is next to my Costco-sized bag of mini cinnamon rolls. His wallet tossed in the bowl with my keys.
I love it.
I love him. The way he always sneaks out of bed before me so he can wake me with a hot cup of tea. I haven’t had to wash a single item of clothing since he moved in a few weeks ago. The way he thanks me with every meal I make, and indulges me when I want to grab takeout instead. Even though he’ll have to work a bit harder in the gym.
I love the way he holds me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. Sending me cute dog and cat memes while I’m at work because he knows it makes me smile.
His jacket hangs on the back of the sofa, and I pick it up to move it to the hooks by the door.
